#my heart is locked down tight and bursting through the seams

[dragonofthemountain]

vent or something

[nuttytani]

My manager is a total grandpa but he can kick some ass?

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Tartaglia | Childe x Zhongli

Premise: Ajax is a popular idol named Tartaglia and is known to be a bratty prince and hard to work with, or so they say. His agency has hired him a new manager, since his previous one quit, yet again!

Fic can also be read here on my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51099172/chapters/129105334

chapter 2 link

Chapter 3

Ajax wakes up feeling fine, just fine. He feels perfect. Totally not like his muscles were screaming at him and were threatening to collapse, and definitely not like his eyes were burning red– he was absolutely not putting any effort into keeping his eyes open. 

Lies! He’s hundred and one percent fucked. Royally fucked. 

“What will I do?” he groans while dragging his hands down his face. 

There is a concert scheduled today, later in the morning and getting sick was not part of his schedule. Out of all the days, why did he need to get sick now? He has been feeling a little strange this week but chalked it up to exhaustion… He should have known better, especially last night when he was feeling extremely down and lethargic after he had to do a little bit of rehearsal for the concert, even though it was his day off. 

Guess he’ll just brave through it by popping some painkillers and call it a day. After all, the concert is only two hours long. 

He should manage. It will be fine. It should be fine, Ajax thinks to himself. 

.

There’s a notification on his work phone, followed by a call. Ajax struggles to pick it up as he’s pulling on the pants of his outfit. It’s really tight, and he’s scared that the seams of it might rip off– but nevermind, he successfully closes the zip and breathes out in relief. He turns to his phone and checks that it was a missed call from Zhongli. 

He redials it and waits until a deep voice answers, “Ajax, I have arrived. Please come down to the parking lot.” 

“Got it, hold on, I’ll be right there. Give me five minutes,” he replies and hits the end call while trying to figure out how to lock the leather thigh strap. 

“Aha!” he cries as the strap finally clicks. Now he’s just left with the ripped white t-shirt and the white jacket. His stage outfit may be a little strange this time, but his stylist team knows what they’re doing, so there’s nothing to worry about. Ajax throws the shirt and jacket on, uncaring of how it messed up his hair. After grabbing his keys, he makes his way to the entryway and puts on his sneakers. 

It’s already 5 AM as Ajax leaves the apartment and makes a run to the parking lot. He didn’t even run that much or climb down that many stairs, yet just from a few steps, his heart beats like a boombox and his lungs struggle to grab for air. 

Not a good sign, he thinks. Hopefully, the painkillers will kick into his system sometime soon.

Once he spotted Zhongli’s black car, Ajax waved a little before making his way inside.

“Sorry, hope I didn’t take too long.”

“Not at all. There’s a lunchbox on the seat. Have it now while I drive. I am well aware you’ve skipped your meal once again.” Zhongli looks at him pointedly from the rearview mirror. 

Ajax replies with a nervous laugh, “...Right. Thanks, and good morning, by the way.”

“Hmm.” 

He grabs the paper bag next to him and takes the lunchbox out. It’s blue with tiny narwhals drawn all over with cartoony ocean waves. It’s cute. He didn’t know Zhongli was a connoisseur of cute items. Ajax stores it in his mental list of ‘things about his manager’. He opens the lid to find a fluffy bed of egg fried rice and some juicy looking chicken. He takes a bite of the rice (thankfully, a spoon was provided this time), and the flavours burst into his mouth. A wide smile grew on Ajax’s face as he savoured his breakfast.

It isn’t long till they reach the venue’s parking lot and Ajax is helped out of the car. 

His manager frowns when he takes hold of his hand. Zhongli’s eyes focused sharply from behind his glasses. “You’re heating up. Are you unwell?” 

Ajax realised his mistake and quickly pulled his hand away. “I’m fine! You’re thinking too much, your hands are too cold because of the air conditioning,” he says with a reassuring smile and a small pat on his manager’s shoulder. With that, Ajax is almost speedrunning to the entrance of the venue. 

It’s as if the other wasn’t quite convinced but nodded anyway. “Alright. I’ll be here if you need me,” Zhongli says loud enough to be heard out of earshot. 

.

The venue may be empty at the moment, besides Ajax and the event staff, but the place is massive. The stage is square and is in the centre of the concert hall. Multiple seats surround the square stage in circles. There’s also a screen situated right above the stage so that people who are far away from him can see him. 

“Good morning,” Ajax greets everyone as he walks past them. Each staff member responded to him with a smile and quickly returned to what they were doing. They’re all busy doing some last minute checks for the concert; sound system, lighting, camera angles, his mic and set of earphones. 

It isn’t long before one of the makeup staff, Chiori, comes up to Ajax and requests him to follow her to the makeup station. Ajax is instructed to take a seat and Chiori starts working her magic on him. She puts on a cat eared headband on him and starts to work on his skin. 

“Geez, why do you suddenly have such dark under eyes? You look like a raccoon. Please try to take care of your skin before events… You’re lucky to have me here, you know?” Chiori huffs as she dabs concealer under his eyes and on some of his freckles. She goes ahead and lightly adds a bit of foundation on him and blends it out with her brush. 

Ajax might’ve mistaken Chiori for a porcupine if she wasn’t quite literally speaking with him right now. Though the thought makes him want to laugh, but he restrains himself by biting his lips– 

“Stop that!” she scolds him and he immediately lets go of his lips. 

“I know you’re fond of biting your lips when you’re nervous and all but please, you’ll break your skin like that.” Chiori grabs another brush to lightly dust his cheeks pink and swipes a finger on one of the pallets in her hand, “close your eyes,” she orders and he does as told. She dabs her finger on his eyelids and allows him to open his eyes once she’s done. 

Chiori looks pleased with herself as she finally whips out a light cherry toned lipstick and drags it on his lips. She then takes his headband off and fixes his unruly hair, somehow manages to tame it at last. 

“Voilà! You’re all done. Hmm! You look pretty.” She nods to herself. 

“All thanks to your skills, Chiori.” He sends her a dazzling smile. As if embarrassed, she smacks his shoulder and turns around to put stuff back into her bag.

Truly, she has done a marvellous job. His skin looks glowy and full of life compared to before. It gives him a bit of energy, looking at his transformation in the mirror. Chiori went for the “cute neighbour next door” type of look by using more peachy and pink tones. One might think that the colours might clash with his white and blue attire, but it contrasted quite well. His styling and makeup really work in marvellous ways.

Ajax takes one last look at himself in the mirror with a smile and stands up. Things felt dizzy and his body felt like it was swaying. He tried to still himself by grabbing hold of anything nearby. 

Chiori was already shuffling towards him with a concerned look and placed a hand on Ajax’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

“Fine! Just fine.” He brushed her off and walked away, leaving behind a perplexed Chiori and a few more staff who eyed him with doubt. They seemed to be whispering something amongst themselves, but he couldn’t hear. 

.

Somehow it feels more suffocating than usual, so Ajax fiddles with the collar of his outfit, in hopes of relieving his discomfort. It’s been a couple of hours since he took some painkillers, but he isn’t feeling any better. It was hard to breathe through his nose now and he wanted to desperately scratch the inside of his throat, and in less than a few minutes, he would be up on stage. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

He keeps chanting that in his mind. 

Though it’s been more than two years since he debuted, Ajax still can’t get used to the jittery nervousness that he would experience right before performing. It’ll be fine, like always, he’ll do fine. There’s never been a single concert where he messed up. He has always done his best, for his fans, his family and his agency. 

Closing his eyes, he takes another deep breath to calm down. 

A soft voice speaks up from behind him, “Here, drink.” Zhongli taps on him and hands him a bottle. 

Ajax quirks his head a little and accepts it. “Thanks,” he says after taking a sip. He didn’t even realise that his mouth was dry. 

“You’re welcome.” His manager gives a short nod and hesitates before opening his mouth. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Ajax asks. 

There is a pause of silence and Zhongli simply stares at him, well more like examines him with such intensity, as if a mother would check her son for any injuries.

“You say that, but more than half of the staff have noticed you looking exhausted. Even Miss Chiori informed me of you fainting–”

“I didn’t! That’s an exaggeration,” Ajax protests. 

Zhongli shoots him a deadpan expression, and Ajax mutters under his breath that he may have almost fated. Almost being the keyword. At last, Zhongli sighs and offers once more, “If you say so. But do tell me if you’re unwell anytime soon.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I will.”

Soon enough, Ajax’s earpiece rang, and that was his signal to go up on stage. His fans cheered as soon as the spotlight was on and followed his movements to the centre of the stage. The entire venue was filled with a sea of colourful lightsticks, all alternating colours from blue, white and purple. Some fans held banners saying “TARTAGLIA” or “YOUR LITTLE STARS” All of his fans looked at him with adoration in their eyes and continued to cheer in excitement. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and took deep breaths, forcing down the nauseous sensation deep in his stomach. With another low breath, he opened his eyes, flashed his iconic toothy smile to the crowd in front and waved enthusiastically. 

The crowd cheered even more and shook their lightsticks even faster. 

“Well then, my little stars! Let’s get this show started!” He bowed with a flourish and winked. 

.

As soon as he got off stage, his staff were all over him. Not that he minds usually, but he would very much prefer some peace and quiet. 

“Awesome work out there.” 

“Good job!”

A bottle of electrolyte is pushed at Ajax’s face. “Here, drink this.”

“Do you want eyedrops?” another staff member offers him.

“Oh, come on, he just finished a show… Let him breathe!” A familiar voice speaks from the crowd. 

“Ah ah! That’s an excuse for you to have alone time with our hotshot idol. I know an excuse when I hear one, Vlad.” 

The man in question frowns at the accusation and tries to deny it. Saying something along the lines of doing his job as a bodyguard. 

He really appreciates everyone in his team, he really does, but at the moment, Ajax really needed some space so he thanked everyone for looking after him as well as for their hard work, and made a beeline to the washroom. 

.

The running water felt refreshing and cooling against his warm face. But he still couldn’t do anything about his nauseous feeling or his pounding head, at least on the bright side he managed to finish his concert. Though Ajax has no idea how he managed to hold on for two hours of everything. That excludes the entire prep work for today, from waking up to everything till the actual concert. 

Well, he still has a dinner get-together with all the staff for today’s hard work. He should be able to manage. He thinks he can. 

“One good shot of firewhiskey with everyone and I’ll be on my way,” he convinces himself. With one last splash of water on his face, Ajax grabs a tissue and pats his face dry. Fixes up a few stray hairs or any cowlicks that were going out of control before walking out of the washroom. 

He had a few hours on hand before the staff get-together party; it seemed that way as everyone was still busy packing up stuff and cleaning the venue. They all looked completely exhausted and walked around like zombies would do. That included Vlad and Nadia, who were swaying around thinking no one noticed them. They both stood upright as soon as Ajax walked towards them. 

“So,” Ajax started, and clasped the duo’s shoulders, “You guys seem excited.”

Nadia and Vlad both groan in unison. 

“I just wanna go home. I absolutely hate these drinking parties,” Nadia says, to which Vlad nods. 

Ajax feels them and relates to them even, but tradition is tradition. After every concert in his agency, everyone takes their staff out for drinks after any event. Maybe it’s because the heads of his agency are drunkards and made this tradition for selfish reasons, well whatever it may be, every single person must attend the get-together. Or not. It’s not like you get killed for not attending. It’s just for morale boosting, of sorts. 

“It’ll be for a short while, just a couple of drinks and you’re free to go, ay?” He tries to cheer them up. 

“Boss, it’s never just a few shots,” Vlad deadpans. 

“Exactly. Who are you kidding?” Nadia sighs and brushes her hair back. “The last time you said that, we all went home after thoroughly chugging down multiple bottles. Oh, and that reminds me, isn’t that how you lost your…what number was it… 6th manager? He got piss drunk and forgot to pick you up for something the next day and almost caused a road accident while driving you.” 

Vlad snaps his finger. “That’s right! What was his name, though? Bob? Bobby? Can’t remember. But, yeah, better look out for Zhongli. You don’t wanna lose another one. I don’t think he’ll leave you, but he looks like a lightweight, so look after him.” 

“First off, he doesn’t look like the drinking type. Second, I already told Mr. Zhongli could go home after the concert.” Ajax waggled his brows. 

Nadia and Vlad blinked at him for a while.

“Why are you calling him ‘Mr. Zhongli’, he’s not even old?” Vlad says, looking offended on Zhongli’s behalf. 

“Good question. Anyway, look at the time! I have places to be and things to do,” Ajax replies while tapping at his wrist which is bare of any watch. 

Nadia makes a certain face and beckons Vlad closer to whisper in his ear. He gasps as if scandalised and exclaims, “He is not a grandpa!” 

“I can hear you… Loud and clear.”

“That’s the point, boss.” 

“Shut it–”

“No.”

. 

Shot glasses were clinking, and drinks were sloshed, spilling everywhere. Every staff were chattering, laughing or crying. No in between. Except for one, Ajax thought, while sipping his strong firewater and glancing at his manager. He did not expect Zhongli to come along, especially since he was excused. But the man was stubborn and insisted that he would drive Ajax home safe and sound. 

His manager sat stiffly between the rowdy staff. It was such a funny contrast to observe. Eventually, one of the drunk staff, out of many other drunks, pointed his beer mug (which should have been for beer but was filled with firewhiskey instead), at Zhongli. 

“Hey now, yer people almost forgot to celebrate our Ajax’s new manager!”

“Oh yes, Zhongli, come! Drink!”

“Welcome to the party. We may be rough, but we don’t bite.”

“To idol Tartaglia’s 12th manager!”

“May he last long!”

“And may he survive our fussy Childe—”

“I’m not fussy….”

Shot glasses and a beer mug clicked for the nth time and, once again, alcohol spilled everywhere. Zhongli was offered a shot, but he turned it down, “I appreciate the enthusiasm and I’d love to join you all, but someone has to be sober.”

“Awe, look at the fellow… He’s so sweet.”

“And so responsible!”

“Well, how about some grape juice instead, hmm? Let me see if the bartender here has any– Oi! Sir! You got any juice? Oh yeah, thanks!”

Immediately, Zhongli was offered some grape juice, which he accepted with a small thanks and a smile. It was on the house, according to the red-headed bartender, who is actually the owner of the bar. The owner simply nodded at Ajax’s way and went back to make other drinks. He and his team frequent this particular bar a lot. It’s a great place when you want to hangout while making some noise but also have a separate space from the other customers. The best part is that it is celebrity-proof, meaning every celebrity can enjoy some drinks without the worry of being photographed by paparazzi. 

.

“Be careful on your way home,” Ajax says while waving at his team. A small van from the agency was parked in front of the bar to drop everyone home. 

“Yessir–”

He closed the car door and turned to put his seatbelt on. Next to him, Zhongli checked the cameras and all his mirrors before zooming away from the bar. 

It was silent. A bit too silent. Feeling awkward, Ajax turned on the radio. 

A piece of fun pop music played for a beat before Mondstadt’s iconic idol’s voice started singing, “–ettos and fishnets, If that’s what you like–”. Too poppy for midnight. 

So he switched the song again and “–I’ll chew you up and I’ll spit you out ‘cause that’s what young lov–”. 

No, he wasn’t in the mood for cheeky songs right now, so he switched the song again “–living soul in the fray, striving for their own safe place. Life is too long to end at grave–”. 

Speechlessly, Ajax ends up turning off the radio. And the car is filled with deafening silence once again. He tapped restlessly on his thighs before looking at Zhongli, who was concentrating hard on the road. His brown hair, which was usually tied up in a smooth low ponytail, was loose, and a few long strands had come out of place. He never noticed before but, Zhongli’s hair had a few strands ending in amber. How interesting– speaking of amber. His eyes were such an unusual colour. Ajax had never seen such striking eyes before… At least not as pretty as Zhongli’s. It was a pity that they didn’t shine as brightly from behind his granny glasses. Not that Zhongli looks bad in his granny glasses, it actually frames his face quite well. 

Hold on, what is he thinking? Maybe the firewater has done him in. Yeah, that must be it, or it’s the fever. Maybe both. That makes sense. 

He is snapped out of his thoughts as the man in question taps his shoulder. “Ajax, we have arrived. Are you alright? You look a bit dazed,” Zhongli says, tilting his head.

“H-huh? Oh…right. Yeah, might be all the firewhiskey, but I only had 3..… Anyways, thanks for driving me, Mr. Zhongli. Get home safely and good night!” Ajax replies in haste and fumbles with his seatbelt, which is unfortunately stuck. Out of all the times.

Zhongli hums and leans over to Ajax’s side. “Bare with me for a moment.” 

Ajax remained motionless as Zhongli struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt. He was so close, too close, uncomfortably so, Ajax even caught a whiff of apricot and osmanthus from Zhongli’s hair. He could even feel his manager’s warm breath– “There we go, I suppose some lubrication is in order.”

“Y-yeah. Guess so,” Ajax clears his throat and continues, “Anyways…I’ll get going now, and good night!”

Zhongli’s eyes crinkle, they almost look like the crescent moon. A small smile plays on the man’s lips before he replies, “Yes, good night. Your schedule for tomorrow is clear, so please get some well needed rest.” 

He throws a thumbs up and says bye, and at last, Zhongli drives away into the dimly lit road. Before he knows it, Ajax is running up the stairs to his apartment. Yes, there is an elevator, which he could use right now, but his apartment is only on the second floor, and it’s a good exercise. He always prefers to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Feeling up for the keys in his jeans, Ajax snatches them out and fumbles with the door lock. He forgot to leave the light outside his apartment on, and now he’s suffering. With a click, the door finally unlocks and he flings it open. 

As if on clockwork, he takes his shoes off and places them neatly in their designated area, before going about his nightly routine. Which is very short; a hot shower, brushing teeth, a little bit of skincare, and voila. The skincare part is generally optional because 1) he finds the multiple steps lazy and 2) he keeps forgetting about it. So his skincare is just soap, water and moisturiser (sunscreen included if it’s morning). The only reason Ajax had remembered to follow through with his skincare is because of Chiori scolding him for looking like a raccoon. Wait, did Chiori indirectly call him trash? That can’t be right, he thinks to himself while getting cozied up in his bed. 

Nah, she probably just meant my undereyes.

With that, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take over his body.

.

Ajax wakes up to the annoying sound of his phone. It’s been ringing so loudly for a while. He flings his hand out of his warm blanket and feels for his phone to turn the alarm off. But it wasn’t working. After many failed tries, he finally grabs his phone and brings it up to his face. 

Oh. Rosaline was calling him, and he didn’t even know for how long.

“Hell–”

“I’ve been calling you for the past half an hour. What have you been up to?” Rosaline’s loud voice almost makes a drill through his eardrums. 

“Sleeping. Which you have disturbed. Today’s my day off,” he retorts back sharply, although softened by his groggy morning voice. 

“Hmph. Anyways, don’t go check your social media today and lay low.”

He remains silent for a few seconds. “Why?”

Rosaline replies, “The usual, anti fans. So don’t do anything stupid. You know the drill. I knew something was wrong when things were so quiet recently.”

That wasn’t new news. Sadly. He has been an easy target for the anti fans recently. He isn’t even sure why Rosaline keeps warning him every time the hate comments rise up, but he appreciates it nevertheless. “Welcome to the entertainment industry. When is it ever quiet?” 

“Touché.”

.

xoxo . @somethingfizz

Isn’t it funny that Tarta*lia’s fans paid so much for his concert tickets, only for him to dance like a chicken. Like hello ??? Put in some effort ??? Your fans paid for you to perform ?? At least do the bare minimum. Dude looked like he woke up from sleep and thought we wouldn’t notice. 

| koutaro . @linzcrowd 

Replying to @somethingfizz 

passed by the venue. sucker sounded like a malfunctioning roomba. bet my roomba can sing better tho. actually, columbina is so much better than tarta*lia. her latest single wasn’t bad. at least better than chicken man. 

| #1 barbara’s biggest fan . @albert_heart_barbara 

Replying to @linzcrowd

why y’all censoring names while hating don’t be a coward and say the full name :))) bitches. this is why yall anti fans suck. 

| xoxo . @somethingfizz

Replying to @albert_heart_barbara 

Obviously so that his agency doesn’t sue us. Use your braincells. 

—

stawberry n cupcakes . @naruchyann 

trashtaglia fans logic: maybe if i share pro trashtaglia posts then they wont hate him anymore. 

NO!!!! It makes us hate him even MORE. lol. 

—

TARTAGLIA IS FLOP . @anti-tartar

Ajax Turov, you’re so ugly, not even makeup can help you. It looks so cakey, not even flies would wanna hover over you. Idk who decided to make you the face of your agency. If you have even a smidge of shame, get fucking lost from the ent industry and kys <3 thanks in advance. 

| taru chan <3 . @ceo_of_tartaglia

Replying to @anti-tartar

stop talking and look into the mirror first, you waste of air. 

| TARTAGLIA IS FLOP . @anti-tartar

Replying to @ceo_of_tartaglia

Boohoo :(( hurt your feelings? I’m only telling the truth. It’s even confirmed that he fucked his way up. No wonder he has 0 skills. Nepo baby. 

| 100% married to tartaglia . @bbylinx 

Replying to @anti-tartar 

Aweee :((( why don’t you look into the mirror first before talking? At least he’s making big money unlike you. You’re just a poor, unfortunate and jealous soul. 

—

Help me . @ imackhtually 

We should let Tartaglia fans have their own planet 

| tommy . @ freshavacadoo 

Replying to @ imackhtually

and then nuke it, along with the carrot man 

| kayden biased . @ idkbroinsertsmth

Replying to @ freshavacadoo

lol that’s right. then we can observe it 

are you interested in getting notified of my fic updates? well i have a taglist if that interests you!

[blueicequeen19]

Sneak Peek at my new JJ & Kook slow burn. 🥰 I plan to make this as angsty as possible. Lots of hate sex. 👉🏻👌🏻

“I hate you!” I whisper-yell, grabbing a drink off the tray he sat down and throwing the liquid in his face in an attempt to squash my rage. There’s a soft gasp of surprise from someone but I don’t see who. The look on his face makes me quickly regret my reaction as he slowly takes my hand in a firm grip and uses my palm to wipe the alcohol from his face. Then his eyes open, blue ones that are ablaze and ready to kill me. Or worse.

JJ doesn’t release my wrist as he steps forward, cornering me from the party view.

Panic has consumed me. What if someone sees? What is he going to do? I was suddenly terrified of how he’d retaliate to his public humiliation. The collar of his shirt was soaked from the alcohol and the smell of vodka filled my nose as he presses his chest against mine. A few drops still clung to the hair in his eyes.

I was so fucked.

“The next time you lash out at me, I’ll find a way to fill that pretty mouth of yours. I’m sure any shade of lipstick would look great smeared all over my cock.” JJ growls, baring his teeth for a moment. My eyes widen in disbelief. Did he just threaten me? And why did I suddenly wonder what he was packin?

I don’t get to respond because he shoves my wrist away with a look of utter disgust, like he didn’t realize he was touching me. I don’t miss the way his eyes linger on my revealing cleavage in my skin tight dress. It only made me burn hotter.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” I snap but he scoffs, fighting an angry smirk.

“You’re nothing. Trash. Born and bread to mow lawns remember? Why do you care what I do and who I do it with?” I add and his glare darkens further.

Suddenly the door next to us is opened and JJ shoves me inside before I can protest, locking the door behind him. He turns off the light, engulfing us in darkness as I back away in the tiny bathroom. I could scream. I should. I can’t see a damn thing but I can hear how heavy he’s breathing.

“I know who I am in the dark. Do you?” His voice startles me, my thighs startling to tremble. The warning in his voice made me crave this dark, angry side of him.

“We’re in here, alone and in the dark. No one can see us or see what we do.” I gasp softly when I back into the vanity. He sounded closer now. His words sounding like a challenge.

“They wouldn’t see me lift up your dress and bury my face between your thighs. They wouldn’t hear you cry out for me in ecstasy as I make you cum on my tongue. They wouldn’t even know it when I take my cock out and shove it deep in your cunt.” I can’t catch my breath, my heart racing a mile a minute in my chest. My blood burned with desire. My thong was soaked and stuck to me between my legs. I felt ready to burst at the seams.

Out of no where his hand is around my throat, cutting off my startled scream as he presses his body against me. I can see him now. His eyes look black and his trembling in anger. At least I think it’s anger?

“But that’s all you are, right? A cunt? Only good enough for fucking, never marrying? Good enough to fuck but not to take home and meet the family? Because that’s your issue, right? No one ever picks Y/N first. Poor little Y/N.” JJ sneers in my face. Angry tears prick my eyes and I shove at his chest but he doesn’t budge. The hand around my throat tightens, cutting off my air and forcing tears to flow down my cheeks.

“Would you fuck your way to the top? Yaknow, since spreading your legs is your only talent?” I hiccup a sob and he finally releases my throat, my entire body shaking.

“I’ll ruin you.” I spat, raising my hand to slap him but he catches it, spinning me around and pinning it behind my back.

“Not if I ruin you first.” JJ hisses in my ear, his hard cock buried between my ass cheeks through his pants. A second passes and he pushes away from me. The door opening and shutting a minute later, leaving me alone and wanting for the first time in so long.

[aris-ink]

what about yoongi + prise kink? he kidnapped the reader and she has fallen into ✨️stockholm syndrome✨️, she's so sweet to him and he loves that

( ˘ ³˘)♥

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: romance

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of rough sex, oral sex, lots of praise, spanking (like once), yoongi is whipped

There was nothing Yoongi loved more than coming home straight into your waiting arms. Even if his job took away from his time with you, he was proud to carry the role of a provider. Especially for you. Why should his love have to worry about getting up early, dealing with stress and work, when he could do all that for you?

There was a limit to your freedom, one way or another. Your face still appeared on some of the "missing" posters. Sometimes, Yoongi couldn't help but snicker when one caught his eye. Reported missing; presumed dead. Yet here you were, in his house, snug and comfortable as one could be, his arms tight around your waist.

"Missed you," you sighed.

It has only been a couple of hours. The corner of his lips twitched.

"I missed you too, baby," he murmured.

He dropped a kiss on the top of your head. His eyes traced over your face, your collarbones, the curve of your breasts and your bare thighs, all visible from under the oversized t-shirt you wore. His favorite, to be precise. You warmed up under his dark gaze, and his hand reached out to touch your cheek.

"You look so fucking good in my clothes. I should have had you wearing my shit ages ago."

You leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering. And yet he did nothing but continue looking at you, his thumb softly stroking your cheek.

"Tired?" You asked, covering his hand with your own.

Yoongi nodded, his eyes hooded.

"Then let me take care of you?"

You slipped down to the floor before he could even process your suggestion, knees pressed into the ground and hands parting his thighs. Yoongi groaned, throwing his head back.

"Fuck."

He couldn't deny the tightness in his jeans, his cock stirring to life the moment he noticed you wearing his shirt. But he loved it too much when you took the initiative, your want and affection for him bursting at the seams. He loved to see you writhing and desperate, all for him. His back was fucked up from the scratches you left on it, love letters written in flesh. Such a stark contrast from the scratches that still tainted his door, the dark days when you tried to get the hell out by whatever means necessary and run back home. You never made it far. And by now, it didn't matter. It seemed like getting to know him was all it took for you crave him. Just a little taste of the addicting love that knew no bounds made your old life seem so pale and burdensome by comparison.

He watched you unbuckle his belt. The sound alone made his stomach clench.

"You're amazing," he sighed.

Still, he never took his eyes off you, brushing a lock of your hair away from your face to have a better view.

You didn't bother trying to pull down his jeans, your hand simply reaching past the zipper and inside his briefs to take out his hard cock. He hissed, his back arching slightly.

"Fucking-" his thighs parted more, his breathing growing shallow as you wrapped your hand around him.

You knew exactly what he liked, your strokes slow, but firm. You could barely fit him into your grip, his cock twitching, too big for your fingers to wrap around it completely.

Pleasure twisted its way through his abdomen. You were the sweetest thing he's ever laid his eyes on; he was glad he took his time to coax you out of your shell. He bit his lip, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Do you know how pretty you look on your knees for me?"

You shivered, your mouth parting right under his cock. You pressed your tongue flat against it, licking all the way up to the tip. Yoongi groaned, his hand tightening in your hair. He felt hot all over, forcing himself not to thrust deep into your throat when your lips wrapped around the tip to suck on it.

"Good girl," he breathed out.

His free hand began to stroke your cheek. Feeling your hot, wet mouth taking his cock in deeper, he let his eyes fall shut, focusing on the sensation; on how he could feel himself throb on your tongue, how you struggled to avoid your gag reflex before relaxing and starting a slow rhythm.

His eyes opened then.

"Ah, shit."

You looked up at him, your hand reaching to fondle his balls, heavy and full of cum he could not wait to shoot all over you.

He groaned again, loudly.

"You're such a good girl for me. I love you so much."

A muffled moan was the only answer he got from you, the vibrations of it making his cock weep. He couldn't help the stutter of his hips, aching to fuck your tight mouth. You sucked on him harder, hollowing your cheeks, squirming because you were probably wet as fuck and Yoongi suddenly didn't think he would last through this. But he was far too gone to care, words spilling out of his mouth in an avalanche of breathy mumbles.

"Yeah, just like that. Feels so good. Gonna come so hard."

The knot in his stomach was already tightening, and he wasn't even aware of the lazy rutting of his hips, his thick cock lost in your heat. The tip touched the back of your throat, and you tried to not choke around him, breathing in through your nose. His breath hitched.

"Good girl," he repeated. "Taking my cock so well."

He was convinced you were made for him. He could hear nothing but the lewd noises of your mouth being used, feel nothing but the burning pleasure of an oncoming orgasm.

"Oh fuck, yeah-"

He stiffened, the sudden pulsing in his cock making him see stars. You cupped and massaged his balls as he shot thick spurts of cum right down your throat, groaning all the way through it.

He felt like he was floating when it was over, the sight of your flushed, fucked out face and spit dripping down your chin so beautiful he could never put it into words. He stared at you in wonder, trying to catch his breath.

"The fuck," he swallowed, forcing himself to straighten up. "Why are you so fucking perfect?"

He didn't give you time to answer, grabbing your face to pull you in for a messy kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth like his cock just had. He left a quick, sharp slap on your ass that made you whimper in surprise.

"Lie down on your back for me," he muttered against your lips. "Gonna eat you out until the morning. That okay with you?"

You squeaked when he pulled you up on the couch, clenching your thighs.

"But you have work tomorr-"

Yoongi flipped you onto your back, hovering above you.

"I don't give a shit."

The sparkle in his eyes made it obvious. It was going to be a long night.

[callme-barnes]

Besitos

*Pictures are not mine*

Summary: Demons can be fun, at least you know you can be. When you go out to claim a soul as yours, Bucky finds you and it only adds on to the fun.

Pairing: Demon!Bucky x Demon!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT (Demon!Bucky is a sin), oral sex (f! receiving), rough sex, slight daddy kink, blood kink (if you squint), talk of religion (not much), dirty talk

IF YOU ARE A MINOR PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT! THIS WORK IS FOR THOSE 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Again, this work is 18+ only!. Do not repost my work anywhere! This is a one-shot based off of a series I really want to put out at some point. I've been having a tough go of it and this work Ade me feel better to write. Please do not judge my smut writing as I am still pretty new to it. All mistakes are mine. But otherwise please enjoy and feel free to interact with me if you liked it! Enjoy ladies & gents!

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Y/N watched from the comfort of a dark corner at the bar at all the bodies dancing underneath the strobe lights of the club. It had hit its peak at about 1 in the morning, and it was the right time for you to strike the target you had come here to find.

His name was John, a pretty good looking man by human standards. Tall, dark and handsome as you once would’ve described him. Had a beautiful pregnant fiance at home by the name of Lily who was ready to give birth to a handsome baby boy any day now by what you could gather from Lily’s pleas for help. You had overheard her one night, crying herself to sleep as she prayed to God to help her make sense of her situation. She was stuck at home, waiting for a man who would go out and have fun with his friends. And other women.

She had prayed for clarity, safety and a change of heart for him. And strength and courage for herself. To be able to keep her fiance and to change what was wrong with her. Of course nothing was wrong with Lily. She was pregnant, ready to burst at any second. She was bringing a life into this world, risking her body and her health and for what? For a man who refused to change his way of life because that’s what he had grown accustomed to? Or in his words, “To be a slave to a family?”

You had found yourself in that situation once, praying to God for a man that couldn’t give a shit less if you had dropped dead. As long as he maintained his freedom and habits all was well. Instead the man you had grown to love had left you for a cute petite brunette, claiming you had been smothering him with your “jealousy” and your “excessive” calls when you only wanted to be with him.

Your praying touched upon deaf ears of course and it was then that you realized no one was out there to protect you. You were on your own to deal with the hardships of your life.

Until you met him. James Barnes.

He had been your savior when you were ready to give up all hope. Bucky, as you’ve grown to call him, had given you strength and a new life. A life devoted to taking what you wanted and not being sorry about it. A life devoted to him. But that was a tale for another time.

That’s how you ended up appearing to the poor young woman. Sat in her bed, in pain both physically and emotionally. You had appeared before her dressed in a beautiful black dress, the slit high up your thigh and a pair of your favorite black stilettos. She had been scared. As she should have been. Your power emanated before her, putting her in a trance before you disappeared into the shadows, sending her a small devilish grin.

You set your plan into motion when you saw him headed for the restroom area. He was intoxicated beyond his logical mind, which was just the way you liked them. Downing the remainder of your drink, you made your way to the back area, the sea of people splitting as you walked past them making a direct walkway to your destination. When you stood in front of the mens room, those who waited in line stared with hunger. Intensity. Desire. Your hand reached out to touch one of their gawking faces before sending him a wink and walking in after John. The light cheering on the other end of the door made you smile as you locked it behind you and walked towards the sink counter. You perched yourself on top of it, the red lights casting a hellish glow across your skin.

The stall door opened and you felt your insides twist in anticipation as John walked out, his eyes blinking to focus and his hands holding onto the wall for stability and guidance.

Showtime.

You watched as John made his way to the sinks before finally realizing he wasn’t alone, stopping just a foot in front of you. Your leg shifting up to cross over your other, the slit in your dress falling to either side to give him a nice little peek of your ass.

“Hey there handsome”

You were laying it on thick sure, but you weren’t going to lie, you were excited for this one. It hit a little too close to home for you and you were practically bursting open at the seams.

“Who...who are you?”

“I’ve been watching you all night you know. Trying to muster up the courage to approach you and talk to you”

He almost immediately dropped his guard, his vibrations shifting from reserved to open and ready. Good.

“Well hot stuff here we are. And you found me, here all vulnerable. Naughty girl”

You smiled at him as you stood up, your heels clicking on the tile as you reached over to grab his shirt and pull him close to you, pressing your body up against his own.

“Oh I can be very naughty”, you said and leaned up to kiss him. Your tongue slithered against his own, your pace slow waiting for him to respond. Which he did and quickly. His hands reached out to rest on your ass, his hands squeezing and bringing you in to rub against the hard on he was sporting. You sent him a small moan in response, obviously fake but that only spurred him on further.

His hands reached down to just underneath your ass before you pushed away from him and moved to perch yourself back up on the counter making sure to make a show of opening your legs to invite him in.

“I’ve been really lonely. I haven’t had a man in so long baby”

He was entranced by you, his focus resting on your open thighs and practically foaming at the mouth.

“You know how hard it is to find a single honest man in this city? I noticed you weren’t wearing a ring and you came here by yourself. Are you lonely too?”

This was it, the opportunity for your prey to make amends. You weren’t completely heartless, you had been human once. You had made mistakes too, so you always gave them a chance. Yet 99% of the time, they failed. So you got a chance to have some fun. Your eye contact didn’t falter as you ran your hand down between the valley of your breasts, the other trailing up to reveal the lacy thong you were wearing.

“Fuck...yes I’m....I’m so lonely”

There it was. The opportunity you were looking forward to because let's face it you knew this piece of shit was too set in his ways to repent. You sent him a smile as your fingers began to rub at yourself over your panties, letting out a small moan to coax him in.

“You wanna fuck me? It’s been so long since I’ve had a real man fuck me good”

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath before walking over and settling himself between your open legs, his hands grasping at your thighs, “Fuck me Johnny boy”

You moved up to kiss him again, this time more aggressively as your innocent facade began to slip away.

“Now I know there’s a God”

You stopped yourself from laughing or scoffing as your hands moved down to rub at his cock through his jeans, watching him as he tore his lip open with how hard he was biting down and you leaned up, making sure you pressed your body against him to give him one last little feel, moving your lips to his ear

“No God here John. Only me”

As you made your way to unbuckle his pants he hesitated a bit and you leaned back “What’s wrong baby? I thought you wanted to fuck me? Don’t you want to?”

“Yes I...fuck I do. Did you ask my friends my name? I don’t think I ever got yours?”

You watched a shadow move from behind John and before you could respond you saw him. Coming out of the shadows looking as handsome as the devil himself. Bucky.

“What does it matter? Don’t you just want to get inside me?”

As you spoke you made eye contact with Bucky from behind John’s shoulders as you leaned back and opened your legs up to give him a view. You smirked to yourself as Bucky’s demeanor changed and before John could get another word out you watched his eyes widen in fear, finally catching onto Bucky in the mirror’s reflection but by then it was too late. Bucky’s hand had reached into John’s back and grabbed onto his heart, squeezing tight before John collapsed lifeless onto the floor.

You watched him, standing up and looking down at him before shifting to Bucky with a smile, “That was my soul to take”

Bucky watched you, his eyes darkening in discontent “I really wish you’d keep your hands to yourself when taking your souls babygirl”

You leaned against the counter and shrugged, “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, how else would I get you all riled up and angry?”

Bucky was in front of you in a blink, his hand wrapping around your throat as he pressed himself up against you. The proximity of the man in front of you made you melt, your body immediately submitting to him as he stared at you. If you had a soul you were sure he’d be looking into it.

“Is that what it is? You like when I’m angry and jealous?”

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, “You’ve been so busy baby. I’ve had to fill the void with what I could take”

That didn’t make him loosen his hold or react, he just kept staring at you as if to say it was your move now and who were you if not an amazing actress.

“We both know I belong to you. And I wouldn’t want to fuck anyone else but you”

You moved your hand to grab onto his own that was pressed against your neck, leaning down to take two of his fingers into your mouth and began sucking on them. Bucky’s chest rumbled with a growl as he stood before you mesmerized, his dick twitching against his black dress pants he had on.

“I brought us an audience daddy,” you said when you pulled away from his hand a small trail of spit following your lips “You know how much I love it when people hear us fucking. It gets me so wet just thinking about all those guys out there wanting to get in my panties while my one and only is fucking me stupid”

That had done it for him, he slammed you against the mirror behind you causing it to break and fall around you as he took your lips in his, kissing you sloppy and animalistic. You let out a moan and a smile in victory, pressing your body into him not caring if you cut your hand on the shards that surrounded you. Bucky grabbed onto the point where your dress slit ended on your hip and tore the fabric open, making you gasp “This is my favorite dress”

“I’ll buy you another”

His growl tore through you, going straight to your aching core causing you to begin grinding against his dick for some relief. You reached your hand up to lick the trail of blood from your hand that was cut open making a show of it, your tongue trailing against your finger before motioning for him to get close. You pulled him into you and kissed him, hearing him moan into your mouth as you shamelessly continued grinding against him

“I want your dick daddy. Fuck I want it so bad. Need you to fuck me please. My pussy is so wet for you”

Bucky reached down and tore your panties from your body, his fingers trailing along your slit and gathering your wetness onto his fingers before slipping them into his mouth, moaning in response “Fuck you know just how to get me going little one. Want me to eat you out you little minx? Do you want to come on my tongue?”

You whined as you nodded and lifted your legs, your heels propping themselves up onto the counter to open up for him “Please. Want to cum on your tongue daddy. Make me cum please”

Bucky kneeled down in front of your open thighs and wasted no time as he leaned in and began to lick at every crevice he could reach and even some you didn’t know he could reach. His tongue worked from your entrance all the way up to your clit, making quick work of it. You moaned out obscenely, your hand reaching down to grip his hair and pressing him further into you as you grind your pussy down onto his face. You pleaded and moaned louder as he sucked and licked at you, your heels falling onto his back and digging into his skin. He hissed in response but otherwise kept at it, licking and sucking and repeating until you felt that familiar twist in your stomach.

“Oh fuck...yes please. Please give it to me, make me cum for you daddy. Shit yes!”

You made sure to be as loud as you wanted knowing the audience that had gathered on the other side of the restroom door. Bucky hit that one spot on your clit over and over again, causing your toes to curl in your heels and your back to arch up dramatically. Your eyes rolled up as you came loud and hard, your body convulsing and your thighs squeezing his head as he continued to suck. You attempted to push him away as you felt your body become too sensitive which only caused him to pin you down harder on the counter as he continued

“I...I can’t. Wait….oh fuck”

But he was a demon possessed as he kept going before you felt yourself come again, harder this time as you gripped onto the sink the pressure causing you to snap one of the handles clean off. You felt your release flow out of you as Bucky pulled away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand “Shit I love it when you do that for me”

His shirt was wet with your orgasm and he sent you a smirk as he undid his pants, bringing his cock out as he stroked it. You watched him in awe as you smiled at him, your eyes just as black as his as he reached over to pick you up and slammed you against the nearest wall. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his hips to bring him close, feeling his cock hard against your core.

“Fuck me. My pussy wants you so bad”

Bucky smirked at you before lining himself up and pushing into you fully in one thrust. You let your head rest back against the wall, unable to form a sound when you tried to moan before he began to slam up into you. He fucked you like an animal, all teeth and hands and no emotion. The air of authority fell off of him and made you moan and squeal every time he slid past that spot inside of you. Your nails made work, scratching at his neck when you tried to hold on, at his back causing his shirt to rip open and at the upper part of his ass so you could bring him closer to you.

“I want another out of you little one. I want you to cum all over my dick before I cum inside of this tight pussy you understand me? You gonna do that for me baby? Gonna….shit, gonna give me another one?”

“Oh fuck yes daddy I’ll do it. Anything for you, anything”

He pounded into you at a relentless pace, the vibrations coming off of the two of you causing the lights to flicker in small space and the doors to the stalls to shake on the hinges. When you felt your third orgasm coming you leaned in to kiss him and bite at his bottom lip roughly. You graced him with the most pornographic sounds you had in you, urging him on before you came, your walls gripping onto him like a vice not wanting to let him go. Bucky groaned and let his head fall back before he gripped your hips and began to take full control, using his strength to pull you down on him harder to get into you deeper. The force caused you to slam against the tile wall as you held onto him for salvation.

“Talk to me baby” he said as he used a hand to grab your jaw and made you look at him, “You know how much I love hearing you talk filthy to me”

Your walls spasmed around him as you felt what could have been another orgasm coming as you kept eye contact with him

“Oh daddy, I want you to come inside me. Want you to fill me completely with your cum. I want to be able to feel you inside of me for days. Please give it to me, please cum for me. You make me feel so good baby. Give it to me, fuck give it to me”

Your words drove him to the edge, his hips stuttering as he pushed into you again and he spilled himself inside of you, his orgasm also spurring on another of your own. Bucky’s hands grabbed onto you and pulled you in tightly as he rode out his release into you, pulling out slowly and pushing any cum that was slipping out back into you. You had a dumb smile on your face and you kissed him and pulled away.

“Want to finish this somewhere a little more private?”

Bucky listened to you finally hearing the cheers on the other side of the door and he smirked to himself as he leaned in to kiss you once again and set you on your feet so he could adjust himself, “You really are a bad girl”

You hummed in response as you looked in the mirror and fixed your eyeliner a bit, stepping over the dead body on the floor and you looked down “Almost forgot he was in here”

Bucky chuckled to himself and moved to take a hold of your waist. “What did this poor bastard do?”

“He has a pregnant fiance at home. Figured someone should teach him about consequences so he could use it in his next lifetime”

Bucky let out a deep but loud laugh as he squeezed you to him, “Let’s get outta here”

You smiled as you moved to unlock the bathroom door and allowed it to open a bit before walking back to Bucky and shifting out of the bathroom. You stood right outside and when you heard screaming and commotion you grinned in delight before walking towards Bucky who was waiting for you.

“Thank you”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek and looked down at you with admiration, “What for little one?”

“For blessing me with a new life worth living”

Bucky smiled as you both made your way down the busy street, ignoring the looks you got at your obvious physical state. His lips kissed your temple and he pulled you closer into him, “You deserve it. Now, my place or yours?”

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (10)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: smut (18+), angsty angst, this time I dont leave you with a cliff hanger 😉 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“Come on, Bucky! I know you’re in there!” 

You hit your fist on the door again. Perhaps you would have been more mindful of the the hour, but you’d heard glass shattering as you raced up the stairway just moments ago. You’d heard him shouting himself hoarse and heavy footsteps as he paced inside his apartment. You’d heard the cracks in his voice – the consumption of grief and fury and shame swallowing him whole.  

One of Bucky’s neighbors had rung Sam the first time Bucky’s screams could be heard through the thin apartment walls. It was the fifth time in as many nights and Sam promised Bucky would get it under control before they went to the landlord with noise complaints. He made no such promises that he would be the one to do it. 

An elderly woman in a nightgown peeped her head out into the hallway, scowling at you as you continued pounding on the door. Her beady eyes narrowed and you only spared her a moment’s glance before you returned to the door. 

“I’ll wake up the whole building! I swear to—” 

The door was pulled from under your fist. In its frame, stood a ghostly version of the man you knew. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes. His hair was disheveled, blood dripped from a cut in his palm. Behind him, furniture was turned on its side, glass on the floor, magazines and unopened mail littering every surface. He'd torn his place apart.  

“What are you doing here?” 

You swallowed, forcing your voice stronger than you felt. “Sam called me.” 

Bucky’s grip on the doorknob tightened. “Of course, he did.”  

He paused only for a moment before he turned his back to you and walked inside the apartment. The door was left open in his wake and you took it as permission to enter. 

Cautiously, you took your first steps into his apartment. You tried to ignore the dust lining the curtains and the fleeting thought wondering when the last time he’d allowed the sun to touch his skin. The latch clicked behind you and you winced at the intrusion to the silence.  

Bucky meanwhile was staring out into the mess of his living room. His gaze rested on the couch turned on its side, then to the box of trinkets spilled on the floor by the mantel, then the broken glass by the window. His shoulders sagged; his expression unreadable. Slowly, he knelt down to the edge of the couch to flip it back on its legs.  

You watched him carefully, not uttering a word or daring to move closer until he finished. Once the couch was right side up again, he exhaled a tired breath and leaned against the edge. Exhaustion flickering through his eyes, though you suspected it had little to do with the exertion of moving furniture.  

As Bucky moved to throw the cushions back to the frame, you realized suddenly how he was dressed. Plaid blue pajama pants hung low on his waist. Bare feet prodding over hardwood floors too close to where broken shards of glass waited. His chest was exposed; skin glazed in the dim glow of moonlight as it peered through the small slit between the curtains.  

You could see his shoulder blades move along his back as he tensed. The lines of his spine and the dips along his hipbones. When he turned to face you again, your eyes were drawn to his shoulder and the frayed mess of scar tissue and burns. It was mesmerizing, the intricate patterns and the markings on his skin. Pink and red and faded with time. You wondered if it still hurt, if he could feel the nerve endings there or— 

Your gaze flickered back to Bucky’s. He was watching you, barely taking a breath. So vulnerable as he stood in front of you and he had no time to prepare for it. He probably didn’t realize how exposed he was until he noticed you staring. You’d imposed on his home, on his space. He couldn’t have known he’d be confronted with this tonight. 

All the effort it took for him to simply remove his jacket and now he was left standing before you without a single layer to protect him.  

You could see the doubt swimming behind his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to pretend like this connection between you was something he could easily push away, like he could let go of it without much of a second thought or a single word in his own defense, you could tell he was ripping himself apart at the seams, wondering whether you found him as repulsive as he saw himself to be. 

He shook his head, his features hardening over again. He gripped at the side of the couch until his knuckles turned white.  

“You should go home,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was thick as gravel. “Sam shouldn’t have bothered you.” 

“Shouldn’t have—?” You scoffed, stunned. “Bucky, look at this place!” 

“I’m fine,” he replied flatly and you almost laughed if it weren’t for the deadpanned look upon his face.  

“You’re clearly not fine!” You dared to take a step closer, aching to remind him of the lightness he carried weeks earlier, only for him to retreat. He rejected the contact on instinct – a flinch throughout his whole body. Your heart clenched as if a hand had slipped in past your ribs and squeezed until it burst.  

Your breath was tight in your lungs as you tried again, a little softer this time, “you’re not fine, Bucky. You’ve kept yourself held up – alone – in this apartment for days on end. You’re pushing away the people who care about you. You’re not sleeping. You... You look like you’ve been through hell.” 

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tight, you wondered if it might shatter. His gaze was unfocused, staring down at the floor by your feet.  

“You don’t have to put yourself thought this,” you eased, though the tension would not fade from his muscles. They remained locked as stone. You inched forward, a hand extending to him, an anchor to ground him. “Bucky, please... let me help you.” 

Something snapped – as sudden as a rubber band pulled taunt until its breaking point – and Bucky’s cold eyes met yours.  

"There is NO helping me!” he roared, startling you enough to flinched back a few paces, your hand curling back against your chest protectively. He curled his shaking hand to a fist. “I can't escape this shit! Even when I thought I could—when things were finally bearable again and I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning and I actually wanted to live through the fucking day— it all came back anyway! One word and I’m right back to where I started! I’m a fucking nightmare to be around! Don’t you get that?!” 

His breaths were coming in ragged, too quick. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes red. He hit his knuckles against the edge of the couch, on the wooden frame under the spine. Bucky barely took in a full breath.

“I can’t keep my shit together and I’m -- I’m only going to hurt you, okay? You shouldn’t want anything to do with this. I—I mean, look around you!” He kicked at the glass near his exposed feet, angry tears burning on his cheeks. “This is what my life looks like! Is this—is this what you want for yourself? You really want to sign up for this? This—this fucking endless parade of night terrors and panic attacks and anxiety? Huh?” 

He was brimming with pain. It was spilling over the surface and coating the floor. You were drowning in it and all you wanted to do was cross the room to him, to hold him, to soothe even an ounce of that suffering away because it would consume him whole if he let it.  

Bucky’s right hand was shaking so badly, tremors wouldn’t cease even as he clenched his fist. His body betrayed the stone he etched into his features. It was crumbling under the weight.  

“You really want to throw away your life for that? For me?” he spat as if the very idea itself carried venom in its implication, as if it were nothing more than a fool’s errand to spend a lifetime by his side, as if choosing him would be choosing to tie a noose around your neck.  

You’d never seen the evidence of his self-loathing before—not in full view and smothering the man you adored. He was expecting you to recoil, to run, to fight and argue and ultimately accept that you could never love a man so broken. It was a reaction he could wait a century for and still never find even a glimpse of hesitancy on your features.  

You steadied your breathing. Focused on the heart of the man standing in front of you, determined to push past the destructive fog he’d surrounded himself in. You took a step toward him, and this time, he did not run.  

“You’re not going to scare me away, Bucky.” 

Shame quickly spread through his body, replacing the threads of anger with something much crueler. His eyes fell to the floor, his chest rising unsteady and he stumbled back a few paces to give you space from the rage he wasn’t able to control. He looked about a decade younger as his features softened again, cowering back into the shadows. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you eased, daring another step. 

Bucky shook his head, reflective lines along his cheeks. His lower lip was chewed raw.  

“You don’t deserve this mess. You should—You should be with someone whole. Someone who can give you a better life than I can.” He could barely choke out the words.

“I don’t want someone else.” You took another step closer, determined to close the space between you. “I want you.” 

The tips of your fingers brushed against Bucky’s hand and a shiver cast up his spine. His eyes were transfixed on your touch as you slowly encased his hand in your own, easing the tension through his body and crumbling the stones in his chest with a gentle slide of your thumb against his palm. He started to sink against it, his whole body caving in to the very thing he’d been keeping at an arm’s length. He was suffering withdrawal.  

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Bucky whimpered, tears slipping past his eyes as he shut them tight, as if he could cast away his demons if he were blind to their shadows over his shoulder.  

You tugged gently on his hand, pulling him down to the couch. He followed you easily, his body moving of your accord as if he were made of clay. When you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, you felt the slight tremble along his spine, the shakiness in his bones. His head laid against your heartbeat, his right arm snaking around your waist in fear of letting go.   

“I don’t need to know what happened. I don’t need the details,” you sighed against his ear. “I know you. I know you’re a good man, Bucky.” 

Bucky was quiet for a minute. The silence hung thick in the air. 

“What if I’m not?” 

You tried to ignore the twist in your chest. “Oh honey, please don’t say that.” 

“I lost eight people, Y/n,” he muttered out, holding onto you a little tighter. You could feel his heart pounding as you raked your fingers through his hair, hoping to ease him if only a little. “Eight of my unit. My friends. If I... If I had said something sooner... We were sitting ducks and... and...” 

It was impossible to draw the pieces together. You couldn’t see the vivid image he held in his mind, but the details of that day weren’t necessary. He trusted you enough to outline the frame, to provide glimpses into the worst day of his life, even if they were messy and blurred. His body shook as he spoke, like maybe it was the first time he was saying the words aloud.  

You ran your fingers along his spine, drawing patterns along his shoulder blades. He shivered. 

The gentle glow of the moonlight caught the reflective edge of something on the floor. A medal. A Bronze Star. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, remembering what Natasha had told you about its merit for exceptional bravery.  

“Were there any survivors?” 

Bucky held his breath and slowly he nodded. “He was... He was just a kid when it happened. Peter. I think... I think if it wasn’t for him, I would have died out there. I would have given up. Woulda been easy enough. My arm would have bled out pretty quick and the sky... the sky was so beautiful that day. I don’t know why I remember that. Not a cloud for miles. It would have been a nice last thing to see, you know? I would have been okay with that. But Peter... Peter was so young and I... I wanted to bring him home.” 

Tears were openly streaming down your face and you were thankful Bucky couldn’t see them as he laid against your chest. You tried to stifle the sob as it broke through. You kissed at his hairline again, holding him as tight as you could manage. 

“You saved his life,” you stressed, hoping he might be able to hear it.  

Bucky swallowed, tears brushing against the thin fabric of your t-shirt. “I lost eight others.” 

“Yes, you did.” There was no disputing that. Eight lives had been lost and he was grieving his friends, his team, blaming himself for each life he didn’t save. His body tensed and you were mindful to draw pressured lines along his back to ease the rigidity there.  

“You did everything you could, honey.” 

Bucky shook his head. “No, I could have... I—I should have...” 

“Some things are just outside of your control.” 

“But I—” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

Bucky froze, the recognition present in his body as he slowly lifted his head from your chest. “That’s....” He blinked a few times. “That’s what Sam always said. Those exact words.” 

You smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes. You wiped your thumb along his cheekbone, drawing away the tracks of tears on his face. “Sam’s a smart guy.” 

Bucky searched your eyes and you could tell he was wondering how you’d come to know Sam’s mantras, how they’d become words you often repeated to yourself in your darkest moments, but he couldn’t quite find a way to ask. He pulled himself from your lap and propped himself up beside you, your hands intertwined. He squeezed it lightly and an aching smile pulled at your lips.  

"Sam used to have to write it on paper for me,” you admitted at the bittersweet memory. “I couldn’t say it to myself and he figured if I could read it in his writing, maybe I’d believe it if it were coming from him. After a while I started to say them out loud and hearing it my own voice... I don’t know. Sam kind of tricked me into healing, I guess.” 

You laughed under your breath and you felt Bucky ease slightly beside you. He squeezed your hand again, a silent reminder that he was there. You focused on the feel of his grip, the callouses on his palms and the warmth of his skin. Real and tangible. Your Bucky.  

“Sometimes I think Sam’s the only reason I survived after I lost Riley.” 

A slight pinch formed at Bucky’s brows, his eyes narrowing—a subtle sort of curiosity, though he waited patiently for you to continue. The silence didn’t seem to frighten him as much as he focused on you, his eyes darted to your lip as you dug in your teeth.  

You hadn’t let yourself be vulnerable next to Bucky before, afraid to take away from his own suffering in favor of your own. But you had known pain of a different kind. 

You knew what it was to crave comfort, to silently beg to be held. You knew how it felt to be rejected by a man too shattered to offer any piece of himself away without breaking apart entirely.  

The way Bucky was watching you, even through the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion pulling him in... it settled the twists of nerves in your stomach. His thumb traced at the edges of your palms, gentle sweeps to ease the tension away. His back straightened, a determination returning to his features, a sense of belonging – of purpose – in his comfort of you.  

“He was a pararescue in the Air Force,” you continued after a moment and a flash of realization crossed over Bucky’s features. You pressed out a sad sort of smile as you said, “you remind me of him a little.” 

You thought of the t-shirt you’d lent Bucky the evening you’d gotten caught in the storm together, how it clung to his chest. Bucky’s shoulders where broader than Riley’s had been. It was slightly bigger on your frame the next night you wore it. The logo had faded with constant washing, the soft green of the fabric muted to a grey. You’d worn it to sleep nearly every night for weeks after Riley left for his final tour, longer after he’d been killed.  

It was the most cherished thing you owned. Lending it to Bucky that night had taken a strength you hadn’t allowed for yourself in years. It brought back memories you’d left untouched and an ache in your chest you’d forgotten. But somewhere, under it all, it had released you. 

Riley would have liked Bucky, you thought, might have considered him a friend. You hoped he wouldn’t mind being the bridge that allowed you to move onto a new sense of peace, a new comfort. Even in Riley’s darkest moments, he only ever wanted you to be happy. You desperately hoped he meant that.  

“I loved him so much,” you told Bucky, your mouth feeling suddenly dry at the admission, “but the war had hurt him beyond the scars on his body. Most nights, he woke up screaming. I tried... I tried to comfort him, to ground him back to what was real, but Riley was always so stubborn. He insisted he was fine, as if I didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes or that he started drinking coffee in the evening before bed. He never told me what happened. I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, that he was just doing what he could to hold himself together, but... the truth was, I lost Riley long before the officers showed up at his parents’ house.” 

Bucky nodded, watching you intently, though he didn’t say a word. You could feel his eyes on you as you kept your stare ahead, focusing on the imperfections laced into the brick of the fireplace across the room. You studied the curve of the cement, the nicks in the mantel, the divots of the stone. It was the first time you’d uttered Riley’s name in years. 

“I know you think I can’t handle this stuff, that it’s too much for me, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been around someone with nightmares, Bucky, or panic attacks,” you said, memories flashing over Riley sinking to the floor with his hands pressed to his ears, tears streaming down his face, images of him turning his back on you and disappearing for days on end. You had hoped he’d open up in enough time, but he never did. He couldn’t, he’d said, or it would consume him whole. Even years later, you still wondered whether it was under the weight of his pain that he suffocated, not in the prospect of its release.  

“Riley struggled after his first tour,” you continued, a lump burning in your throat. “He... He came back different. He couldn’t adjust to civilian life. I could tell from the second he got home that he was itching to go back. Despite all the pain he endured, all the nightmares and the guilt, all he wanted to do was go back.” 

You glanced over at Bucky to find his jaw clenched in understanding. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, for soldiers who waited so tirelessly to be reunited with family and friends to feel isolated and insignificant when they returned home, to want to return to the one place they felt like they belonged.  

“I tried to stop him,” you continued, wiping your eyes as unshed tears started to blur your vision. “I begged him to stay. He was out of his contract. He didn’t need to go back but...” You sighed. Bucky’s hand gripped yours and you drew on the ounce of strength he was offering. “The worst part was that he was better when he was over there. He was smiling again and laughing and making jokes like he used to. He was promising things for our future I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider before then. Being over there... it offered him something I never could and I was... I was glad for that. I was thankful he’d gone. I was... relieved. I’d missed him so much and I was just happy he was himself again, even if he was a world away, even if it broke my heart. Seeing him happy again... it was enough.” 

You brushed at your eyes, the calloused touch of Bucky’s palm sliding along your jaw to gently wipe the wet from your cheek. His breathing was even again, the shakiness in his hands subsided. He waited for you to gather your thoughts again, not uttering a word in favor of the crickets chirping outside the window – unparalleled kindness in his patience.  

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, urging yourself to continue. Your eyes met Bucky’s, finding comfort in the warm shades of blue and the encouraging glimpse of a smile that barely rose at the edges of his mouth.  

“When Riley died, I blamed myself for a long time,” you said. “I told myself I could have stopped him from going back. I could have done more to convince him to stay, to get him the help he needed. I could have fought harder for him—for... for us. But Riley was his own person. He made his own choices and I couldn’t have done a damn thing to stand in his way. Sam helped convince me of that.” 

Bucky’s face slacked. “That’s why you started volunteering at the VA.” 

You nodded. “Sam and Riley were partners. They had some sort of pact to take care of the other’s family if something happened. Sam held up his side of the bargain whether I liked it or not. He dragged me to the open house that year and I haven’t left since. I do it for Riley, but... I don’t know... I think I do it for myself, too.” 

You exhaled a heavy breath, turning away from the fireplace to face Bucky. His eyes weren’t as red as they had been, a frown no longer etched into his features. His gaze full, though heavy, and he watched you as if you carried the entire world in the palm of your hands.  

“So, you have to understand... I can’t lose you to this war, too,” you choked out, squeezing at his hand to feel the firmness of it, to remind yourself that he was real and sitting right beside you and not an ocean away. “I won’t survive losing you, Bucky. I need you, okay? Please.” 

He looked as though he was about to argue, but he quickly held his tongue as he watched the tears slip down over your cheeks. Reflective in the dim light from the window.  

You took in a long breath, straightening your spine as you met his eye, your voice stronger than it had been since you started. “Not everyone comes home, but you did. You survived and you wandered into my life and somehow, you made me believe in love again. Even on your worst days, just being near you is the best part of mine.” 

Bucky’s lips parted, a semblance of shock flashing over his eyes. You smiled at him through your tears, a hand sliding along the side of his cheek. He sighed against the touch of it, sinking into your embrace as if hadn’t ever expected to be held like that again. Your sweet Bucky, still so surprised that you could adore him as much as you did.  

“So, I will take your nightmares and your panic attacks,” you told him, smiling through the trembling in your lips. “I’ll take your bad days and share the weight you carry on your shoulders. I’ll take every ounce of shame and self-loathing you have until the day comes you can hardly feel it at all. I’ll take the empty side streets with you and we’ll drive so far out into the country side we’ll never hear a firework again.” 

Bucky chuckled at that, a smile pressing up along his cheek until you felt it under your palm.  

“I will take anything you throw at me,” you sighed, your thumb brushing over his lips, “as long as you’re mine. As long as I’m yours. That’s all I want, Bucky. It’s all I ask. Just you.” 

Bucky stared at you, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief on his features. You could see the hope burning behind his eyes, how badly he wanted to believe you, but doubt crept in and sunk its talons into his spine.  

His smile sank. “You’ve... you’ve already been through so much. I don’t know if I’m worth all that.” 

“You are.” You slid both hands along his cheeks, holding his gaze, until you leaned in closer, inch by inch, and pressed your lips to his forehead. Slow, lingering, you kissed his temples, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his jawline, pausing only when you found yourself a breath away from his lips.  

“You are, Bucky,” you said again, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks and catching a tear in its path. He bowed his head, a slight trembling in his jawline. It took everything you had not to collapse into him.  

“Honey, I promise you, it won’t always feel like this and I’ll convince you every day that you are enough, if you need me to,” you told him, your voice shaking as you held back tears. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever again.” 

You leaned forward to kiss the crown of his head and his whole body seemed to sink in response, lightening, as if he’d let go of a boulder strapped upon his shoulders. His muscles softened, the tension slipping from his spine, until slowly, he began to lift his head, hair parting away from his eyes. Though they were strained and red, a crystalized ocean current stared back at you.  

You could feel the ease in his body taking over, a realization and a determination present in his stare, in his body.  

His lips parted, a steady breath in. “I love you.” 

*** 

It was the easiest thing he’d ever said; slipped from his lips as if the words had simply tumbled out on their own. Lost in how tenderly you touched him, how your hands never once left his body even as he held himself firm as stone, how you entrusted him with the most painful parts of yourself, how you gently coaxed him away from the shadows threatening to drag him back into a darkness he’d never recover from – he’d never been so certain of anything in his life.  

“I love you,” he said again, just wanting to hear it one more time. His voice was stronger this time, steadier, and he could feel his cheeks curving up into a smile. It ached from disuse, but it was a pleasant feeling. A kind one.  

He slipped his hand to rest on yours as it laid against his face and gently pulled it back just enough to kiss at your palm. It wasn’t often he found you at a loss for words, but it he didn’t mind the silence, not like he did before. He could still hear the slight hitch of surprise in your breath, the nervous laughter carrying in your exhale. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it were even possible to love you more than he did in that moment.  

“Really?”  

God, you were so beautiful when you looked at him like that. Starry eyed and so full of hope.  

He nodded. “Yeah. I do.” 

You kissed him then, full on his mouth, arms thrown around his neck, and he had to stifle a laugh against your lips. He could feel the smile growing against him, laughing in between every kiss as the tears dried on your cheeks.  

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you beamed, drawing him in to kiss him again. 

He shouldn’t be surprised after all you’d said to him tonight, but it still fluttered in his chest, still caused butterflies to swarm in his stomach, still cast a blinding light deep into his heart that pushed out the remaining darkness lingering behind. His arm snaked around your back, holding you as tight against him as he could manage. He was breathless by the time you pulled away.  

“Will you stay?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous as his eyes flickered over to the bedroom door. “I know it’s a mess out here, but—” 

Your lips were on his again and he swore he’d never talk again as long as you kept kissing him like that. Slowly, you began to stand from the couch, tugging him along with you. He pulled away from your lips just long enough to navigate his way to the bedroom, stepping over broken glass and the remnants of his nightmare on the living room floor.  

His bedroom was untouched, at least. The sheets were thrown haphazardly off the bed, but other than that, it was pristine in comparison to the damage he’d done out there. A shame tried to work its way deep into his chest, but he felt your hand slip into his, carefully drawing him close to the bed, and it released him to your care.  

His back bounced against the mattress in tune with the sweet sound of your laughter as you crawled over him. Thighs caging his hips, you straddled his waist and he looked up at you, certain he’d find a glimmering shine of a halo behind your head. The moonlight touched over your shoulders as you leaned down against him, kissing his lips. 

He’d missed you so much. Those two weeks left him in a hole he couldn’t possibly dig himself out of on his own. He was scraping at the bottom, nails filled with dirt, digging himself deeper and deeper until he could no longer see the sunlight as it touched over the surface. It wasn’t until you jumped down into the pit with him that he noticed there were notches in a wall once perfectly smooth, allowing him to crawl his way back up to the top.  

You leaned back a little, breathless, as your hands slid along his chest. It was the first time he’d been so exposed in front of you, the scars and burns on full display, and he was surprised that there was no hesitancy in your touch, no reluctance as you brushed your fingertips over the corners of the damage to his skin. But you paused, eyes flickering to him.  

“Can I?” 

Bucky sighed, his heart aching. You knew how difficult it was for him, for you to see this part of him. He hadn't even taken off his jacket once in the first few weeks of knowing you. But now, he nodded eagerly, wanting to feel the tenderness with which you handled him upon the broken remains of his left side.  

Your hands slid up over his shoulder, brushing along the bumps and ridges in his skin. Hardened tissue and raised edges. The way you touched him, like he was something beautiful and adored, made his heart swell. It wasn’t until you leaned down to press a feathered kiss to his shoulder, just over the burn marks and the glimpse of what he’d lost, that he choked back tears.  

“Is it too much?” you asked, noticing the trembling in his lower lip, but he quickly shook his head. 

“It’s perfect,” he replied breathily, drawing you back to his lips. “You’re perfect. I don’t deserve—” 

“Hush,” you warned, kissing him to cut him off, “don’t talk about the man I love like that. You deserve every ounce of love I can give you, you hear me?” 

He stared at you for a moment, studying the sincerity on your features until the gravity of what you said sank in, and slowly, he nodded. It would take time to believe that, but he hoped the more you said it, the easier it would come. He’d believe just about anything if it came from your voice.  

“Let me show you.” 

Bucky stilled; his throat suddenly dry.

“Let me show you, Bucky,” you asked again, your lips against his neck. He shivered. You sucked at his skin, drawing a map along his collarbone. You tongue licked at the indent by his neck. “Please.” 

When you met his eyes again, Bucky wondered if maybe you saw him with the same wonder and enchantment with which he saw you. It only took the slight tilt of a nod before you crossed your arms over your waist and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head. Your bra came next and Bucky shifted uncomfortably, realizing you were still straddling him, his hardening length prominent against your thigh. 

He stared up at you, studying over the curves of your breasts, the dips in your hips, untouched and exposed – so incredibly beautiful.  

He stopped himself as the thought entered his mind, the wondering whether he deserved such beauty in his life, wondering how he’d managed to trick the cruel twist of karma to allow him to love a woman like this – to love you like this. 

He cast away the doubt, forcing it back to the shadows where it belonged. It was easier to do that when you smiled at him like that, like he was truly worth something.  

You laid down against his chest as his hand slid up along your spine, feeling for the slight dip in your back and the goosebumps following in his wake. You shivered under his touch and for the first time, Bucky remembered what it felt like to be wanted.  

He couldn’t stop kissing you, even as your hands slipped to his waistband. It was like you breathed new life back into him; reviving him with every touch.  

He helped you push down the band of his pants until you could easily drag it down his legs and drop it to the floor by his bed. It had been a long time since he was so vulnerable in front of a woman, but he didn’t mind when you looked at him the way you did. There was no ounce of judgement in your eyes, no cautious glance to his shoulder and the absence there. There was only love.  

You slipped the remaining clothes from your body and Bucky held his breath as you climbed over him again, straddling his waist, bare. 

Bucky was trembling as he reached for the drawer at his bedside. Blindly digging around for a box in the back of the drawer, he felt for the edge of foil wrapping. He brought it to his teeth, careful to rip the packaging, though as he held it in one hand, he let out a heavy sigh.  

“Would you...?” he asked, a blush creeping up into his cheeks.  

He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed, given that you were both naked, but this was one of those things he couldn’t do for himself. It would have felt emasculating if it weren’t for how eagerly you nodded and how good it felt as you placed the condom on his tip and slowly rolled it down his base. He closed his eyes, sinking back into the pillow at the feeling, wondering how he was going to survive this. 

“You alright there, honey?” you called, giggling under your breath and, damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.  

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, his hand sliding up along your waist, thumb brushing over your breast. He tried to catch the whimper as it left his lips to no avail.  

You smirked. “I think we’ve waited long enough. Don’t you think?”  

You sank down on him and he choked back a moan, embarrassingly loud, but it only seemed to spur you on as you rolled your hips, giving him little time to adjust. You were so tight, squeezing around him, and – holy shit – when you dragged yourself against him, using him as you sought out the angle you were looking for, he’d never felt anything like it. 

He held his breath, focusing on the ceiling as he listened to the sweet sounds you made as your hands curled against his chest, hair falling down into your face. He knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted— hell, he would have stayed in you like this for hours if he could have – and it was taking near everything he had to hold out long enough for you to finish.  

Thankfully, you were just as riled up as he was – high on missing him, aching in the distance – and Bucky gasped as he felt your walls clench around him with the rushed circles between your legs. You picked up in pace and Bucky found himself meeting you half way, thrusting up into you as he braced himself on the headboard.  

“Oh God – Bucky,” you whimpered, your chest falling down to his, unable to hold yourself up. He kissed your neck, his hand sliding from around the wooden of the baseboard to grip your hips.  

If he could, he would have had a hand on your breast, teasing at the nipple, the other sliding down to the space between your bodies, rubbing circles on the nerves that left you so breathless you could hardly hold yourself up. But he was learning again, getting used to his body and his limits, and all he could focus on was holding you, guiding your hips, giving him leverage to fill you whole.  

Judging from the sounds you were making, your body molding like puddy against him, you didn’t mind at all. 

“I’m close,” you gasped, breath hot against his neck. “Ah, God, Bucky... I’m-- I’m--” 

He could feel it before the words left your lips, the clench in your walls, the spasms in your muscles that left you weak against him, overstimulated as you pulled your hand away from your clit. Your cries gave him the permission he needed to let go, only a few more thrusts was all it took, and he shuttered as he came.  

Breathless, hardly able to control the laugh as it bubbled in his chest, Bucky could hardly believe that he started this night in the darkest place he’d been in months, only to end up lying here with you, so full of light and love he could hardly stand it.  

He didn’t let you go at first, just wanting to hold you a little longer. He felt the sweet touch of your lips as they trailed along his neck, smile brimming against his ear. Then slowly, you rolled off of him, gently removing the condom and tossing it to the bin. A shiver slipped up his spine at the touch.  

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” Bucky confessed as you laid against his chest, curling up to his side. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Don’t let me do that again, okay? I can’t stand to go another day without you.” 

You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing along the lines on his shoulder, touching over old scars and burns. You traced them as if they were simply lines on his body, just another piece of him worth loving, worth memorizing. He wondered if the next time he saw them in the mirror, he might remember this moment and see them for something more than the evidence of his loss that day. Maybe, he might see them the way you did – as evidence of his survival.  

“I love you,” you sighed and Bucky felt his heart swell; it grew and expanded so wide inside his chest, he wondered if his bones might bend to make room as it split him so lovely at the seams.  

“I love you, too.” He curled his arm tighter around your shoulders, drawing you close to his side. Over your shoulder, a cast of moonlight seeped in through the windows, touching over your skin, illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He closed his eyes as sleep drew him near, comforted by the patterns you drew against his shoulder. 

When he fell asleep, he fell willingly – protected in your embrace, safe, from the nightmares laying in wake.

[obeymeluv]

Quick! Kiss Me! [Part 3 - Mammon]

Same rules apply from Part 2: thoughts are italicized and bolded. May be slightly NSFW because the boys have a crush on you and such. If anyone has suggestions for Asmo’s part or Belphie’s, I’m down to hear it. I kind of have one for Belphie but I feel it’s a little cliché.

Also, I’ve logged back in and started playing Obey Me! since I have a three day weekend and the “Are You Kidding Me?!” event is making me want to write those baby headcanons. Might do that next.

Mammon:

You’d been following a buzzing, bubbling sensation around the house. It was enough to make your teeth rattle at points and you wondered if one of the brothers were using shadow magic to stay on the fringes of your vision (or just out of it). Sometimes it would feel like you were right on top of it, your whole body feeling like loose change in a can, and just as quickly it would stop. The cold wash of going the wrong way was a welcome reprieve.

Exhausted, feeling like you’d lapped the house several times, you dragged yourself back to your bedroom. It wasn’t very romantic but at this point you’d had it! The only thing your poor brain could think of was texting them one by one and just kissing them. If you were honest with yourself, you wouldn’t even need to text all seven. If you were really honest with yourself, you just wanted to text one of them.

And he was in your bed, cuddled into your pillows and half-wrapped in your sheets like he was supposed to be there.

Was he asleep?

You resisted the urge to stomp your foot or startle Mammon awake. His jacket was tossed haphazardly over your small desk chair but his sunglasses had been placed with care on your nightstand. Mammon? You placed on knee on the bed, planning to crawl towards him from the opposite corner. Mammon tended to wake up swinging and flailing; you remembered Belphie yanking him off of “his” spot on the couch but not before he’d fluffed his pillow and took a defensive stance.

Your little brain tap was enough to make him snort and stretch but not open his eyes. Tanned limbs dragged themselves across twisted sheets. He sounded like he’d mumbled something but you couldn’t be sure. You were sure he’d scooped up another pillow to stuff his face in and squeeze to death.

Was that a giggle? Mammon gave a contented little hum, snuggling his face into the new, cool pillow. Mammon! you tried again. It was weird to speak with your brain. Could you raise your voice just by thinking it? You froze in the middle of the bed, Mammon snapping up with a slow blink and a confused slur (and a huffy demon gurgle).

If he wasn’t hugging the pillow, he probably would’ve swung his arms out or fallen out the bed and taken half the sheets with him. Mammon blinked again, his white brows furrowing as he scanned the room. He leaned forward and you barely remembered how utterly blind he was as you watched the sleep lift from blue-yellow eyes.

“So who was the lucky—“ Mammon started off in his fake ‘I’m not interested’ tone but the words died out before he could make them any more indifferent. “Your lips are still sealed shut.” he lurched forward, your noses practically touching. “Your lips are still sealed shut!” he whispered again breathlessly, the quickness of his words matching the excited pulse in his throat.

Mammon’s heart squeezed in his chest. His mouth dried and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything to say. This wasn’t how he thought your first kiss would be but Diavolo be damned if he’d turn it down! The demon could barely filter his desire for you, trying to keep the YES! GIMME! KISS ME, KISS ME! in his head and out of yours. His face started to heat up when the pact mark on your shoulder glowed a soft golden color, painting both of your faces in a candlelight-like glow.

The tiniest part of his awed brain could feel his mouth slipping open in shock. You were a vision with golden highlights. Golden highlights from his pact mark! It made him want to take you on a fancy restaurant date and see it again.

Mammon? you were waiting on him now, ever so careful. So considerate. That’s what he loved about you. You put up with a lot of his walls and his loud behavior but deep down you knew. He knew you knew, and he was glad you kept his secret.

The people who made the loudest echoes were often the most fragile. He was a giving heart that had been corrupted against his will, and he had not totally hardened with the fall. You saw those scars and chips and cracks and somehow healed all of it with your human hands. With your smile. Your touch.

Hell, you just saying his name could wipe centuries of suffering from his mind.

“Was I your first choice?” Mammon’s voice turned raspy and tight. He couldn’t bear to hear you say you’d gone to one of the others first. He’d seen you going from room to room, slinking around the house in a way only the second-eldest could master. Years of trying to slip out past curfew and make off with a few odds and ends no one would miss without getting caught had its perks. Watching you touch doors and turn halls gutted him and drove him to seek refuge in your room.

He’d consoled himself amongst your pillows—your scent—and tried not to cry. Even if you didn’t choose him, he’d still have you as a friend. Maybe an in-law. That didn’t stop the cold twisting in his guts or the burning anguish in his chest as he realized over and over that he was one of seven. The other six were better than him, he feared. He was just scummy, scummy Mammon.

You don’t think you are? You tilted your head as you looked at him, hands coming up to comb gently through his hair and massage the bottom of his ears. Your hands smoothed down his neck, drawing him into a hug that was just…very you. Comforting and genuine and wholesome. He felt it first physically, then emotionally as your pact mark burned a little brighter.

You dummy, it was so light, so teasing and gentle that Mammon couldn’t help but smile as you cupped his face and brought his lips up to yours. “Of course you’re my first choice. You’re my first man, aren’t you?”

Mammon realized you said that with your mouth--your open mouth—and he exploded into a rolling yayayayaya victory warble. His eyes were a molten yellow, almost as bright as Diavolo’s (maybe brighter). Tears beaded in his eyes and Mammon blinked them away, stuffing his face into your neck as he tackled you to the bed. A burst of heat rolled over you as his horns came out a hot skin touched yours, the demon greedily snuggling into like he’d finally found his home.

He was scenting you with all his snuggling and ‘settling’ but you didn’t mind, patting his back and running your fingertips across the seams in his black jacket. In all his ‘settling’ you’d been turned onto your side and scooped up by him. Mammon locked his arms around you, feet tangling with yours. He’d tucked you under his chin to keep you away from his horns. “I can’t believe you took so long!” he whined, fingers playing with your hair, “making me wait like that! I’m a busy guy, you know?”

“I can take your place if you’re so busy!” you saw a hint of Asmo in the doorway and probably Levi behind him before Mammon’s wing blocked your view. They’d been called by the noise Mammon made earlier.

“Get lost, the lot of ya!” Mammon flapped his free wing at them. He hugged you closer and you briefly wondered if this what a dragon did with their hoard. You laughed at the thought. “This is my human! And my human is spending time with their first man!” he’d made a little tent out of his wing, peeking down at you with pride and love and a little hesitancy that begged you to back him up because his embarrassment was outweighing his ability to run his smart mouth.

You responded by kissing his chest, little kitten kisses that climbed his throat and jaw and could definitely be heard with demon ears. Popping out from just under his wing, you pecked his lips. His nose just to catch him off guard. “It’s very personal time.” you teased, rubbing his shoulders as his wing unfolded to show you off, sitting happily atop your man.

There were scowls and little demon grumbles you’d never be able to understand, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t even hear them over the sound of Mammon’s purr.

[newtie-patootie-bootie]

Masquerade (Prologue)

Summary: This is your third season and your aspirations on finding love are dwindling but news on Lady Whistledown’s society pages say that there is to be a foreign royal in attendance to the season. Could this royal dignitary be the one you’ve been waiting for, or could there be a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows, waiting to pluck your heart for his?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bridgerton nor The Mandalorian- all rights go to the owners and creators of their separate stories.

Warnings: None just yet, enjoy my writing as I lead up to the story!!

|| Please do not repost or plagiarise my work ||

| Chapter 1 |

“Dearest, have you read the newest Lady Whistledown?” Your mother burst into the drawing room with a flurry of her skirts, clutching the article in her fist as you, your brother and your father took in her frazzled form. 

Her eyes were alight with excitement and she was nearly vibrating with delight, “no, Mama. I haven’t.” You answered her, eyebrows pulling together gently and she barrelled forward, slapping the scandal sheet in your hand. 

You abandoned your needlepoint on your lap and opened the reports gingerly, perusing the freshly printed words with increasing distress:

‘In related news to this year’s promising season, my dearest reader- my sources say that a discreet candidate was called on by the Queen herself!

In a show of good faith and generosity to the newly signed trade agreements between the Crown and the elusive, yet breathtaking realm of Mandalore; it seems that this mysterious suitor has touched foot on our verdant lands in search of one of this season’s blossomed flowers to pluck for his own. 

I have heard that this particular aspirant is eager to secure an acceptable match, perhaps with the season’s named Incomparable? 

Or, perhaps there will be a sweet winter blossom that bloomed so richly as she was presented to Her Majesty, the Queen for her third season. Could the magnificent daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Wintere snatch such a lucrative title from Miss Daphne Bridgerton?

I so do adore a good rivalry between two influential families and as such, I would like to express my most exuberant notions of good fortunes to each family and may the best woman win.

This intrepid author would also like to disclose that there should be a number of severe competitors at the Danbury Ball this evening- and even worse, bloodthirsty mama’s charging forward with energetic hopes to secure the prospects of such an exceptional suitor.

After all, it is not everyday you are offered the chance to become a Queen.’

“She has named our dearest daughter a ‘winter blossom’, no doubt in reference to our family crest, darling!” Thomas’ eyebrows lifted at the high praise and yes, it was true. The family crest consisted of blooming hellebores and a snowy owl taking flight. “She also named our daughter to be a worthy adversary of the season’s Incomparable, Daphne Bridgerton!” Elaine gushed, taking a seat beside her husband and her skirts pooled with the air trapped but she seemed nonplussed as did Thomas who watched her with an adoring smile. “Isn’t that wonderful, darling?” 

“I’d consider that a high honour indeed!” Thomas boasted proudly, raising his teacup to you and a sigh left your lips, ever world-weary. 

“Looks more like a wilted weed to me.” Your brother teased and earned a reproachful stare from your parents, Ryder shrugged off the blistering glare from your mother before turning back to his book. 

“Mama,” you implored, the paper crinkling in your tight grip, “do not put any stock into Whistledown’s scribblings- she has a tendency to exaggerate and her words incite challenge when there is no need for it.” You scoffed, tossing the offending scrap on the plush cushion beside you, “she has surely just made Daphne and I targets for the 200 other girls for the entire season!” 

Ryder stood from his place across the room and moved closer, snatching the crinkled sheet from the pillow and plopped himself down, taking in its contents for himself, “Cressida Cowper is going to eat you alive, dearest sister.”

“Please do not remind me of Cressida Cowper, do I not appear distressed enough for you to cease your mistimed jibes, brother?” Your tone heightened, echoing somewhat in the drawing room.

Ryder’s smirk softened into a worried frown and took your hand in his in a soothing fashion, soft thumb massaging the space between your knuckles, “apologies, sweet sister. I only wished to make light of your situation for your own piece of mind.” 

Sighing, you whispered your own apology at your sudden snap and you hummed softly in thought before a mischievous grin curled against your lips, “if anyone should feel concerned about Cressida Cowper’s intentions, I would think you to be more perturbed than I, older brother. The heir to the Duke of Wintere, a monumental promise of success to any willing debutante, I’m certain.” Ryder shuddered at the thought of the ill-mannered girl setting gladiatorial eyes on him and the notion of the high prospects he would bring to the mart. Immediately abandoning your hand, he burrowed himself deeper into the seat beside you and flicked the sheet out dramatically.

It was an indiscreet attempt to occupy his mind elsewhere as he kept his eyes firmly on the black print, yet he took not one word of the information in.

“Darling, this is good.” Your mother’s voice gently eased you from you and your brother’s banter as she reached forward and took your hand in hers, “this means that suitors will now take notice of you, and if this king hears word of your beauty in Whistledown’s musings, then I believe we should all be thankful to the woman, do you not agree?”

Your fingers curled around hers but your eyes remained downcast at your half-sewn needlepoint and you sighed softly, “I don’t see the need for such articles to be published. There will be enough dramatics to satisfy the weak-minded all season.” 

“Your mother and I only want what is best for you, little owlet.” Your eyes raised to meet Thomas’, his gaze warm, tone loving as he levelled you with an adoring smile, “if it eases your mind, I have come across some news of this new ruler during my time at the club. I have heard he is just and fair. An honourable gentleman if somewhat mysterious as Lady Whistledown reports. You have nothing to lose by dazzling him with your grace and charm- but you have everything to gain if you succeed in wooing him. You have no need for tricks or deception to win the attention of any suitor, for you are perfect just the way you are.” Tears blurred your vision, threatening to slip down your cheeks. Your frown turned into a watery smile as your father placed his warm, large hand over you and your mothers, “and I shall be there to protect you and only agree to a match deserving of a jewel such as yourself.” 

You sniffled back the forming tears before smiling warmly, “thank you, Papa.” 

“There is no need for gratitude, dearest. This is a father’s duty; one I aim to fulfill to the highest regard-” Your father’s words were cut short as one of the servants walked into the drawing room.

“Your dresses have arrived, Your Grace, my Lady.”

“Ooh!” Elaine shot up from her seat, clapping in excitement before grabbing your hand and hauling you upstairs to your room, “we must find the perfect gown for tonight’s fete!” 

Your sputtering and half formed protests carried down the hallway as Thomas opened the newspaper that had been sitting untouched in his lap, chuckling indulgently, “ever the child, your mother.” 

Ryder shook his head in amusement, a smile curling his lips.

"Have you read the newest Whistledown? Foreign royalty searching for a suitable bride? I suspect this season will turn out to be exemplary.” 

"I heard that this King's treasury is one to rival the Crown itself."

"I heard he has a son, yet there is no mother that has come forward to claim the child. A most scandalous affair, indeed!"

"I heard that their land is rich in minerals. Some type of iron that is nigh indestructible! I'd wager it'd fetch a high price."

"Daphne Bridgerton locked in a violent competition with the Duke and Duchess of Wintere’s daughter? How delicious."

"I have never heard of this Mandalore, is it near Scotland?"

You were barely able to contain your ire for the gossiping hounds polluting the air of the ballroom. 

Your jaw ticked imperceptibly and you fought the urge to roll your eyes so hard you would be able to see the back of your head.

Their whispers were anything but that as you walked past each intrusive mama and daughter as they revelled in the rumors etched in the latest scandal sheet authored by Lady Whistledown, containing information of a supposed king attending the ball. 

Your eyes scanned the ballroom and made contact with the youngest Featherington- carving a path for her, her rounded figure swathed in a bright, eye-catching yellow gown that suited her complexion and figure little, yellow beads and jewels glittering in the lights overhead.

You caught her eye and her shy demeanor slipped somewhat as she smiled, excited to see a familiar face and you curled your arm through hers and locked them together, “why have I not seen you on the dance floor, Miss Featherington?” You asked and Penelope sighed. 

“I am just admiring the view, Lady Dalton,” you raise one brow at the title and her tiny frown curled into an indulgent smile as she corrected herself and called you by your given name, “you seem to have taken the room by storm when you joined the dance floor, every bachelor here has his eyes on you and Daphne tonight. I would think many of the suitors here are bursting at the seams for your hand- and it is your third season as well.” 

“No doubt to Lady Whistledown’s meddling, I’d wager. I have already entertained enough male suitors tonight. I shall take my leave of them for the time being,” your tone changed to a slight whine which served to incite Penelope’s rich giggles, “have you taken your turn about the room?” 

“I’m afraid I am not as carefully provided for as you, my Lady. Father has decided to forego these events and my mama is not quite so attuned to my aspirations to ensure a well-rounded tour.” 

“Well, then, allow me, Miss Featherington.” You hummed politely, smiling brilliantly at the shy girl who returned the gesture just as brightly and you led the way about the hall. Nodding your head politely to every suitor that greeted you, you curled closer to Penelope, “I see your mother is surveying the hall with Lady Cowper and Lady Edgecomb.” Penelope’s world-weary exhale betrayed her true thoughts and you ran a soothing line along the back of her hand with your thumb, “the determination of rumormongers is indeed boundless, are they not? Perhaps, we shall next be blessed with the sight of them suspended from the rafters with ear trumpets to survey even the most meagre pieces of gossip.” Penelope giggled, covering her mouth with her hand daintily as she did so, bowing her head. 

“Ah,” Anthony Bridgerton exclaimed, his arm encircled with Daphne’s as they stepped in front of you, “Miss Featherington, Lady Dalton.” 

“Penelope,” Daphne spoke your names warmly, her bright smile widening as she curtseyed perfectly.

“Lord Bridgerton, Daphne.” You and Penelope greeted in unison, curtseying elegantly though you felt your arm tense as Penelope teetered on her feet in an attempt to keep her balance. You rose rather quickly to save her any embarrassment, “how fares the hunt, Daphne? Many of the most eligible suitors have presented themselves at this fete, don’t you agree?”

“Oh yes, my Lady.” Anthony spoke over his sister, answering for her. “Quite a well-rounded affair. Why, I can count every worthy bachelor on each finger of my left hand.” Daphne stared at her brother, aghast but your tinkling laughter could not be hidden with a well-placed hand over your mouth.

“I could only hope that you could spare a finger for my own brother, my Lord? Is he not worthy of your high praise? I would hate to inform my father of this scandalous news!” You teased slyly, a sparkle of mischief in your eyes as Anthony chuckled.

“Of course, my lady. Ryder Dalton, heir to the title Duke of Wintere is honest and true. A man worthy of the title he will one day inherit.” You bowed your head gracefully at the praise.

“Did you read the latest entry of Lady Whistledown’s scandal sheet?” Daphne asked, head inclined slightly in question and your lip curled in irritation, earlier humor forgotten.

“Unfortunately, dearest Daphne. What does this author hope to accomplish by sowing dissension among peers? It is only going to be harder for us if we are to be locked in this invented rivalry until the season ends. Not to mention that all other 200 fine young women will see us as common adversaries to quarrel for a desirable bachelor.” You shook your head and sighed wistfully.

“Perhaps, Lady Whistledown’s sources were incorrect in their counsel. I have yet to see a comely King from a foreign land in our midst.” Daphne teased and you chuckled, nodding as you looked about the room but gazed over no fanfare nor buzzing enthusiasm.

“Nor a royal guard. What do you think, Penelope?” You hummed and the young woman beside you almost wiggled with excitement to be counted.

“I believe that Lady Whistledown is breeding a development early in the season to incite challenge.” You voiced a wordless agreement and Penelope continued, her fingers still clinging to yours, “Her Majesty is one to be enthralled and I would think that the public invitation to this monarch of Mandalore is an attempt to bring about said excitement.” Penelope’s curls bounced around her rounded face as she spoke and you took her words in with great thought. 

“A compelling view, if I ever heard!” Anthony complimented and Penelope bowed at Anthony’s flattery, “if you ladies will excuse us, we still must take our view of the room.” 

“Ah, we shall keep you no longer! Happy hunting, my Lord. Good luck, Daphne.” You sympathised genuinely and Daphne huffed in agreement as her brother pulled her away. “That was excellent, Penelope. Sharp wit, indeed!” 

Your words were met with sweet giggles from your friend as you continued your turn about the room, dance cards dangling delicately from your gloved wrists in and quizzed Penelope on the memory of her miniatures, impressed with her skill to point out each suitor with ease.

Once Penelope tired of walking, she took her rest by the edge of the dance floor and you bid her luck before striding to the refreshments table in search of a beverage to quench your thirst.

Your eyes remained locked on the small glasses of lemonade, unbothered with taking care in your surroundings- you were shocked to feel someone knock into you rather forcefully. You stumbled, unable to right yourself and you could feel your traitorous feet tangle around each other. 

Time seemed to slow to a complete stop, though your mind ran freely and aware. A frisson of fear crackled down your spine at the premature embarrassment of the predicament you were just about to drop yourself in just as you felt strong hands slip against your back, righting you almost as quickly as your legs betrayed you. 

“Oh, goodness, please do excuse my-” your apology trailed off into stunned silence as you took in the unfamiliar man you could call your savior. This stranger that had his arms around you in a most improper fashion and you know you should untangle yourself from his touch immediately but the heat of his large, ungloved hands bled into the exquisite material of your gown, through your corset and seared directly into the flesh of your arched back.

His clothing was much the same of every suitor attending, nothing unique or flamboyant to stand out amongst the countless other candidates. The slight crinkles in his suit brought an air of indifference- as if he cared little for the state of his dress. What persuaded you to fully take in his form, was his sun kissed, bronze skin that shone deep in the synthetic light of the chandelier accompanied by the ornate lights mounted on the wall; so striking and different from the many men that boasted pale complexions and youth.

You could see the ruggedness in the etchings in his skin, the lines that betrayed his advanced age compared to the others in attendance. The hair atop his head was rich and dark with slight streaks of gray, airy soft curls that adorned his head like a crown, wild and untamed. The same dark hair that graced his head, also carved around his jawline and upper lip, small patches of hair scarce in some places- so unlike the pronounced fashions in high society and you found yourself preferring the unkemptness. His eyes were a harsh change from the softness of his hair, striking and bold. They glittered like dark gems in the gentle lights as he perused your features, intelligent yet curious as he took you in with a cool countenance and thick brows pulled together in an expression of concern.

A prominent nose curved down with a hooked slope, rather large but it suited him and you fought the urge to caress the curved bridge with your fingertip. Pink lips parted, thin but pillowy as the tip of a red tongue slipped between to hydrate the slightly chapped flesh. 

It set him apart from the rest, a beauty you so desperately wished to explore.

Just as you studied this unfamiliar man, he also took your form in. 

His gaze was not leering like many of the bachelors loitering about the room- nor a lecherous grin curved those sinfully soft lips as he drank in your appearance with ease, noting every detail and micro expression with rapid ease and forced himself to cease the ever growing notion to tighten his arms around you, drag you closer to his chest when he felt the way your body curled into his touch, seeking the warmth he provided on a subconscious level. 

Clearing his throat softly, he righted you on your feet and took a step back, bowing at the waist and a soft curl slipped in front of his handsome features, concealing his left eye, “forgive my impropriety, my Lady,” his voice was deep, rasped and foreign and those same lips curled around each word with an elegance none of the men here could hope to match, “my intentions were pure, I assure you. I did not mean-” 

“-t-the apologies are mine, my Lord. I did not see you.” You cut off his apology, your usual confidence abandoning you and curtseyed softly before you both straightened in tandem, “please accept my most sincere apologies.” 

“Only if you accept mine, my Lady, as I was the one to knock you.” This man raised his eyes to meet yours, a small smile playing on his lips at your stunned expression. 

Realising how unladylike you seemed, you quickly smoothed your expression into a serene smile and bowed your head gently, “well then, I accept your apology, my Lord.” 

“And now, I shall receive yours.” He bowed once again, though his eyes never once strayed from yours, his hand coming to brush back the curl that slipped in front of his face, freeing his eye from the obstacle. “Quite an affair, is it not?”

You turned to look upon the room and the dozens of bodies packed in the lavish ball and the bodies moving in rhythmic synchronisation as they flounced around the dancefloor, skirts billowing and waistcoats whipping. “Yes, my Lord. It is certainly a promising fete.” You ripped your gaze from the dancers and you looked back to the mysterious suitor that you know for a fact his profile has never graced your miniatures. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure, my Lord.” You introduced yourself and he bowed his head in a nod to your status. 

“Din Djarin, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady.”

You did not miss the way he left out his title, not many men did. It was refreshing to meet someone unbothered by status and titles. You smiled brilliantly and for a moment, he had trouble remembering how to breathe. 

How did people do this?

“What brings you to London, Lord Djarin? I do not believe I have seen you here.” You certainly couldn’t recall seeing those mesmerizing, yet prominent features etched in your miniatures.

“I’m in town for business, mostly- but I thought I would attempt to join the fray of finding a beautiful woman to make my bride.” Din’s eyes found yours when his lips curved out the word ‘beautiful’. You could feel your cheeks heat and quickly brought the tiny glass to your lips and took a long draught- almost emptying the glass entirely. It was unseemly on your part but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care, you needed to soothe your drying throat and tame the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“And what better place to be than a cotillion for ambitious debutants who are searching for the perfect match?” Betraying your inner emotions, you struck up kind conversation, performing an air of confidence and strengthened your resolve. A wide smile stretched his lips, revealing perfect, straight teeth and the act of a simple smile brightened his features. Your heart slammed against your ribcage in response, your steely courage cracking in half with little to no effort.

He took a sip of his own lemonade just as a pair of gossiping mama’s walked past you both, talking loud enough for you to overhear their conversation with minimal exertion- if any, “and where, pray tell, is this so-called king?"

"Perhaps, Whistledown's sources were wrong. You can never trust a scandal sheet these days, I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be a charlatan." 

You swallowed the sigh you desperately craved to release and inwardly shook yourself free from the coils of irritation that started to constrict around you before turning your attention back to the mysterious lord, only to notice his eyes were following the rumormongers and you helped yourself to a portioned sip of lemonade in an endeavor to quell the heat burning within you. A certain dark fire heated his gaze, stoking a reaction in you. Something deep and primal you had never experienced before and you suppressed a shudder at the ferocity clearly displayed in those deep, dark eyes.

“What are your thoughts on this foreign monarch, my Lord?” You barely managed to choke out, Din’s eyes snapped back to you as your question hung in the air and you swallowed subtly as his piercing gaze burned through yours.

“My thoughts?” He rasped, shifting on his feet in a show of subtle anxiousness. His earlier fire dissipating and awkward trepidation took the forefront.

“What do you make of the rumors surrounding the arrival of a ruler of a distant land coming to London to participate in the season?” You tilted your head in innocent curiosity, “surely, you have heard of this mysterious King hailing from his distant realm?”

“Rumor articles and gossip do not interest me, but yes, I am familiar with the topic you wish to discuss.” His smile twisted his lips into a forced stretch- barely passing for genuine and you weren’t sure as to why he seemed so uncomfortable when just moments earlier he was quite at ease conversing with you.

“And what do you make of his scarcity when his arrival was rumored to be a most certain guarantee? I should think the King would be thankful for not attending. Overbearing mothers and their equally simpering daughters have proven to be nuisances at the best of times.”

“Is that so?” Din looked at you, surprise colouring his pleasing features at your unfiltered response, “are you not disappointed that you may not meet this ruler and further your prospects on the mart?” His hand gestured subtly at his side, the barely touched lemonade sloshing dangerously close to the rim, “it would be a high honour to catch the eye of a king, now would it not?”

You chuckled, ducking your head for a moment, reflecting on your answer before opening your lips, “as silly as it may sound, I wish to marry for love.” You raised your hand, noncommittal waving it about, “I realise it will never happen, you do not endure two seasons with silly notions of love intact. I must maintain a status beholden of my title and secure a proper, advantageous match. But I can operate under the illusion of hope, can I not?” Din’s eyes cast down in thought, your words were soft, spoken quietly as if you were afraid another may overhear- whether by accident or on purpose, he could not say.

But the sincerity in your eyes could not be overlooked, the innocent yearning for a future that could very well be out of your reach sparkled against the hues of your irises. 

“Perhaps your aspirations will be met, my Lady.” Din smiled kindly and you hummed in thought, but your brilliant smile was dim. Working up his courage, he set the small glass of his barely touched lemonade on the refreshment table and vaguely gestured to the dancefloor, anxiousness twisting his features almost comically, “w-would you care to dance?”

His hand was large, rough with thick fingers. They were working hands, familiar with hard labour and you shivered imperceptibly at the thought of those hands running down the expanse of your naked flesh. 

You took a few steps forward, maintaining a respectable distance for propriety’s sake. With a smooth movement, you gently leant around him- his eyes never left yours as you placed your glass on the refreshment table beside his.

A gentle scent curled into your nose, blessing your senses with the subtle hints of sweet spices, oak and . . . a touch of gunpowder.

A heady, peculiar scent and it suited its wearer perfectly.

You slid your gloved hand into his, fingers slipping against his palm. The gossamer material caught on the rough skin of his palm and his lips upturned into a grin. “It would be my pleasure, Lord Djarin.” He grinned and you helped him by pointing to the card around your wrist and he made a soft ‘oh’ sound before taking hold of it and let go of your hand to grip the tiny pencil- thick fingers swallowing the dainty stationary and you smiled as he filled the Canon Galop Quadrille with his name in sharp, messy strokes.

“Shall we?” He let the card and pencil drop as his fingers snaked up your wrist slowly, feeling every dip and hollow before clasping your hand gently and leading you to the dance floor. “I must confess, I’m not accustomed to dancing all that much. I pray you forgive me if I fumble.”

You chuckled softly as you joined the other couples on the dancefloor and took your places. You smiled at Din who shuffled in place subtly, waves of anxiety pouring out of him, “I will not judge you, Lord Djarin. You have my most sincere promise and if you have any issues with the steps, I shall guide you. Do not worry.” He looked at you, your soothing tone calming the raging storm of distress inside him and he reciprocated with a smile of his own. 

The music began to play as you curtseyed to the other couples and took your place in front of Din, your hand slipping into his and a strong muscular arm wrapped around your back, large hand splayed across the expanse of your skin and you suppressed another shudder at the addicting heat he emitted. With a gentle nod, the tempo in the set increased and you began to skip about the room with practiced ease.

You gently tilted in a different direction, silently alluding to the next movement and he carried you effortlessly through the throngs of couples, winding around the dancefloor perfectly.

Giggles erupted from your throat, this particular dance always brought out the child within you and Din smiled at the sound, finding that he wished to hear it more often. “I dare say, my Lord, that you move quite well for not being accustomed to this particular dance.”

“I’m rather accustomed to a life outdoors, perhaps it has aided me well.” Din murmured, tightening his hold against your back.

You twisted and twirled around the dancefloor, weaving around bodies and as you separated to complete the next act of the dance, your eyes never left his and the mysterious man seemed more than content to hold your gaze and then you were back in each other’s arms.

“Perhaps, we could discuss the matter of dancing etiquette further, at a more. . private venue?” You asked quietly, alluding for him to call on your home. 

Before he could open his mouth to reply, a loud thump hit the ground and the music paused abruptly and you both stopped, all the guests' gazes swivelled to the ballroom doors as they were thrust open violently.

Gasps and shrieks rippled across the room as two armoured warriors marched forward, spears in hand and their features concealed by unusual helmets, stark colours streaked across the material in a wash of deep reds, browns, yellows and teals along with similarly handprints. A dark- completely opaque visor stretched across their helmets before spanning down, splintering the armour in half.

The curve of their coloured breastplates indicated their feminine physiques, pieces of vibrant painted plates clung to the thick, almost tribal clothing they wore beneath- sharp hues of red and brown adorned their bodies, hems tied tight with pieces of dark leather around their wrists and calves. Fur lined the capes around their shoulders as the thick material flowed to their booted feet, the leather scuffed and worn- creased from years of dedication and physical labor. 

Yet your eyes remained trained on the pure silver spears they held at the sides, pointed ends lifted straight in the air as they slammed the butts of the weapons down against the polished floors in tandem. 

A loud metallic ringing filled the ballroom and harsh bootfalls began to echo. 

Din stiffened in your arms before gently extricating you from his hold, the both of you turning to face the open entrance.

You swallowed harshly as a hulking figure took the space of the doorway, silver armour gleamed in the lights above, clearly displaying the pure gold accents weaved through the chest plate and accompanying pieces- dark clothes thick and concealing any form of skin to be shown, brown gloves worn, flaxen tips stark against the deep colours.

Just like his guards, he was not unarmed. But unlike carrying a spear of his own- you did not miss the pure obsidian claymore sheathed around his back. The hilt was brilliant against the darkness of the blade- made up of what seemed to be the same material that adorned his body. 

His helmet was simple- unlike the tribal colourings of his people, his was silver- notes of gold bled through the seams of the visor, framing it with its simplistic beauty and fur lined his shoulders, gold chain clinking against the silver metal and the crimson cape billowed behind him as he continued with his heavy gait. 

“Is it him? Surely not!”

“I expected a fanfare- yet this is not what I had imagined.”

“Do they dress like this in Mandalore? Will I have to?!”

“Look at them, so primal!”

“Why do they carry weapons? So uncivilised.” 

Whispers filled the hall as the foreign stranger stopped, his helmet scanning the room.

“The twenty-fourth monarch of our sovereign land,” The guards called, demanding silence from all in attendance, “The First of Clan Mudhorn and sole ruler of Manda’yaim. We present our king, the Manda’lor.” Their fists beat against their breastplates as they turned and faced their leader and bent their knee to the floor, heads bowed in respect. “This is the Way.”

The dark visor continued to survey the hall until it stopped-

-directly onto you.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes caught your reflection staring back at you from across the room, you could no longer feel Din’s presence beside you. A quiet, rasping voice rang true from beneath the ornate silver helm, so familiar and yet completely unplaceable.

“This is the Way.”

[jayeray-hq]

Bass Down Low

Hey everyone! Welcome to my part of the new NSFW Anilysium Server Collab! The theme for it this time is "Band/Tattoo/Badass"! Please check out some of the other amazing writers and artists in the collab by following the link!

If you like my writing for Terushima, check out my other stories in his character masterlist!

Tattooed Bass Guitar Player Terushima x Sassy Confident fem!reader

Tiny tiny bit of angst, but mostly fluff and smut

Warnings: NSFW 18+ minors dni! Grinding, dry humping, making out, slight exhibitionism, switch Terushima, switch reader, male nipple piercings, cock piercing, blowjobs, cunnilingus, overstimulation, vaginal sex, biting, scratching/pain kink

13K+ words

You could feel the bass as it thrummed through the air, making your whole body feel like it was vibrating. The energy was absolutely electric as you soaked in the music and the wild energy of the crowd as it pulsed and moved around you. Bodies were packed in fairly close and you could feel sweat dripping down your back, sticking to your neck and dewing at your temples.

Glancing over you saw your friend sandwiched between two good looking people clearly having the time of her life, lips locked with the person in front of her as they all ground together. You huffed in amusement, glad the two of you had already agreed you’d need to find your way home separately, otherwise you had the feeling you might’ve accidentally been left behind, that or you’d be the awkward third party to whatever was going on there.

Still despite how difficult leaving was going to be, and the sticky feeling of your clothes on your sweaty skin you didn’t regret coming for a minute. You’d been looking forward to coming to this music festival for ages and now that you were finally here you couldn’t get enough. Some of your favorite bands had played, and there were going to be even more in the coming days, you couldn’t wait.

You let yourself move with the music, swirling and rocking your hips, hands in the air as a bubble of laughter burst from your lips. You felt almost drunk on euphoria despite not touching a single drop of alcohol. You’d decided early on not to drink anything but water because you didn’t want to miss or forget a single moment of the experience.

A warm hand settled on your waist, pulling you out of your rhythm and you glanced back, to see someone standing behind you. It was full dark out, the only lights the ones coming from the stage, and a few overhead. However, despite the darkness you could make out an angular jaw, dark eyes and the golden color of his hair, along with the black ink creeping out of the neckline of his tank and up his throat, and spiraling down his shoulders and arms.

Just the sight of all that pretty ink was enough to make you feel incredibly attracted to the stranger, but the fact that he hadn’t come right up and started grinding on you without so much as a by-your-leave was definitely a bonus in your book, a courtesy you fully intended to reward as you rocked your ass back into the cradle of his hips, grinding yourself into him.

“I’ll take that to mean I can dance with you, sexy?” he half-asked, half-shouted in order to be heard over the music.

You didn’t bother to respond verbally, not wanting to shout to be heard, instead flashing him a smile, and grabbing hold of his other hand setting it easily on the curve of your waist. You noted with fascination and a pulse of liquid heat that he was wearing several rings on his fingers and had tattoos on his hands as well.

He was a surprisingly good dancer, his body moving fluidly with yours, hands resting solidly on your hips, just enough to flow without taking control of your movements. They never strayed from your hips either, remaining firmly in place as the two of you moved. You lifted your hands into the air and leaned back against his chest, finding a solid wall of lean muscle as you hooked one of your arms around his neck and curling your fingers through the surprisingly silky strands at the back of his head.

Your entire body felt hot, and when you turned to look at him, the intense look in his dark eyes sent a pulse of desire through you. You weren’t sure if it was the music, the adrenaline, or the heat of his hands on your hips, but you surged forward to press your mouth to his.

He met you eagerly, his mouth hot against yours, as you continued to grind back into him automatically. The hands on your hips pulled you closer removing any distance between the two of you, so that your ass was pressed right up against the cradle of his hips, and you could feel his solid length, hard against your rear.

You moaned into his mouth, incredibly turned on, as he took over the rhythm of your grinding, taking advantage of your open mouth to tease his tongue against your upper lip. You immediately jerked back in surprise, pulling yourself out of his grip so you could turn around.

It was hard to tell, but you thought your dance partner looked startled by your sudden departure, his hands raised as if to show he meant you no harm. You weren’t at all worried about that though, thoroughly distracted by what you’d thought you felt, You surged forward, guided by the press of the crowd and looped your arms around his neck.

Closer now you could see his eyebrows arched in surprise, a glint of wariness in his eyes that disappeared as your hand caressed his jaw, thumb gently pressing on his lower lip in question. He immediately flashed you a cocky smirk, and opened for you, sticking out his tongue and revealing the metal you’d felt against your lip.

“That’s so hot,” you told him, your lips pressed close to his ear so he could hear you.

“I know,” he shouted back with a smirk, before surging forward to reclaim your lips again.

You met him eagerly, immediately opening your mouth, eager to see what he could do with the enticing piece of jewelry through his tongue. He didn’t disappoint, tongue twining and rubbing against yours, the slick sensation of metal strange but not at all unpleasant as he teased it expertly over your tongue.

You hummed in delight as you twined your arms around his neck, fingers running through his hair as you pressed yourself tightly up against him, not even bothering with the music anymore, thoroughly distracted by the taste and feel of him against you.

His hands dipped lower, sliding into the back pockets of your jeans and when you didn’t protest he began to knead your ass, using his grip to hold you tight to his hips and press himself against your belly. You leaned against him, bracing more of your weight so you could lift one of your legs and wrap it around his hips, earning a groan of pleasure that you felt more than heard, the sound rumbling through his chest.

Your hands dipped lower, feeling the strong muscle of his back, and letting your head tip to the side, as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin as his lips found the column of your throat. Breathy sighs and gasps left your lips as you ground your hips against him, seeking friction for your aching cunt. You could feel how wet you were, and were suddenly grateful you’d worn shorts rather than a skirt otherwise you would’ve been dripping down your thighs.

You whined as he found the perfect spot on your neck, hands digging into his back as he nipped and sucked at it, teasing it with the smooth metal of his piercing as his hands guided your hips in just the right way to stimulate your clit, the seam of your shorts pressing into you deliciously with every movement of his hips.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were absolutely sure you could come just like this. Unfortunately right as you were about to reach your peak the roar of the crowd took an upswing, and you realized the band that had been playing was finished. You grimaced at having to stop, but figured you owed the band its due recognition. They’d been very good, and so you applauded and cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

The announcer told you there would be a quick fifteen-minute break before the next set, and you turned toward your dance partner, an offer to leave together and finish what you’d started on the tip of your tongue only to find the most horrified look on his face. Your heart dropped, wondering if you’d somehow done something wrong as his face swiveled between you and the stage.

You’d been about to back away, thinking you might as well use the crowd to escape the awkward situation you were in, when he surged forward to grip your hand.

“Come with me?” he half-asked, half-demanded, a determined light in his eyes that made you a bit nervous.

“Come with you where?” you asked, suddenly wary despite the fact that you’d been about to offer the same thing just seconds ago.

“I don’t really have time to explain,” he told you sheepishly, “But I swear you’re safe with me. Just trust me for a bit and I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do.”

He waggled his tongue at you for emphasis, brandishing his piercing, and you couldn’t help the snort of amusement that left you. You searched his face for a few seconds, but in the end decided, despite his slightly rougher appearance that there was an earnestness in his gaze that you felt could be trusted.

“All right,” you agreed, “But if you try anything funny I’ll kick your ass.”

“That’s hot,” he told you, a little wide-eyed and clearly lustful, not the reaction you were expecting, “I knew you were something special little miss sexy. Don’t worry, the only thing you might have to be afraid of is how any other man will measure up after you’ve had me.”

You huffed a laugh at that, amused despite yourself, and a little turned on by his confidence, as you agreed, “Well then, how could I say no to an offer like that? Lead the way then mister hot shot.

He flashed you a delighted grin that was more boyish and charming than you’d expected as he moved to do as he was told, keeping a strong grip on your hand as he expertly weaved his way through the crowd. You got a little worried when he started to lead you out and around, worried about the slowly thinning herd of people, which would mean a lack of witnesses if something went wrong.

However, he didn’t lead you out and away, instead pulling you towards a security guard who was chatting with a worried looking man with neat dark hair and glasses, whose eyes were darting around, clearly searching for something or someone.

His worried look faded away into relieved exasperation as he spotted the two of you, his eyes skimming over you briefly before turning all his attention to the man dragging you along by the hand, “Terushima! How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t just go wandering off right before the set starts!”

“Relax Anabara,” your guide, whose name was apparently Terushima, told the older man, far too casually for someone who was being lectured, “I got back in time didn’t I?”

“Barely,” Anabara hissed back, “you’re cutting it awfully close. Why do you need to go wandering off anyway?”

“Wanted to get a look at the stage and get a feel for the crowd,” he admitted with a shrug and a grin, “Energy’s way hot tonight, and I managed to run into someone interesting too.”

That immediately redirected both of their attention to you. You were still clutching Terushima’s hand, but were starting to feel like you shouldn’t be, as you finally put two and two together, your hold on him loosening slightly in response as you turned to him and blurted, “You’re in a band?!”

“You’re looking at Johzenji’s best bass player, and main song writer,” he told you smugly, a pleased smirk on his face.

You tried to find words, but couldn’t, utterly flabbergasted. You’d heard of Johzenji, an up and coming band who had a wild energetic sound, and you’d listened to and liked some of their music in preparation for the festival, but you hadn’t actually looked up the band members themselves.

“The rest of the band is waiting,” Anabara told him, clear impatience in his voice as he gestured for the blond to follow, “The rest are all warming up, you need to be out there too.”

“Yeah, yeah keep your hair on,” Terushima told him with a smirk before turning to you, “Come on, I’ll get you all settled backstage, it’ll be the best seat in the house I promise.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” you told him, grip loosening on his hand in preparation to let go, acutely aware of the disapproving gaze of Anabara, who you assumed was a manager of some sort, boring into the side of your head.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” you told him hurriedly, as the smirk slipped off his face leaving something disbelieving and a little hurt in its place, one that tugged your heartstrings, which was surprising considering you’d only known him for an hour or two at most, “But you need to get going. Good luck with the set I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“W-wait!” he managed to catch your hand before you’d completely tugged free, his eyes, which in the light you could now see were a pretty cinnamon brown color, were pleading as he asked, “Please come back with me? I know I sprang this on you out of the blue, but I really felt a connection with you. After the set, we’ll clear things up, so just come watch me okay?”

The more rational part of you wanted to scoff. He was really laying it on thick, cheesy line after cheesy line. You’d found each other in a crowd, danced and made out for a bit, that was all. So maybe you’d felt a little something too, it was the reason you’d let him lead you away from the crowd, but that was just the music, the energy of the crowd right?

Your eyes flitted to where Anabara was standing, but Terushima apparently caught your intention and shifted his hand to block your view, the tattooed appendage coming up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, this thumb caressing your jaw, eyes boring into yours as he asked, “Please?”

Against your better judgement you found yourself nodding, almost hypnotized by the incredibly attractive man, whose every touch seemed to send tingles of electricity through your veins. The smile he offered you was another of those delighted boyish grins and you found yourself tugged along behind him again. To your surprise Anabara didn’t bother to protest, simply shaking his head, sighing and following along behind the two of you.

It was incredibly busy backstage as everyone hustled around in a kind of coordinated chaos as one band left the stage and Johzenji got ready to enter. True to his word Terushima found you a spot that would give you a good view of most of the stage, pressed a water bottle into your hands and a quick surprisingly sweet kiss to your lips before bounding off, though not before assuring you, wide smug grin back on his face, that you were in for the ride of your life.

You watched as he bounded over to people who had to be his bandmates, idly sipping at your water, and taking everything in. One of the guys immediately captured Terushima in a headlock, playfully wrestling around for a bit, the group tussling together, before a sharp word from a pretty girl holding a clipboard sent them all scurrying off to warm-up.

For someone so seemingly lighthearted, Terushima was surprisingly serious as he started to warm up, picking up his black bass guitar, the yellow and white tribal pattern on the body a clear imitation of the ink that bloomed over his fingers. His face was extremely concentrated as talented fingers plucked at the strings, dancing over the instrument with ease and familiarity. It was incredibly attractive, and you couldn’t help pressing your water to your neck, hoping it would help cool you down a bit and stop you from salivating.

You were slowly but surely acclimatizing to the fact that he was in a band, your shock wearing off and leaving the burning attraction you’d felt from the very first moment he’d put his hands on you in the crowd bubbling to the surface again.

“Impressive, isn’t he?” the words jolted you out of your enraptured staring at his fingers, and made you realize the pretty girl from before had come to stand next to you. She was still holding her clipboard, and her eyes weren’t on you, but on the band flitting between members, clearly checking in on them.

“I mean yes?” you said hesitantly, unsure why she’d decided to speak to you, and a little uncomfortable with the look on her face, which was set in a frown.

“So where’d he pick you up?” she asked sharply, clear disapproval in her eyes as she turned toward you, “The parking lot? Hanging around the trailers? Get caught sneaking back stage? Let me tell you something groupie, you’re not going to get anything else from Terushima or from Johzenji, so enjoy the show or whatever, but make sure you get lost after.”

“What?” you asked, baffled, but unwilling to allow yourself to be cowed in the face of her tirade as you snapped back, “As a matter of fact I was out in the audience minding my own business. I didn’t even know who Johzenji was before I got tickets to this music festival! I didn’t know who Terushima was until Anabara said something, he was the one who came up to dance with me not the other way around, so I suggest you back up with your assumptions.”

The girl looked surprised, brown eyes wide in her pretty face as you huffed out an annoyed sigh, your displeasure overtaking your more base urges once again as you questioned whether you should be there. A quick glance at Terushima showed he was still entirely focused on his warm-up, he didn’t look like he’d notice anything let alone you.

You didn’t belong here, and both Anabara and whoever this girl was had made it pretty clear you weren’t welcome either. It didn’t help that her words implied that Terushima brought girls back pretty often, so much for ‘feeling a connection’ it really had been the line it sounded like. You couldn’t help the slight bitterness of your thoughts as you wondered how many women he’d used it on before and feeling a bit stupid for falling for it.

If it looked like a duck, walked like a duck, and quacked like a duck, odds were it was a duck. Terushima looked like a stereotypical bad boy with an overinflated ego, swaggered like one, and even laid down stupid, misleading lines like one. While you’d technically only hoped to get a good lay out of this and nothing more, you did have standards.

That in mind you decided, no matter how good the music was or how exciting it had initially been to be back stage, it wasn’t worth it. Spinning on your heel you began to walk away, fully intent on writing it off as a bad night, and feeling more than a little bitter about how running into Terushima had decidedly ruined your night and your enjoyment of the festival.

“Where are you going?” the question was voiced by a familiar male voice, Anabara had apparently come up beside you some time while you were lost in your own head, making quiet plans to never support Johzenji ever again, “Surely Terushima told you not to wander around back here?”

“I’m leaving,” you informed him flatly, utterly fed up, “I wasn’t entirely comfortable coming back here in the first place, and now I’m even more uncomfortable, so if you could point me to the exit I’d appreciate it. Hell, you can even have security escort me to make sure I don’t do anything weird since you’re all apparently so paranoid about it, but I would very much like to never see you or anyone else involved with Johzenji ever again please and thank you.”

Anabara’s eyebrows, which had been settled in a disapproving frown, immediately flew upwards in shock, seemingly rendered speechless, though you weren’t sure if that was for your words or the rude tone you’d used. A part of you felt bad for it, but you were at the end of your rope, one make-out session and the promise of a night of good sex wasn’t worth all this drama no matter how talented he was with his tongue or the backstage pass he’d gotten you.

“You can’t leave,” the girl blurted out, hurriedly maneuvering in front of you and holding her arms out to seemingly block your path, “You have no idea what that will do to Terushima if he looks over and you’re not here! It’ll throw his entire performance off!”

“Weren’t you the one who just called me a groupie and implied I was some kind of whore he picked up in the parking lot?” you asked sarcastically, “Forgive me if I don’t give a shit.”

“Really Hana?” Anabara asked heaving a pained sigh at the girl, whose name was apparently Hana, “I understand not approving of Terushima’s habits, but this was neither the time nor the place, and she shouldn’t have been the one you brought it up to. It’s not her fault.”

You relaxed a bit at that, surprised but pleased, some of your anger seeping away. A lot of times women got blamed for men’s promiscuous behavior, when the man was the one to blame. You were glad to see it wasn’t actually like that here.

“You’re right,” Hana agreed, with a pained grimace before turning to you, “I apologize, I was rude. The last few women Terushima brought back either stole things, or decided to act crazy and possessive both with Terushima and with other band members. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s alright,” you assured her, even as your opinion of Terushima plummeted even further. If he had that kind of history no wonder she’d been so upset and on guard when she saw you. You would’ve been angry too if you had to deal with that, your anger with her leeching away, “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

“You have no idea,” she told you fervently, heaving a sigh before pleading, “Please, will you stay? It really will throw Terushima off if you’re not here, and while he might deserve that, the some of the other band members don’t, and the audience certainly doesn’t.”

You grimaced, a little unsure. While you didn’t feel nearly as angry or bitter as before you also still had standards. If you stayed it would imply you wanted to have sex with him, which at this point was pretty much off the table.

“If it helps, Terushima may be a player with terrible taste in women, but he won’t pressure you if you say no after,” Hana assured you, apparently reading your mind.

Thinking about it, and the respectful way he’d danced with you, and kissed you always courteous you found you agreed with what she said, and before you knew it found yourself agreeing to stay, much to Hana and Anabara’s visible relief.

Hana quickly guided you back to your spot, and much friendlier now, began to explain some of the things that were going on as the band got set up. She also named the members for you as she realized you’d told the truth and didn’t actually know who any of them were. You found yourself liking the kind, if stern girl a lot, and the way she was clearly a huge fan, both of the band and the music they made, had you hyped up right along with her, ready to see what they could do.

The energy between her and the crowd which were starting to slowly become more and more hyped up as it became clear the band was going to start, was absolutely electric, and you could feel yourself getting hyped up again.

Terushima, who’d seemed to be in his own little world the moment he’d picked up his instrument, finally glanced up as the lead singer, who you suspected was Hana’s boyfriend from the way she’d gushed about him earlier, tapped him on the shoulder clearly asking if he was ready.

Even from the distance you were at you could see the cockiness in Terushima’s smirk as someone plugged him into the amplifier. His fingers immediately moved over the strings, playing a dizzying array of notes and cords in quick succession, the sound loud enough to feel in your bones earning an immediate roar of approval from the audience, which somehow sounded even louder from the stage than it had been when you were standing with them.

Terushima gave the audience a tongue lolling grin flashing his piercing to them, his eyes cutting over to where you were standing with Hana. You raised an eyebrow at him finding yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself giving him a challenging smirk of your own and a ‘bring it on’ gesture clearly inviting him to give you this so called ‘ride of your life’ that he’d promised your before. He looked shocked for a second before a wide grin crossed his face, clearly accepting your challenge.

You watched a little enthralled, the way good music always made you feel as they started to play their set, your hips beginning to rock automatically to the sound of the bass. Up close you could see why Johzenji was shooting to the top, it was clear they were all talented and passionate about their music throwing themselves into it with everything they had.

However, despite wanting to look at the others your eyes seemed almost magnetized to Terushima, drawn back to him each and every time no matter what. It was clear he was having the time of his life, jumping all around the stage, flashing that pierced tongue, his dexterous fingers working over the strings of his instrument in a way that was utterly enthralling as a part of you wondered if his skill with his fingers might translate over to something a little more carnal.

It didn’t help that he kept glancing over at you, his gaze clearly a challenge daring you to try to look away from him. There was something hot and heavy in his eyes, something that told you the answer to your question was yes, and that he couldn’t wait to show you.

You could feel yourself getting almost unbearably hot in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the lights bleeding off the stage, or the summer night air, your body seemingly pulsing in time to the music and the notes of his bass guitar. The air practically electric, your skin hypersensitive as if you could feel the waves of sound on your skin.

You hadn’t realized their set was long enough that they were doing a fifteen minute intermission of sorts where band members would chat one by one with the audience, talking about their music and answering a few fan questions they’d gotten on their Tweeter account.

Thus you were entirely unprepared when Terushima set down his instrument and came bounding off stage. You barely had time to blink before he was on you, strong hands finding your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your jean shorts to grope your ass as he pulled you close.

His lips were on yours before you’d really had time to process, and you found yourself returning his kiss enthusiastically, unable to resist his magnetism and the electric feeling of his hands on you and his lips on yours. One of your hands tangled with his hair and you tugged it, not caring a bit about the sweat slicked strands, well aware you were equally sweaty, too enraptured by the heat between the two of you to care about a little sweat.

It was only when a loud cough broke through your lustful haze that you remembered that you weren’t supposed to be kissing Terushima at all. You quickly pulled away, kicking yourself, both for your loss of composure and for making a scene in front of all his bandmates outside the lead singer, who was the only one on stage at the moment, and Hana who was watching the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“So you’re the girl huh?” one of his bandmates asked, eying you with interest.

“Yes, she’s female,” Hana cut in, to your relief, “And you can gawk later, you have less than ten minutes to get yourselves refreshed so you can take over and Okudake can have his well-deserved break too.”

Terushima groaned, and while Hana’s stern look sent the others scrambling to obey, he was clearly more resistant as he refused to let go, clinging on to you in a way that almost would’ve been cute if you hadn’t cottoned on to what a womanizer he was.

“Well?” Hana demanded, hands on hips, “You heard me Terushima, get a move on.”

“Go on,” you urged, moving to extract yourself from his hold.

“No way!” he protested, turning betrayed eyes on you, his grip firming for just a minute before reluctantly starting to loosen, “You haven’t even told me how amazing I am yet.”

“I guess you’re not bad,” you told him with a casual shrug, unable to resist teasing even as the more rational part of you was screaming about how this was a terrible idea, and that you had no plans of having any sort of relationship with him sexual or not, so shouldn’t be flirting with him.

“Not bad?” He squawked, clearly outraged, “I’ll show you not bad little miss sexy, I told you I’m gonna rock your entire world.”

“You’re not going to be rocking anything if you collapse from dehydration hot stuff,” you informed him dryly, shoving at his chest until he let go, though he was clearly pouting about it, “Go. Water, snacks, refresh, move it.”

“You’re as cruel as Hana,” Terushima told you, sulkily, before plastering on another cocky smirk as he acquiesced, “But fine, I’ll do what you say, so long as you promise not to take your eyes off me for the second half of the set.”

“Sure, sure,” you agreed with a casual eye roll, unable to keep amusement from bleeding into your voice as you ushered him away. He went, though not without one last toe curling kiss and a quick grope of your ass.

“You’re really good with him,” Hana’s speculative voice distracted you from watching Terushima walk away, and you felt heat in your cheeks as you realized she’d caught you gawking at him.

“I uh….” You floundered, trying to find the words to defend yourself, especially when you’d been so adamant before about not having sex with Terushima.

“It’s okay you know,” she assured you, a strange look on her face that you couldn’t quite decipher, “You wouldn’t be the first to get swept up in his charisma, and no one could blame you for having a casual fling. I certainly can’t judge given my own relationship.”

She had a point. It was your body after all and one night couldn’t hurt, especially with the chemistry between the two of you, still you did have some concerns.

“He’s clean if you were wondering,” Hana informed you casually, apparently fully able to read your mind despite only knowing you for an hour or two at most, “Terushima’s always been a player, but he’s also always been meticulous about his health, and the reputation of the band. He may act like an irresponsible idiot when it comes to women, but the band means a lot to him.”

“He does seem really passionate about it,” you acknowledged, refusing to think about the heat in your cheeks or the way your eyes kept coming back to Terushima as he hurriedly gulped down his drink and horsed around a bit with the drummer before charging back out on stage to interact with the audience.

“The band means everything to all of them,” Hana told you, with a fond smile for Okudake who only paused for a moment to kiss her cheek before heading for refreshments, confirming your suspicions about their relationship, “It’s their dream.”

“I can see that,” you mused thoughtfully, watching as Terushima practically bounced around the stage like a child on a sugar high, hyping up the audience like none other.

“I think maybe I might’ve given you the wrong impression earlier,” she admitted, the words making you pull your attention away from Terushima and focus solely on her, “Terushima isn’t actually a bad guy, he’s just terrible when it comes to women he likes. Despite how he looks he can be an absolute sweetheart.”

“You know you’re going to confuse me with all this changing around you keep doing,” you teased lightly, “Before I thought you would rather I burn at the stake rather than have sex with Terushima and now it almost sounds like you’re encouraging me to go for it.”

“I didn’t know you earlier,” Hana dismissed, a flush in her cheeks, clearly a bit uncomfortable with your observation even as she tacked on, more to herself than to you, “And I’ve never seen him interact like that with a woman before.”

You didn’t get the chance to question her about it, or really process what she’d said as the band took that minute to start the music back up, and the audience gave a lively roar. Terushima gave you an almost too conspicuous wink and a cocky smirk before turning back to what he did best, tattooed fingers flying over the strings again.

Once more you got caught up in the beat, the rhythm of his bass as it hummed through your body, and the heated looks he threw your way whenever he got a spare second, clearly checking to make sure he had all of your attention. You lost yourself in it, you were here to enjoy the music, and like hell were you going to let anything, even your preoccupation with the sexy bass player, get in the way of that.

It seemed like the whole thing ended far too soon, as the last chords faded into the night, the roar of the crowd as the band gave their goodbyes almost deafening in conjunction with the fireworks going off overhead. The minute the lights were down, the band members quickly passed off their instruments as staff, including Hana, swarmed the stage, ready to begin tear down for the evening.

Johzenji had been the last band scheduled for the night, which meant everyone would be going home. The buzzing of your phone reminded you of your friend and a quick glance confirmed your earlier suspicions, that she was going home with one or both of her earlier dance partners. You sent a quick text back urging her to be safe, and hesitated for a long moment before finally telling her that you had your own hook-up for the night.

She congratulated you, and you grinned, amused and fond, sliding your phone back into your pocket and just in time as Terushima’s hands snagged you around the waist, pulling you close again. There was a delighted smile on his face, open and boyish that told you how incredibly pleased he was with himself and his performance, and looking at it you knew in that moment you’d lost the internal debate. No way were you going to be able to walk away, not when he was looking at you like that.

You could vaguely hear his bandmates wolf whistling at the two of you as you pulled him down to kiss, tangling your fingers in his sweaty hair, but ignored them entirely, too intent on the humming electricity between the two of you and his hot wet mouth, the feel of his piercing a sensation you were coming to adore as you flicked it with your tongue.

His hands were all over you, roaming your back and occasionally dipping lower to knead your ass, his firm chest pressed tightly against your own. You could feel his hard length, fully aroused and clearly more than ready for you, pressed firmly into you, the idea of it making your body clench with need, wetness soaking your panties.

“Oy, get a room,” Hana’s voice cut in, clear exasperation in every word, catching your attention as the two of you parted for breath, “No one wants to see that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Terushima told her casually, rolling his eyes a bit, though you shot her a sheepish look, earning an amused one in return, before being thoroughly distracted again by the sexy blond bass player as he released you just enough so that he could snag your hand, and you found yourself tugged along behind him for the second time that night as he told you, “Come on little miss sexy, let’s see if I can’t give you that ride I promised you.”

“Lead on then hot shot,” you told him with a laugh, only pausing to shoot a quick wave at Hana, who just shook her head in clear exasperation, though you thought there was something of a smile on her lips too.

This time you weren’t nearly so worried about following him, and weren’t too concerned when he led you back and away to a parking lot that was full of trailers with few if any people. Even without knowing him for too long you could tell which was his at a glance, considering the outside was covered in stylized graffiti that read Johzenji surrounded by tribal work.

It didn’t take him long to fumble the door open and lead you inside, and you were relieved to find that the interior was apparently nice enough for air conditioning. It wasn’t much, a queen sized bed, bathroom, and a couch with recording equipment and various instruments scattered everywhere, but it was better than you’d been expecting. Honestly you thought he might’ve shared space with the other members of his band, and were pleased to find it wasn’t true, mostly because you’d hate the idea of kicking someone out just so you could get laid.

You didn’t get much more time to think about it as you were immediately distracted by Terushima, who’d attached his mouth to your neck the second the door had been closed and locked behind the two of you, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive column of your throat. You let out a low moan as he nipped at your collarbone, fingers twisted in the fabric of his black tank, digging into the strong muscle of his back and shoulders.

A gasping moan escaped your lips as he sucked at your collarbone, his hot mouth like a brand against your skin in the almost too cool trailer. You slid your hands down his back, eager to get your hands on his skin, and to see more of the ink that adorned his body, slipping your hands under his tank and tugging upwards.

Terushima seemed to get the hint, giving you a smug look as he pulled away just enough for you to tug the damp fabric up and over his head. His torso was nicely toned, lean but firm with muscle, and adorned in black ink that crept downwards from his neck, covering his upper chest and shoulders, though you noted his abs were bare.

Your fingers automatically moved to touch, tracing the lines down from his neck, and over his shoulders, utterly fascinated. It was beautiful work, a mix of tribal and Japanese style work. He shivered slightly, though whether that was from your touch or from the cool air on his warm skin you couldn’t tell.

You probably could’ve spent hours exploring his tattoos, and would’ve except you got distracted by the glint of metal. Bright silver barbells glinted in each of his dusky colored nipples, catching all your attention, and sending a jolt of heat through you as you wondered if he had anything else pierced.

“Like what you see?” Terushima asked, his voice full of smug superiority as he brushed a teasing hand down his chest, a cocky smirk on his face.

A part of you really wanted to wipe that look off his face, and you thought you might know just how to do it. You hooked your fingers through the belt loops of Terushima’s jeans and tugged him forward by them, earning a delighted chuckle from the man before you reclaimed his mouth.

Your hands immediately went to his abdomen, gently scraping your nails over the ridges of his abs and earning a full body shudder from the man, who’d buried one of his talented hands in your hair, the other caressing your side.

The feel of muscle under your fingers as you skimmed your palms up his chest, letting his pebbled nipples catch on the webbing between your fingers, teasing the nubs gently between your fingers earning a low needy moan from Terushima, his hips thrusting into yours, reminding you how utterly hard he was and sending a burst of heat through you.

You pulled your lips away from his, earning a discontent whine from the man until he felt your lips on his throat. He tilted his head with a low groan, allowing you full access without protest, as you traced your lips over his tattoos. His skin tasted like salt from the sweat, but it wasn’t unpleasant, as he smelled clean beneath it, something warm and masculine that made your passage clench with want, and need.

Your hands roamed down his sides, and over his back, unable to keep yourself from touching him as you sucked and nipped at the junction of his neck, adoring the quiet moans and breathy gasps from his lips. His hand in your hair was gentle, not guiding or pushing simply allowing you to do as you pleased with him even as his fingers gently tugged, his grip occasionally tightening in a way you found extremely arousing whenever you nipped at him or found a particularly sensitive spot. You continued your exploration downward tracing a path down to his collarbone then lower across his pectorals and finally to your goal.

“Aw fuck,” Terushima whined as you pulled his pebbled nipple into your mouth sucking at the sensitive nub, swirling your tongue around it and playing with the metal piercing as your other hand found his other nipple, fingers toying with the matching barbell, unable to keep your hands away from it.

“Hng! You like those little miss sexy?” he teased, though he was breathless enough that it barely constituted teasing, “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me, should’ve known from the way you acted when you got my tongue piercing, but if you like that wait until you see my…”

He cut himself off with a whine as you teased him with your teeth, gently scraping them over the sensitive nub and tugging at it carefully as your other hand gently flicked and tugged at his piercing. You were a bit curious about what he’d been about to say, though you had a sneaking suspicion you’d find out when you got him completely naked.

Curious, you decided to stop playing with his piercings for now and began to kiss your way down his chest, bracing your hands on his sides so you could slowly lower yourself, tracing your thumbs over the sharp v of his hipbones as you traced his treasure trail to where his pants were sitting low on his hips.

You carefully scraped your teeth over the taught skin, kissing and suckling hard, well aware you were going to leave marks and not caring in the slightest that unlike the ones you’d undoubtedly left on his neck and chest, these were going to be much more visible due to his lack of tattoos there.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Terushima praised with a shudder as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide and lust written all over his face, a loud groan leaving his lips as you cupped his erection through his pants, teasingly stroking it through the material as you looked up at him, unable to help the smirk curling your lips at the sight of him, his lips puffy and swollen from kisses, hair damp and sticking to his forehead and beautiful inked skin glistening with perspiration.

Looking at him, you could see how he coaxed so many women into his bed, between his looks and his musical ability it was no wonder he was so cocky. Still despite how many people he’d been with before he was with you at the moment and you were going to make the most of it.

Your fingers deftly undid the button and zipper of his pants and you turned to look up at Terushima amused and a little shocked as you asked, “You go commando on stage?”

“What can I say,” he told you with a proud smirk, “I’m a rebel.”

You huffed out an amused laugh and ran a teasing finger up his shaft, gently stroking the underside his twitching cock which had left precum smeared inside his pants and his lower abdomen. Just as you’d suspected there were piercings here as well, a Jacob’s ladder of three separate barbells, right under the head.

The sight left your mouth watering, and you licked your lips, fully intent on blowing his mind, and playing with those lovely piercings, but when you went to lean forward you were stopped by the grip he still had on your hair.

“Something the matter?” you asked, genuinely concerned as your hands stroked at his strongly muscled thighs, the gesture meant to be soothing as you peered up at him and asked, “Do you not want me to suck your cock hot shot?”

“There is nothing more that I want right now than to have that sexy mouth of yours all over me,” he told you, the low rasp of his voice and his lust darkened gaze utterly convincing, “But I said I was going to give you the ride of your life little miss sexy and I intend to follow through on it.”

“Oh?” you asked teasingly, thumbs tracing over the sensitive place where his thighs met his hips, “You think you can?”

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” he told you with a cocky smirk, one that fell away into a full body shudder as you leaned forward, grasping his leaking cock at the base and running your tongue teasingly along the underside.

“I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re in for,” you told him, with a smirk of your own as you stroked your hand upward and used your thumb to tease the sensitive place where the barbells passed through the skin right under the head earning a low moan.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, as he recovered, a grin on his face that was boyish and reckless, “But I won’t know until I try.”

Amused and intrigued you let him go and allowed him to pull you to your feet and reclaim your mouth with his, reminding you just how skilled he was with his tongue as he kicked off his pants, shoes and socks and began to talk you slowly backwards towards the bed. He proved to be either extremely coordinated or practiced or both as he managed to coax you out of almost all of your clothes except your soaked panties by the time the back of your knees hit the bed.

You let yourself fall backwards, plopping on to the surprisingly comfortable mattress, and smiling into Terushima’s kiss unable to pull yourself away, thoroughly distracted by his talented mouth and the warm hands that were skimming up and down your sides, thumbs occasionally teasingly skimming the undersides of your breasts.

You held him to you, his face cradled in your hands as he crouched over you, one knee braced on the bed, and the other still planted on the floor as his hands dipped lower, finding the waistband of your panties, and teasing his fingers along the edge.

“What are you waiting for,” you teased between kisses, “A written invitation?”

“Only your permission little miss sexy,” he teased right back with a smug grin, hooking his fingers through the elastic and giving a gentle tug.

Something about his tattooed fingers in contrast with the pretty lace panties you’d decided to wear was extremely hot and sent a surge of lust through you, as you lifted your hips and watched as he peeled the sodden lace away from your soaked core.

As they fell away his hands came back up to your thighs, and you couldn’t look away from the contrast of his darkly inked hands, adorned with several silver rings glinting against your smooth thighs.

You didn’t protest as he gently pushed them open, revealing how utterly soaked you were, instead leaning back on your elbows and spreading them further to give him a better view.

“Fuck,” he hissed eyes riveted on your most intimate parts as if he was unable to look away, his pierced tongue darting out to wet his lips, and his eyes dark with desire, “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself hot shot,” you countered even as his words and the hungry look on his face sent a surge of heat through you.

“I’m gonna eat you out so good you’re going to be screaming my name,” he promised, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he started to drop to his knees.

“Ah-ah,” you scolded, pulling yourself away, scooting backwards on the bed and away from him.

“You don’t want it?” he asked, looking a cross between shocked and a toddler who’d been denied his favorite treat.

“The only way you get your face between these thighs is if I get that lovely pierced cock in my mouth,” you informed him challengingly, holding out your hand to him in a clear gesture to come join you on the bed.

His face immediately lit up, a wicked grin on his face as he agreed, “Sounds like a fair deal to me sexy lady.”

It took him less than a second to join you on the bed, and he agreeably laid back for you, hands folded behind his head, body on clear display without an inch of shame, the smirk on his face telling you he was well aware how hot he looked spread out like that, all pale skin, dark ink, and silver piercings, he practically oozed bad boy sex appeal.

“Got your seat all ready for you,” he goaded, tapping his lips and wiggling that pierced tongue at you enticingly.

You laughed in helpless amusement, earning a tongue lolling grin in turn from the sexy bass player, who was clearly unbothered and supremely confident in a way you couldn’t help but find incredibly attractive.

He coaxed you up , letting you straddle his face, his head propped up on the pillows to make things easier, his face pressed into your thigh, nipping and suckling at the sensitive skin as you got yourself settled and being thoroughly distracting, though not for long as you wrapped a hand around the base of his weeping cock, the head drooling precum.

He let out a muffled groan as you slowly began to stroke him, licking your hand to help ease your passage as you stroked him, soothing your thumb over the place where the barbells passed through his skin with ever stroke and teasing your fingers along the head, massaging the weeping slit teasingly with your index finger.

Terushima didn’t let you completely take control though, and the first swipe of his tongue made you jolt in surprise, the feel of that little piercing completely foreign as the smooth ball dragged across your sodden folds. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, and you had the strangest feeling he might actually fulfill his promise of giving you the ride of a lifetime, as he dove in eagerly.

He lapped and sucked at the lips of your cunt, the slurping noises he was making utterly obscene as he held your hips firmly in place, keeping you still as he ate you out with enthusiasm and a skill you had to admit he was right to be proud of. Every stroke of his tongue lit your nerves on fire as he teased it around your clit, lightly flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and varying up his strokes and the pressure with every swipe, enough to make your thighs tremble and to make you grateful you weren’t attempting to stand or you were sure your knees would’ve given out.

You weren’t about to let him take over entirely though, instead lowering your mouth to his cock and beginning to tease the weeping slit with your tongue as you continued to stroke him, flicking each of the barbell heads in turn and sucking at the sensitive ridge around the head.

The low moan he let out as you popped the head into your mouth and began to suck sent immediate vibrations to your drenched pussy, making you moan in turn, the feeling of it indescribable as he lapped at your folds sucking at the sensitive lips and thrusting his tongue into your weeping hole.

The feel of his piercings grazing against the roof of your mouth was a new one, but not unpleasant as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, stroking what you couldn’t reach with one hand the other tracing light teasing circles with your thumb on his inner thigh.

Skilled fingers parted your lower lips as his tongue teased your clit, slipping one finger then two into your hole, making your walls flutter and clench around the intrusion. You moaned as he proved to be just as skilled with his fingers as you’d wondered earlier when you saw him playing his instrument, playing you just as skillfully with the perfect pressure, and movement to hit just right as he crooked his fingers into the soft tissue at the front of your passage that instantly had you seeing stars your whole body convulsing in his hold.

You completely lost track of what you were meant to be doing as you keened, his fingers refusing to let up as he continued to tease them in and out of your rippling passage, his tongue equally relentless. You weren’t sure if you were squirming to move towards him or further away as he carefully eased you back from your orgasm, though not letting you go completely, keeping you right on the edge of pleasure, your body hot and aching in his hold.

Once you managed to come back to your senses you could practically feel the smugness radiating off him as he continued to tease, startlingly considerate of your oversensitive clit, just enough stimulation to keep you worked up without being to painful.

You weren’t about to let him be too smug, instead turning back to what you were doing before, working him over, allowing your saliva to drool down over his cock to make the passage of your hand easier as you stroked him at the base.

Your other hand left his thigh and instead went to his balls, cupping and weighing the sensitive sack in your hand, gently massaging it earning an almost pained groan from Terushima, whose thighs you could see were clenched tightly, his muscles rippling under your torso as his body tightened in pleasure, his balls drawing upward in your hand letting you know how close he was getting.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, sexy I…!” he tried to interject, clearly attempting to warn you, surprisingly courteous as ever. He didn’t get a chance to finish though as you released his balls and slipped your hand lower, teasing your fingers lightly over his perineum as you sucked hard at his sensitive head, your thumb pressed firmly to his piercings in a move that made him keen with pleasure, his body practically arching off the bed as he came in your mouth.

You quickly swallowed every bit you could as you milked his cock rubbing and massaging at the glans as he continued to come, until you felt the last tiny spurt against your tongue, and the keening sounds he was making reduced to trembling whimpers.

You released him and wriggled away from his weakened grip so you could look at him, swiping some of the cum that had leaked from the corners of your mouth away with your thumb, and earning a low moan from Terushima, who watched with heavy lidded eyes as you licked it off.

“Fuck, you’re really asking for it little miss sexy,” he told you, his voice pitched low as he sat up, wiping his own glistening cheeks and chin, which were covered with your release on the back of his arm.

“Asking for what hot stuff?” you teased with a pleased smirk, one that was wiped off your face as he coiled and sprung, gently knocking into you so you pitched backwards on to the bed, his hands pinning your wrists on either side of your head as he peered down at you, his eyes burning with desire.

“Asking for me to make you scream my name,” he assured you with a smirk, “To fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“You think you can Terushima?” you goaded, completely unphased at being pinned beneath him.

“Yuuji,” he informed you seriously nuzzling his face into your neck in a gesture that was surprisingly affectionate, though the wicked grin you could feel against your skin most certainly wasn’t as he clarified, “Call me Yuuji, little miss sexy, it’s only right for you to scream my first name.”

“Give me all you’ve got then hot stuff,” you challenged, earning a delighted smirk from the man, who pulled back to give you another searing kiss, clearly uncaring about the taste of himself in your mouth or sharing your own release with you.

Given how often he seemingly brought women home you weren’t at all surprised that he had a huge stash of condoms in the drawer of the nightstand of the bed, in all different textures and some in different flavors that made you highly amused. Though you didn’t stay that way for long as he expertly slid the condom on and approached, gently tugging you toward him and pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as he teased the head of his cock over your dripping entrance.

The feel of him as he entered you had your head lolling backwards, the angle he’d chosen ensuring he went deep, the feel of his piercings, that you could feel even through the condom, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

“Like that?” he teased as he seated himself deep inside you, his voice breathless but still teasing as he demanded, “Like the feel of my cock inside you sexy? You’re so fucking tight I can feel you squeezing me.”

“Fuck me, hot shot,” you ordered clenching around him deliberately, impatient after all his teasing, wanting to feel him move inside you, to know how his piercings would feel as they rubbed against your inner walls, as he fucked you.

“You asked for it,” he warned you, as he gave a sharp thrust of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips.

He didn’t bother to let you adjust more than that, drilling into you, setting a hard, fast past that left you gasping for breath, his cock stretching you deliciously, every movement rubbing his piercings along your insides. His tattooed fingers dug into your thigh as he held your leg over his shoulder.

“Feel so good, squeezing around me like that, you’re so fucking tight around my cock and so wet for me,” he praised, panting for breath as his dark gaze practically drilled into you, as he ground his hips into you, letting you feel every inch of him.

You hummed in agreement, your other leg wrapping around his hips, pulling him in close as your hips moved in time with his as you panted, your hands twisted in the comforter beside your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him, the ripple of muscle underneath his inked tattoos and the drops of sweat as they dripped down his neck and chest were utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, “Fuck me!”

He paused in his movements slowly grinding himself into you making an inadvertent whine slip from your lips as he scolded, “I told you to call me Yuuji, let me hear you say my name.”

You might’ve chosen to deny him, but he’d dipped his other hand down, skilled fingers gently teasing your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that had your walls fluttering around the hard cock buried to the hilt inside you. Pride warred with pleasure as your pussy ached, desperately wanting him to move again, to give you more of the heady friction and the feel of him moving deep inside you.

“Yuuji,” you relented your voice husky with desire and want, though you weren’t about to give in entirely, instead stretching your hand out for him and ordering, “Come here, Yuuji, kiss me.”

He immediately relented, leaning forward, taking your leg with him, your thigh pressed to your chest, his hips beginning to drive into you again so deep it took your breath away as he braced an elbow beside your head, the other cupping your face and holding you still so he could press his mouth to yours.

You moaned into his mouth wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you clung to him, savoring the feel of his hot skin beneath your hands as your fingers dug into the muscle of his back.

“Ah fuck,” Terushima hissed as he pulled away from your mouth, arching into your hands, his hips jolting hard as you dug your nails into his back. You would’ve felt sorry about it, but the look in his eyes told you clearly that he’d enjoyed the little bit of pain, his hips stuttering as you carefully raked them downwards.

“Do you like that Yuuji?” you purred into his ear, nipping at his jaw.

“Not as much as you like this,” he countered, utterly breathless as he thrust into you hard, the feel of it making you mewl in pleasure, “Like it rough, don’t you little miss sexy?”

“Just as much as you,” you managed to retort, utterly breathless, earning a huffed laugh from him, as he leaned forward to catch your lips in another sloppy kiss.

The lewd sound of your hips as they met, breathless moans and quiet swearing filled the air between you as Terushima worked his hips deep into you, his free hand slipping between the two of you to tease your clit again, as you yanked on his hair, unafraid now to be a little more rough with him the way he was with you, his teeth sinking into your neck in retaliation, earning a yelping moan from you.

“Yuuji, Yuuji,” you gasped, feeling yourself pushed towards your peak, the coil in your belly pulling tight as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, clinging to him for all you were worth.

“Fuck yes,” he panted, his voice a low rasp, clear strain in every word eyes locked on yours, “Give it to me sexy, let me see you come on my cock.”

You did as he asked your walls clamping down hard on him, a gasping cry pulled from your lips as he buried his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own end, clearly right on the edge himself. He gave a shuddering, moaning gasp into your ear as he came, his cock throbbing inside you and prolonging your own release.

For several long moments the two of you lay locked together, your hands absently stroking his hair as he rested nearly the entirety of his weight on you, the two of you desperately attempting to catch your breath.

Eventually he pressed a thankful kiss to your cheek, a surprisingly affectionate gesture before rolling off, quickly disposing of the condom in the small trash can by the bed, one no doubt specifically for that purpose.

You were a little surprised when right after taking care of it he immediately rolled back over to you, slinging a hot arm around your waist and pulling you close. You’d had one night stands who liked to cuddle a bit in the afterglow, and were feeling pretty good yourself, so you didn’t mind a bit, letting him pull you close and stroke his hand up and down your back.

Neither of you said anything, simply basking in comfortable silence and each other’s presence. However, after a few moments you noted his breath had evened out and his hand had stilled. Carefully propping yourself up on your elbow you noted with some amusement that he’d passed out.

It was understandable, frankly after how high energy the concert had been it was a little shocking that he’d had enough energy afterwards for this. A part of you wondered what he’d be like when he had a bit more energy to devote to things, after all this had been one of if not the best one night stand you’d ever had and definitely in your top ten for sex. However, you quickly shook that thought away.

You spent several moments trying to decide if you wanted to let your own eyes shut and doze off for a while, but in the end decided to carefully extract yourself from his grip, figuring it was less awkward to sneak off now than to potentially be kicked out by Terushima, or worse Hana or Anabara in the morning.

It took a second to find your clothes, and in the end you didn’t bother with your panties, instead dropping the garment into the same trash he’d used to dispose of the condom, before slipping on the rest of your clothes. A quick glance around proved you hadn’t forgotten anything and you took one last glance at Terushima, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed.

You felt strangely bittersweet about leaving him, as you’d actually liked him, far more than you’d expected. Still, you weren’t stupid, and with everything you’d heard and seen from him you knew you were just one girl in a never ending parade of girls who’d grace his bed. Quietly you slipped out of the trailer, letting the door close softly behind you so you wouldn’t wake him.

It had gotten cooler since you’d been outside last, a nice breeze springing up that raised goosebumps on your exposed skin. It felt nice, and with the moon full and bright overhead you weren’t worried about losing your way as you quietly made your way back towards the concert venue, knowing you’d be able to find your car fairly easily from there.

“Where are you headed off to?” a quiet voice asked, the suddenness of it nearly making you jump out of your skin.

You whirled around, heart racing in your chest, only to find the leader of Terushima’s band Okudake holding his hands up in clear surrender, an apologetic look on his face. You let out a relieved breath clutching a hand over your still racing heart, glad to see it was someone you knew, if only vaguely.

“Sorry about that,” he told you sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him, “I just didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with a wry chuckle, “But where are you off to? It isn’t safe for a young lady to be out by herself this late.”

“I’m uh, heading back to my car,” you confessed sheepishly, wondering if he knew he sounded like your parent.

“Terushima should’ve at least walked you,” he told you with a disapproving frown, “he’s usually more courteous than this.”

“It’s alright,” you hurriedly assured him, feeling more than a bit awkward as you admitted, “He’s asleep.”

“Ah,” he told you, the single word letting you know that he knew exactly what you were doing, sneaking off without confrontation, though he didn’t comment, instead offering, “Then at least let me walk you? I’ll feel better knowing you aren’t alone.”

“Ah sure,” you agreed, a little baffled but touched by his kindness.

“So what did you think of the show?” he asked casually as the two of you made your way toward the stage.

“It was amazing,” you assured him with a grin, utterly sincere, “the energy was off the charts and the songs were all incredible.”

“You didn’t think there were too many songs about love and heartbreak?” he asked, watching you from the corner of his eye. He clearly read the startled expression on you face because he quickly explained, “We’ve been told we have too many songs about it considering the genre of our group is more rock and our image is harder.”

“I don’t think so,” you assured him, you hadn’t really noticed before but now that he said it you did remember a lot of songs about heartbreak, “I think heartbreak is a pretty universal feeling, so there’s nothing wrong with having lots of songs about it. It’s not something that should be limited to things like genre.”

“I agree,” he told you with a firm nod, “Though I think it would be nice to sing about happiness in love once in a while.”

“So why don’t you?” you asked curious, wondering if this was another issue with love and happiness being the opposite of the more hardcore image they presented.

“Terushima is our main song writer,” he explained, surprising you quite a bit, “And he refuses to write from anything but his own experiences.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he hastily assured you, “We’re grateful to have him. Before Terushima we were a little Podunk band that was going absolutely nowhere. He’s a big reason why Johzenji is getting so popular, even if he does have his difficult moments at heart he’s a good guy that has done a lot for us.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked slowly, feeling a little bit like you were being led into a trap and wondering if you were about to be attacked the way Hana had snapped at you earlier.

“Because Hana told me what happened earlier and I think she might’ve given you the wrong impression,” he explained sheepishly, “Don’t get me wrong, I love her, and she’s an amazing woman but she and Terushima have never quite seen eye to eye.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned utterly baffled about where he was trying to take this.

“I mean from the outside looking in I bet it does look like Terushima’s a player, the last kind of guy you’d ever want to have any sort of relationship with, the kind who only wants women around for a night,” he told you, heaving a sigh and staring up at the night sky, “But it isn’t true at all.”

“Terushima just falls in love far too easily,” he continued, clearly seeing the skeptical expression on your face, “He feels connections with people, latches on, and doesn’t want to let go. Other than the women who’ve snuck out, not a single woman has ever left his bed without his phone number even the ones who really shouldn’t have gotten it.”

“So what he’s a closet romantic?” you asked unable to help the slight sarcasm in your tone, biting back against the pointed comment about you sneaking out without letting Terushima know.

“Something like that,” Okudake agreed, completely unbothered by the bite in your voice, “But more importantly I wanted you to know he likes you, genuinely.”

“If he’s such a romantic, then why doesn’t he have a partner already?” you pointed out, your head unwilling to believe him, even as your heart desperately wanted to.

“Mostly because he has abysmal taste in women,” Okudake informed you bluntly.

“Thanks,” you drawled, sarcastically.

“No,” he hastily assured you, clearly a little flustered, “Normally Terushima only chooses women who want to use him for something or another, either because of his fame or his looks. Hana was rude to you earlier, but she did have good reason to be suspicious of any woman Terushima brought backstage as they’ve been pretty trashy pretty much every single time.”

“But Hana likes you this time,” he charged on, clearly determined to get it all out, “And she’s always had good taste. I think the two of you could be good together if you wanted to give it a shot, and it would be nice to have Terushima write something that isn’t about heartbreak for once.”

“So what you want me to put a leash on your bass player?” you asked skeptically.

“No, I’m telling you he likes you, not just as a one night stand, but as a potential partner, so you know the option is there,” he explained patiently, “And because I think you like him too.”

His words stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to snap at him, demand to know how he could just assume that as he couldn’t have seen you with Terushima for more than five minutes max. However you also knew he was right, you did like Terushima, a lot, you’d felt a connection to him too, and you really hadn’t wanted to leave. You’d just assumed he’d kick you out if you didn’t.

Now though his bandmate was saying something entirely different, insisting that Terushima was looking for more than a one night stand. The question was, did you believe him and if you did was it worth trying.

You stared at the sky hoping it could give you some kind of answer as Okudake watched and waited patiently. Thinking about it, all you could see was his face, the flash of cocky smirk, the sweet boyish grin, and the intensity in his eyes when he looked at you. He was flirty and confident and surprisingly respectful and sweet and your sexual compatibility was off the charts.

The more you thought about it the more you realized you were more than a bit infatuated with him. The only question now was what you were going to do about it. The thought of walking away now made your heart ache, and you’d never been a coward, so you heaved a breath, turned to Okudake and asked, “Can you take me back to Terushima’s trailer?”

The lead singer smiled kindly at you, and thankfully didn’t comment, simply turned around and led the way, wishing you a quiet but genuine good luck, and inviting you to have breakfast with the band in the morning.

Slipping into the trailer, you’d half planned to simply slip back into bed with Terushima, who you fully expected to find conked out on the bed. Instead you found him sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, fingers buried in his blond hair, defeat and despondency in every line of his body. A part of you had kind of doubted what Okudake had said before, but looking at him now you thought maybe he’d been telling the truth after all.

The sound of the door as it clicked closed behind you made Terushima’s head jolt up, an utterly miserable expression on his face until his eyes focused on you, misery quickly replaced with befuddled awe, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing in front of him.

“Hey, hot shot,” you greeted softly, unsure what to say, but needing to break the silence.

“Hey,” he returned, attempting to give you a cocky smirk, though the expression fell flat, “You forget something?”

“Can I come in?” you asked, gently, relieved when he gestured for you to help yourself.

You quickly slid your sandals off and made your way to the bed, not bothering to sit on it, but instead sinking to your knees in front of him, earning a surprised look. You reached for his hands and he gave them easily, twining his fingers through yours.

“So a little birdie told me I might’ve made some assumptions about you that I shouldn’t have,” you admitted, peering into his face.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, watching you carefully, “What kind of assumptions?”

“Like maybe you weren’t just looking to hook-up with a stranger for a one night stand tonight,” you confessed, feeling a bit anxious but doing your best to hide it, “Like maybe you weren’t trying to use ridiculous lines one me and maybe you really did feel a connection.”

“Is that why you ditched me before I could even ask for your number?” he asked with a huff of that was probably supposed to be a laugh but sounded surprisingly painful, “Because you thought I was looking for another notch in my belt?”

“Yeah,” you admitted guiltily, heart squeezing in your chest.

“It’s my fault,” he confessed tiredly, “I should know better by now than to jump right into bed with the people who catch my attention, but I thought if I could show you how good we could be, then you might want to stick around. Stupid huh?”

“I could’ve talked to you too,” you consoled then gently teased, “The sex was pretty good though.”

“What are you saying, it was fucking mind-blowing,” he smirked, regaining some of his cocky demeanor.

“Eh, I’ve had better,” you told him, earning a surprisingly cute pout from the bass player.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stick around for a while, so I can show you what I can really do,” he proposed casually, though you could see the tentative hope in his eyes.

“I guess I’d better,” you agreed with a grin, “Though on one condition.”

“Name it,” he agreed eagerly.

“I want a proper date,” you told him, “And your phone number.”

“That’s two conditions little miss sexy,” he teased, his eyes alight with desire and a surprising amount of affection, “But I suppose I can agree if you call me by my name again and agree to be my girlfriend.”

“It’s a deal Yuuji,” you agreed, leaning up to press an affectionate kiss to his lips, one he accepted eagerly, you pulled away before the two of you could get carried away grinning at him like an idiot, well aware that he really should be asleep.

It took a bit, but the two of you managed to get settled into bed together again after you re-shed your clothes, cuddled up close, with Terushima laying half on top of you claiming it was so you couldn’t run off on him again. You’d huffed, but allowed it, enjoying the proximity and his warmth.

He was quick to doze off again, face pressed into your neck, and you found yourself drifting too, contemplating just how lucky you were to have found him, and looking forward to what the future might bring.

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[yellowsuitcase]

Prophecy Problems // Draco Malfoy

Request from @lovecatsnotpeople

A/N: For this imagine, please pretend Hermione becomes the Minister of Magic much sooner than 2019, lol.

Summary: Draco is Y/N’s boss and she comes to him after she makes a mistake. He gets angry.

Warning(s): SMUT, Unprotected sex, choking, rough sex, slight voyeurism (but not really)

Word Count: 4k

Y/N walked through the hallways of the Ministry with guilt sitting heavy in her gut. She knew her boss would be angry at her, there was no doubt about it. To say she had fucked up was an understatement. Since she was the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, she had done her daily rounds that morning. However, when she was leaving, she noticed a new prophecy waiting to be placed on an open stand. Disaster struck when she picked it up and read the name on the tag. She was so unprepared to see that name on the paper and thus dropped the orb. When the sound of it shattering reached her ears, Y/N knew she was done for. The silvery smoke circled around her feet and then was reduced to white ashes. Once she processed what she had done, she sprinted out of the hall quicker than she ever thought possible of herself.

And now Y/N stood outside her boss’s door. It looked more daunting than ever. She adjusted her brown suede skirt, clenched her hands, and inhaled deeply. Slowly, she raised her fist and knocked on the wooden door. “Come in,” said a firm voice. 

Y/N turned the door handle and stepped one foot into the room, but before she was entirely through the archway, her eye caught sight of the plaque on the wall. Draco Malfoy, Head of the Department of Mysteries. Her heart began to pound. She’d only been in this office a handful of times, despite wishing she could visit more often. It was a spacious room filled with white and black decor. The walls were a stark white, making the black picture frames and tapestries stand out. To her left were a coat hanger and stand-alone closet. In the back corner sat a tall plant in a silver pot; it had orange flowers sprouting from it. The floor was covered with the same stone from the hallway, but there was a large emerald rug with intricate details in this office. And in the center of the room was Draco, sitting at his desk. It was littered with parchment as well as empty chocolate frog boxes. The man himself was tossing a green apple up into the air and letting it fall back into his hand. He looked to be in a good mood. He caught the apple in his firm grasp, the veins in his hand becoming visible, and set it down on the cedar desk. He looked up at her with interest in his eyes. But that soon faded when he noticed the remorseful look upon her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he said curiously. “What brings you to my office?” he asked as Y/N closed the door behind her; she still hadn’t made eye contact with him. She was already terrified of what his reaction to her news would be, and it didn’t help that he was quite possibly the most attractive man in the building. “Well, you’re my boss, so I have to report to you if something ever goes wrong,” she replied, cutting to the chase. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Has something gone awry?” he questioned while gesturing to the leather-clad chair in front of him. Y/N gulped, stepped forward. She scanned Draco up and down while still avoiding eye contact. He looked particularly striking today. His hair was perfectly styled. The wispy bangs on his forehead appeared soft. He was wearing a long black jacket as well as a button-up paired with a green tie. The chandelier in his office provided perfect lighting; his skin was almost glowing. His legs were spread to provide support for his elbows. Y/N couldn’t help but steal a glance at his bulge, wondering if the rumors were true about Draco’s size. Of course, she couldn’t tell just by looking. She felt ashamed of herself and averted her eyes as she took a reluctant seat.

“I’m afraid so,” she answered once she was settled. She then began to pick at some loose thread on the seams of the chair, her nerves getting the best of her.

“Quit picking. You’ll pull out the entire stitching,” Draco ordered sternly. Y/N’s hand immediately released the thread and found a new place on top of her lap. She was growing more anxious by the second, and Draco’s irritation was increasing. Y/N gulped before finally making eye contact with the man. He was looking at her intently, expectantly almost. His hands were clasped underneath his chin as he stared at her. Y/N decided to spit it out.

“I was doing my rounds this morning, and there was a new prophecy, and I accidentally dropped it, and it broke,” she said quickly, her words mushing together. Draco smiled at her and separated his hands. “That’s not the end of the world, Y/N, you know that,” he assured. “Whose was it? We’ll send them an owl to inform them of the accident,” he said as he sat up in his chair. It was clear Draco didn’t understand the gravity of the situation as he picked up the apple again and took a bite out of it. Y/N took a deep breath before responding. “It was Hermione Granger’s.”

Draco stopped moving, a stoic expression fell over his face. Y/N watched as his eyes grew dark. He stood up from his chair, walked over to the bin, spat out his food, and tossed the apple in with it. Y/N looked down, feeling sick to her stomach. She heard him coming towards her. His feet came into view; they were right in front of hers. “Stand up,” he commanded. Y/N gripped the arms of the chair and hoisted herself to a standing position. She stared intently at the smudge on her glossy black flats as fear began to stir in her chest. “Look at me,” Draco said quietly. Y/N didn’t move an inch; she was too afraid. 

“You’re telling me you dropped the Minister’s prophecy? Is that correct?” Draco asked. Y/N could feel his breath on her face; she nodded solemnly. “You do realize I’ll have to take the blame for your fuck up, don’t you?” he asked, his tone sharp. “She’ll be angry, hell, she’s hardly forgiven me for our time at Hogwarts, she’s not going to be happy to hear her prophecy was smashed to smithereens, is she Y/N?” Draco asked condescendingly; he was raising his voice now. Y/N shook her head. 

“That’s what I thought,” he snapped. He stormed over to his desk and ran his hands through his hair. Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her, and she spared a glance up at him. He was positively fuming; she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam bursting from his ears. 

Draco breathed heavily as he shuffled through papers on his desk. “Fuck!” he yelled, making Y/N jump. The man reached for his neck, roughly loosened his tie, and yanked it over his head. Y/N felt her skin turn hot; she averted her eyes back to the floor. “Bloody hell, Y/N. If I lose my job for this, you’re coming down with me,” he shouted. Y/N flinched at his words. Suddenly, his hand was on her face, her heart stopped. 

“Look at me,” Draco growled as he forced her chin upwards. His face was tight, and his teeth were bared. Even though fear coursed through Y/N’s veins, she couldn’t resist a peek at his tempting lips. Draco tightened his grip on her jaw. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve seen you looking at me.” Y/N held her breath. She stared into Draco’s eyes, where once they held anger, they now held lust. “Every day in the hallways, I see you. I see you looking me up and down. I notice how your eyes linger, Y/N,” Draco said as he began trailing his hand down her face and onto her neck. He applied light pressure, just enough to send a pleasant buzz through her body. 

“Frankly, I find it flattering, almost endearing. But, darling, let me ask you this…” Draco trailed off. His left hand remained around Y/N’s neck while his right traveled to the small of her back. She breathed heavily as he began to trace small circles on the fabric of her skirt. Suddenly, he pressed his palm flat against her. Y/N felt herself growing lightheaded with desire. Draco chuckled lightly and pushed her hips forward, firmly pinning her against him. Y/N started to gasp, but Draco tightened his grip on her neck, cutting off her airflow. He smiled down at her as she squirmed.

“Are you sure that this is something you want?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. Draco cocked his head, prompting her to answer. She was unable to speak, so she gingerly nodded her head. Draco smirked. “Is that so?” his face turned dark, “then prove it,” he whispered. He released his hold on her neck, and Y/N jumped into action, smashing her lips against his. Draco smiled into the kiss and slipped his tongue inside Y/N’s mouth, where he gently began to swirl it around hers. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as Draco then began to suck on her tongue. Y/N pressed her thighs together and felt her wetness growing.

Draco pulled away to look at the woman in front of him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her white shirt had been drawn up, revealing her stomach. Draco put his hands on her cheeks and pulled her close to kiss her swollen lips. He nibbled on her upper lip before pushing away and spinning Y/N around so that her butt was pressed against the front of his desk. He smirked at her before crouching down to his knees. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Draco pushed her shirt farther up her torso. He sensed Y/N’s eyes on him but paid her no mind. Swiftly, he took out his wand and cast a quick, locking spell on the door. He turned back to Y/N and gently kissed her stomach while simultaneously gripping her thighs underneath her skirt, preventing her from rubbing her thighs together like she had been doing previously. 

“Draco,” she mewled. The man pulled away from her immediately and glared up at her. Even though she was looking down on him, his next words still made her falter. “Call me, sir,” he whispered. Y/N shuddered as she felt his breath fan over her stomach. Draco kissed her again, this time taking some of her skin into his mouth, biting and sucking softly. When he released her, there was a red mark beginning to form next to her bellybutton. Draco kept a firm grip on her thighs as he pressed a kiss to her lower abdomen through her skirt. It had a little corset in the front instead of a zipper or button. He considered untying it but figured it would be more fun to have her keep it on. He removed his hands from her thighs and grabbed the hem of her skirt, lifting it over his head. He was now facing her crotch. Y/N was breathing fast above him; he could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind.

Draco hovered his mouth over her inner thighs, teasing her. She attempted to close her legs, trying to create friction, but his hands flew to her knees and gripped them tightly. He then pressed his mouth to her clothed pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. He slowly began to lick her through her underwear, making it even damper than it already was. He could tell she was getting impatient because of the way she was pushing her hips upwards, so he took the fabric in between his teeth and yanked it down, revealing her pussy to him. Draco pursed his lips and blew air directly onto her clit. Y/N whined and tried to buck her hips, but Draco’s firm grip kept her pinned to the desk. “Stay still,” he ordered before sticking out his tongue and dragging it down her slit.

Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a cry from escaping her. She never thought in a million years she’d be in this position. But there she was, pressed against her boss’s desk and being eaten out by him. His tongue was thrusting in and out of her entrance slowly, steadily. It was making Y/N dizzy. She desperately wanted him to get on with it and slip himself inside her. Alas, Y/N knew Draco. She knew that anything that happened between them would only occur according to his terms. Y/N had no control in Draco’s grasp; that was obvious. And while that aroused her, it also frustrated her to no end. 

Draco continued flicking his tongue within her, but then he added his thumb into the equation. With it, he began to rub her clit, drawing out a long moan from Y/N, whose fingers were squeezing the edge of the desk. She felt her legs begin to tremble, the weight of her body was getting to be too much, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up much longer. Despite the burning in her calves, Y/N held herself still as she felt her climax approaching. “Please, sir,” she pleaded. Draco’s tongue began to speed up while his thumb maintained a consistent pace. The contrast between slow rubbing and fast thrusting brought Y/N to the edge. She clenched her walls and prepared for orgasm, but it never came. At the last second, Draco lifted his thumb off her clit and retracted his tongue, leaving her empty.

Laughing, Draco pulled himself out from under her skirt. He pushed off his knees and stood up, looking into Y/N’s eyes. “Did you really think I’d let you cum?” he asked, an amused look on his face. Y/N stared at him silently; she couldn’t think about anything besides the intense throbbing between her legs. “Lemme let you in on a little secret, darling,” he said while putting his large hand on her neck and pulling her close, “The only time you’re allowed to cum is when you’re wrapped around my cock and begging for it. Understood?” he growled in her ear. His words had a physical effect on Y/N’s body; she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, feeling his hand against her throat. 

“Louder,” he demanded. Y/N swallowed thickly before repeating herself. “Yes, sir, I understand.” Draco tightened his hold on her neck and then abruptly let go. He pushed her to the side and laid his hands on his desk, swiftly brushing off all the papers onto the floor, not caring about the mess. Y/N didn’t waste a moment; she kicked her underwear off her feet and rushed to the end of the desk. Putting her hands on top of it, she jumped up and laid down. Draco cocked an eyebrow; he looked pleasantly surprised by her actions.

“Somebody’s eager,” Draco mused. Y/N let out a whine and arched her back. She wanted him badly. Draco tutted and walked around the desk, where he positioned himself between her legs. He locked eyes with Y/N and maintained contact with her as he took the bottom of her skirt and lifted it up, exposing her bare pussy to the air. Y/N couldn’t help but moan. She was the most aroused she’d ever been in her life. Draco extended his index finger and gently slid it inside her. With his opposite hand, he held her hips down, already anticipating that he’d have to if he didn’t want her to squirm. 

Y/N, with her legs spread and waist held down, was rendered helpless to Draco’s touch. All she could do was moan as he inserted another finger and slowly thrust into her. In between thrusts, he spread his fingers and began to stretch her out. “Sir…” Y/N called quietly. Draco hummed. “What is it, princess?” he asked. 

“I need you,” she replied, feeling Draco insert yet another finger. Y/N clenched down on his digits inside her. When he gave her a particularly hard thrust, she whimpered. Then he grabbed her chin roughly. He held her face in his hand and put his thumb over her lips. She instinctively took it into her mouth and began to suck. Draco smiled and said, “I’m gentle now, but don’t worry darling, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Y/N groaned and felt a blush rise to her cheeks, painting them red. Draco let go of her face and continued to slide his fingers in and out of her, making sure to go slow. Y/N waited a few more minutes before saying, “Sir, please, I’m ready.” 

“Are you now?” Draco asked, still stretching his fingers within her. Y/N whined and wriggled on the desk, feeling her frustration grow. He wasn’t listening to her. “Yes,” she retorted, letting her annoyance be known through her tone. She gasped when she felt a sharp slap land on her inner thigh. “You’re ready when I say you’re ready,” Draco growled. Y/N gulped and remained silent, letting Draco put a fourth finger inside her. He thrust hard and spread his fingers; the drag of his digits against her walls sent sparks through her body. She could feel her wetness begin to drip, and she felt as though she was going insane with need.

Finally, Draco removed his fingers. He smirked at Y/N as he began to unbutton his pants. She watched as he pushed down his underwear, and his dick sprung free. He rubbed it a few times and aligned the tip with her entrance. Y/N held her breath and bit her lip as he slammed his hips forward, filling her to the hilt. She was hardly able to breathe in as he immediately began to pull out and force himself back in. He set a harsh pace; the desk was shaking underneath them. “Fuck! Don’t stop,” she begged. 

Draco grunted and gripped her hips, pulling them towards him so that they met his with each thrust. Y/N reached for something, anything to hold onto; she needed to ground herself. Draco seemed to take notice of her panic. He let go over her hips, grabbed her thighs, and brought them to his waist. Y/N got the hint and wrapped her legs around his middle, bringing the pair even closer, allowing Draco to pound her even harder. Y/N nearly screamed when he found a deeper spot within her. She noticed Draco had repositioned his hands. They were now pressed to the desk on either side of her head. Y/N reached up and gripped his forearms. This was a mistake. She watched as a vexed expression formed on Draco’s face. In a swift and aggressive motion, he turned his arms out, forcing Y/N to let go of him, and when her hands were in the air, he seized her wrists, pinning them to the desk. Y/N felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Unknowingly, she clenched down on his cock, making him laugh. He peered at her with a prideful look on his face. “Did you like that, Y/N? Does pinning you to the desk make you wet, hmm?” he cooed tauntingly. Draco stared at her expectantly. When she didn’t reply, he slowed his speed.

Y/N whimpered and jutted her hips, trying to urge him to resume his brutal pace. Draco shook his head. “Answer me, darling, maybe then I’ll make you cum.” Y/N closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. God, he was too much. “Come on, princess, who makes you this soaked? Tell me,” he commanded. Y/N desperately needed to reach her high, so she told him what he wanted to hear. “You, sir.” 

“Who?” Draco asked again while slamming his hips into her.

Y/N gasped and cried out, “You sir, you make me wet!” Draco smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he grunted. To Y/N’s delight, he began to increase his pace. His face was close to hers; she could feel his breath on her face. Then he hit it, her g-spot. Once the head of his cock touched it, she screamed, letting Draco know he’d found it. He released her wrist and instead wrapped his fingers around her neck, forcing her to look at him. Y/N couldn't move her head as he slammed into her, hitting that spot repeatedly. She felt her climax approaching but was unable to warn Draco. All she could do was take it.

But Draco was perceptive; he knew Y/N was nearing her high. “You gonna cum on my cock, darling? Go on then, cum,” he said. And with that, she was pushed over the edge, crying out as she fell. The world seemed to stop spinning; all Y/N could feel was the electricity running through her body. Every one of her muscles was tense as she endured the waves of pleasure. Draco was nearing his end as well. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, and within thirty seconds, he was releasing inside her. His body jerked with pleasure as his cum filled Y/N’s hot pussy. Draco groaned and let his body fall on top of the woman underneath him. 

The pair panted heavily as they came down from their orgasms. When Y/N felt strong enough, she raised a shaky hand to Draco’s face and stroked it softly. He kissed her hand while opening his eyes. “That was incredible,” Y/N breathed, still reeling from what just happened. Draco chuckled lightly. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said. 

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Y/N felt her blood run cold; she looked at Draco, terror on her face. Her boss, however, looked more relaxed than a sleeping baby. “Just a moment,” he called out. Swiftly, he pushed himself off Y/N, reached under her arms, and picked her up. He walked them over to his chair and sat down, the impact forcing his cock deep inside her. Draco then took out his wand and wordlessly summoned the papers back to the top of his desk. “Come in,” he said calmly as he unlocked the door.

Y/N felt her heart drop. She was sitting on Draco Malfoy’s lap, his dick still inside of her, and he just told whoever is outside his door to come in. As quickly as she could, Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make it appear as though they had not just had rough intercourse. Just as she was pulling down her shirt, the door opened, and Y/N slapped a soft smile onto her face. When she saw who stood in the doorway, she felt bile rise in her throat. There stood Hermione Granger, the current Minister of Magic. 

“Hey Malfoy, I was just stopping by to tell you that - oh! Y/N, I-I didn’t know you were here,” Hermione stuttered. Despite her apparent confusion, she didn’t ask why Y/N was on Draco’s lap. “Well, anyway, it’s good you’re both here. I was informed that a prophecy came in today with my name on it. Did you see it, Y/N?” she asked. Y/N gulped and nodded. “I did.” Hermione smiled. “Oh good, well, then you must know where it is, right?” she inquired. Draco gripped her waist, but Y/N ignored her boss and answered Hermione. “I do. Why do you ask?” she questioned with a fake smile on her lips. 

“Well, it turns out that it’s not actually my prophecy. See, the Seer was actually talking about someone named Helga Graingle. Apparently, she’s a rather old witch. Or I suppose, was, is the better term. She passed away early this morning,” Hermione told the pair. Draco cleared his throat. “How unfortunate,” he replied. Y/N nodded, “That’s horrible. She didn’t even get to hear her prophecy.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s a shame. But anyway, I just wanted to let you know about the mix-up. I’ll be on my way now…” she trailed off as her eyes flickered to Y/N’s hips. Obviously, something was up, but the Minister said nothing; she simply nodded her head and slinked out the door, shutting it behind her.

Once she was gone, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Merlin,” she muttered. Draco pressed his lips to her neck. “Got lucky, didn’t you, princess?” he taunted. Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed him away lightly. “Shut up, Malfoy.” Draco chuckled and squeezed his arms around her waist. Y/N felt her heart stutter, the things this man did to her.

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

To Our Beloved Tartaglia

Summary: A story on how two people say i love you without saying it.

A/N: Fluff for today’s birthday boy! I’m buying him a cake and celebrating his birthday! Implied sex at the end.

--

The freezing temperature of Dragonspine was one you’ve grown to find as a minor inconvenience. Though you do enjoy playing in its place and exploring it for treasures, you’ve never grown to like it. It was just a tourist destination in your humble opinion. Not that anyone who knew you agreed, even Paimon had wondered if you were quite alright in your brain.

Of course, correlation breeds attachment and from the moment you heard Tartaglia offhandedly mention how Dragonspine was like Snezhnaya in its freezing temperature, you’ve dedicated a time in the day to spend time in it to ensure that your body would not be shocked when it finally lands in Snezhnaya. If anyone noticed how you’ve silently grown fond of the place, you’d deny to your dying breath that it had to do with Tartaglia.

Not even Kaeya’s impressive boob window would be able to make you admit your growing intentions to tie down the volatile Harbinger to your side through marriage. There were some things you wanted to keep close to your chest, and this was one of them.

It stood to reason then that you would have kept your sudden desire to perfect the art of cocktail mixing or to be more honest, perfecting Blue Lagoon. Your sudden daily appearance in Cat’s Tail had been the talk of Mondstadt, it grew large enough that even the Traveler and Paimon had dropped by.

“Paimon wonders why you would work here just to practice your bartending skills?” Paimon had asked after being served a non-alcoholic drink.

“I wanted to make a drink for Childe with the fire water he gifted me on my birthday” You revealed as you finished the Long Island and gave it to the Traveler, “On the house.”

You winked at them.

“Huh? Why would you even want to do that?”

You smiled and didn’t answer Paimon, opting to give her food to distract her. On the side, the Traveler gave you a knowing look but you merely signaled them to keep it a secret. 

--

“I really hate the taste of fire water but it does its job in the cold. I don’t know why you’d want something like this, comrade...but if it makes you happy-”

“Since you hate the taste of it, give me enough time to make a drink suitable for you.”

“Hahaha! There’s no need to go that far, I’ve drank this when I was just a year in the Fatui!”

“Then I’ll give you a drink just for you as Tartaglia.”

--

When you saw his letter today, you couldn’t help but feel the bubbling emotion in your heart. Excitement rushed through your veins as you ignored the rest of the letters addressed to you to read his letter. You sat in front of your house’s door step, smile on your face as you read his letter.

You couldn’t help but imagine the whine in his tone, you lamented that the two of you couldn’t have bumped into him at Dragonspine but your travels took you far and wide through Teyvat. The chances of meeting him by chance were low, so you resigned on buying information of his whereabouts.

Nothing substantial, just sightings of him if only to fake a chance meeting but it didn't happen so far. The two of you were always on the opposite ends of Teyvat that you had half a mind that Celestia itself was sabotaging your love life. Your heart felt elated at knowing he was fondly remembering the time you had spent with each other, as well as the sparring sessions that always seemed like on the verge of something more.

When your eyes read the final words on his letter, you couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken.

“A special day?” You muttered to yourself, your mind quickly churning as you hastily went inside your rented home in Mondstadt and quickly rushed towards your room to grab your room to change your clothes. You had thought he was in Snezhnaya so you had already sent his gift earlier, timing it so that it would arrive today but if his letter was to be understood, it meant that he was in Liyue today.

‘If I use the waypoints, I can get there quickly and spend the day with him!’ You thought as you began to meticulously fix yourself. You wanted to show him the best sides of you today.

Your clothes were meticulously picked, the outfit would pose no hazards during a battle while at the same time accentuating your figure and increasing your charm. You wanted to be prepared on the off chance Tartaglia wanted to have a spar, but if he wanted to go on a date,

“Then I’ll be prepared as well!” You giggled as you finished checking yourself out and began to apply light waterproof make-up. Your lips were glossed and purposely drawn to capture his attention on how kissable it was.

You sprayed a soft floral perfume before winking at the mirror and making your way to the nearest warp point and teleporting yourself in Liyue. 

You landed softly in front of the teleport waypoint in Feiyun Slope. The effort you spent on yourself was noticeable, the mid-morning populace of Liyue took a couple of glances at you. Anyone could tell that you were about to go on a date, eyes followed you as you happily walked towards the Northland Bank.

“Good morning, Vlad!”

“O-oh! Good morning! Are you here for Lord Tartaglia?” Vlad asked you, blushing after being caught mid-yawn.

“Yeah, I was hoping he was around here” You replied, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your haste.

Vlad grinned, it was no secret to the employees of the Northland Bank that you and Lord Tartaglia frequently went out together. As far as they were concerned, marriage was a foregone conclusion between the two of you.

“Of course! Just head straight to the second floor! Lord Tartaglia is still in his office around this time!” 

“Thanks! I heard Nadia’s into crab tofu this days~” You happily helped Vlad to further his relationship with Nadia.

Each step that you took made your smile brighter, your head was full of thoughts about him. Wondering if he had gotten stronger, was he eating well, did he get new scars, had he visited his family recently, was he taking good care of himself. All of this went through your head as you headed to his office but most of all you thought,

‘Did you think of me as much as I thought of you?’

Your heart was bursting at the seams and you couldn’t wait to be reunited with him. Your footsteps slowed as you reached the door to his office, you could hear the soft muffled sounds of scribbling behind the door. You stood in front of it, debating, thinking, on the words you wanted to say to him.

You hesitated, wondering if the words on his letter were just politeness and not a reflection of his true feelings towards you. You lingered in front of the door, listening to the sounds inside the room, and wondered if you could cross the line today. You thought of the package that had surely already arrived in Snezhnaya, before your thoughts could even spiral further down the road, the door opened and in front of you stood Tartaglia.

Somehow, against your will, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Your traitorous body revealing your heart right in front of him without any regard for your reservations.

“Tartaglia!” 

And when he smiled back, eyes soft as if the mere mention of his name had not revealed your fondness of him, you felt yourself fall in love with him again.

Your name felt safe in his mouth, treasured, and when he pulled you close and held you in a tight embrace, you prayed that he wouldn’t hear the quick and rapid pump of your heart nor would he realize how easily you melted in his embrace.

“You came! I didn’t really expect you to come so quickly!” His tone was bashful, pleased, and a little bit shy and it made you even softer for him.

“Neither did I! I was hoping you were here since I’ve never been to your home in Morepesok before…” You trailed off, feeling shy.

He laughed softly, “If you keep that up, I might just really think you’ve missed me so much!”

“I did miss you” You admitted with soft eyes as you watched his face slowly turn red.

“Comrade…” Tartaglia averted his eyes, the back of his covering half of his face, “I’m no match for you today.”

You chuckled softly, “Mhm. Before that let me greet you first.”

He looked at you and you wondered what sort of face you were making right now. You sincerely hoped it wasn’t weird or ugly.

“I’m listening.”

“Tartaglia, Happy birthday” You stepped closer to his personal space, hands on his chest as you tiptoed and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve actually sent your gift to Morepesok but since you’re here...today I’ll give myself to you.”

Tartaglia blushed as he grasped your hands and with unconcealed anticipation replied, “How bold! I can’t believe you’re saying that in broad daylight!”

“What’s bold about it?” You asked him “I’m willing to do anything you want today as your present since your real one is in Snezhnaya.”

“Oh.”

You frowned at his reaction, “I-I can change it to something else! Do you want new weapons?” You worried that you had disappointed him with your stand-in gift.

“No!” 

He coughed upon realizing his reaction and hastened to explain himself, “I mean, I’m glad to have you today! You can’t change it to something else!”

You felt relieved at his words. Tartaglia continued speaking, “I want to go on a date with you today, eat your cooking for lunch, and then spar in the afternoon, and we finish this at my room.”

“As you wish!”

--

In the morning, after Tartaglia had finished signing and writing the documents for the Fatui, the two of you ate breakfast at Wanmin Restaurant. His skills in using chopsticks were marginally better but it still took him many attempts before he could eat a couple of bites.

It was cute. It was endearing. And you were so so in love that you didn’t mind picking up the crystal shrimp and feeding it to him. 

“C’mon now, don’t be shy” You told him when his mouth remained close and you could see the hesitation in his eyes “You’ll need all the energy for our fight later.”

You locked eyes with him as he ate from your chopsticks, seeing up close how long his lashes were, the slight curl on its end and the fascinating blue of his eyes. You wondered if Tartaglia could see how much you loved him, if your eyes betrayed the depth of your affection for him. But as soon as he removed his mouth from the chopsticks, crystal shrimp gone, the moment had ended and you ate from your bowl of Universal Peace.

When you saw him swallow, you immediately reached for the Squirrel Fish and took a piece of it, offered it to him and Tartaglia ate. Had it anyone else you wouldn’t have bothered but as always, Tartaglia managed to be the exception and you didn’t mind.

After eating, the two of you walked along Liyue Harbor, browsing shops and buying him small trinkets to bring back home. You visited the blacksmith to commission him a new bow, one designed to further improve his skills at the bow. You would pick it up later in the day, and Tartaglia dragged you to watch opera. The two of you sat close, closer than usual and the butterflies in your stomach never settled down. His hand never left yours and you wondered what sort of picture the two of you painted in the eyes of Liyue’s populace.

You couldn’t help but wish that you could keep on celebrating his birthdays with him from now on.

By the time the play ended it was past lunch time, so the two you went to the market stalls and bought ingredients for a late lunch before heading back to his apartment. Tartaglia helped as you made his longevity noodles, telling him the story behind it from a time before Rex Lapis’.

“I guess, you must really like me that much if you’re giving me this to eat!”

“Well, since we met in the middle of my life, I wanted to make sure that we’d have a lot of time to spend together to make up for it” You teased him even if it was the truth.

You didn’t know what the future held for both of you but you wanted to be part of his life longer than the time you weren’t in it. In his kitchen, you served him the noodles, every part of it made with love and well-wishes for his life and you hoped that there would be more years to come that you could spend it this way.

‘I wonder if you could tell how much I love you with each bite you take?’

When all was said and done, when the two of you had gone through all of his wishes, you both sat at the pavilion in the Dwelling in the Clouds, stargazing and observing Celestia. Between the two of you were two glasses filled with Blue Lagoon.

“You know, I never thought that you’d really make a drink with Fire Water that I’d like” Tartaglia said, his gaze far away “Say, do you do this for others too?”

“I don’t” You confessed, your face felt like it was on fire, you had never been comfortable speaking out your love unless it was hidden behind a joke or said in a playful careless manner.

A moment later, Tartaglia’s movement had you looking at him, drinking in the rare sight of his gentle smile, a genuine one that carried only what you dared to hope was fondness for you.

“If you keep this up, looking at me like that, I might really get my hopes up” His voice was soft and gentle as his face came closer to yours.

“Say comrade, if I kissed you right now what would you do?”

Before you could even think of a reply his lips were on yours and you were pushed down the bench, glasses strewn aside as Tartaglia’s tongue entered your open mouth and kissed you deeply. Your arms embraced his neck as the two of you kissed passionately, drowning in each other in gentle passionate bliss above the clouds. His hand lingered on your thigh, squeezing and caressing it as he applied pressure on your crotch and creating a friction that had you arching your body close.

When the two of you came up for air, you looked so debauched that Tartaglia almost couldn’t help but devour you right then. The flush on your cheeks, the dazed look in your eyes and your glistening red lips that had been a temptation to him all day created a picture that would always linger in his mind.

“If I asked you to give yourself to me…” Tartaglia’s hand traveled down your inner thigh, getting closer to the sides of your crotch “would you?”

“...yes” You covered your eyes, if only to hide your embarrassment.

His soft laughter had you peeking back at him.

“Thank you”

His lips were back on yours and made no move to stop him as his hands went under your clothes, playing with your body as if he had spent time thinking on how to elicit moans from your mouth. He was gentle but purposeful in his acts as your clothes were removed piece by piece and discarded into a pile on the floor.

You bit your hand as he took you apart again and again, plunging you into a passionate love affair that had you crying for his name and tasting the sweetness of his love with each kiss. It felt sacrilegious to have done such an act in a place owned by the Adepti but each bite, each kiss, had your heart pounding in excitement.

You loved him as ardently as the fires of Natlan, as deep as the waters of Liyue’s seas, you loved him with all of your heart and every fiber of your being. What bliss it was to experience this love that made you feel human, that the mere mention of his name could bring a smile on your face.

How wonderful it was to be in his arms right now, enjoying the bliss of being loved and loved in return. With your hands clasped together with his, your heart filled to the seams, you spoke,

“I’m glad to have met you.”

--

When Tartaglia had left that letter on your doorstep,  he had stood in front of it for a long while. Wondering what you would say if he was the first thing you saw in the morning. Would you greet him with a happy birthday? Or would you scream in fright? His thoughts went on and on as he merely stood there thinking upon dozens of scenarios if only for you to be the first one to wish him a happy birthday.

He wanted to tell you that his days were no longer the same without you by his side, that the mundane everyday life no longer felt exciting when you weren’t there to experience it with him. He wanted to tell you how he always wanted you to just show up whenever your informants inquired about him.

He had entertained the thought that you would one day show up in his workplace, food in hand and his name on your lips but he knew that you were the type to stick to your duties, and really he couldn't fault you for that when he was the same. But sometimes, the selfish and childish part of him wanted you to throw away everything for him.

Just for a while, just for a moment, if only to have something to look back upon when all was said and done.

So when he had seen you standing before him, eyes bright and looking at him like he was your most cherished person, he couldn’t help the happiness that was bursting at the seams. And now that you were in his arms, on his lap with your head on his chest, he couldn’t help but kiss you again and again. Making up for lost time, for all of those moments when he could have breached the line and made a move but didn’t.

“Stay with me” He offered, asked even when he knew that it was impossible right now. Not when either of your allegiance could go against each other any time, you with the Adventurer’s guild and him with the Fatui.

“One day” you promised.

And that was enough for him. It gave him hope that both of you would make it out alive. It gave him something to look forward to when his time with the Harbingers had come to an end.

[shatouto]

@obiwanobi allowed me to write a sequel to this lovely raised-as-sith!anakin and jedi!obi-wan fic!! pls enjoy this tiny little 1.3k of hurt/comfort

content warning: description of injuries

capable de deux

The standard clock strikes half past midnight.

Obi-Wan sets the basin on the floor. The man who is no longer Vader sits against the wall like a broken doll, one arm bent in a sickening angle, hands lying palm-up and unclenched between half-crossed legs. He’s not uncooperative, just limp, when Obi-Wan lifts his hands or turns his shoulder to remove the broken armor pieces. He’s not unresponsive, just lackluster, when Obi-Wan decides that the clothes are too mangled to salvage anyway and announces it to him in a murmur. He’s not unfeeling, just very, very quiet. Worryingly quiet.

In the shadow of Anakin’s silence, the only light that comes through is his eyes. Obi-Wan feels Anakin’s gaze like a physical thing, following his every movement in weary wariness as the scissors slowly snips their way along the seams. It’s borderline suffocating, how the air is so thoroughly silent that Obi-Wan can hear exactly how shallow Anakin’s breathing is. He sets all of the blood-soaked scrap fabric aside and dips a cloth in lukewarm water. He meets Anakin’s eyes, before wiping a streak down his front.

Anakin’s body is littered with scars; if there is a patch of unmarred skin left amidst the glossy criss-crossing, it would be dark with bruises. So many scars for someone so young, Obi-Wan catches himself thinking, frowning deeply - because Anakin is young, younger now than any other time Obi-Wan has glimpsed him outside of his distinct helmet. Young enough to be a Padawan, even, had the Jedi found him before the Sith. Obi-Wan sighs.

A deep cauterized gash runs from the tip of Anakin’s shoulder to the middle of his chest, and a fresh burn spreads from his heart to diaphragm, all of which Obi-Wan quickly covers with bacta patches before cleaning the rest. The blaster shot wounds are a more pressing concern, as they are still bleeding. He bites his lip in commiseration, nearly holding his breath as he cleans the too-tender flesh as gently as he can. His lineage does not have a gift for the art of healing, and Anakin’s shields are still rammed up high and tight, so Obi-Wan opts to monitor Anakin’s reactions for any sign of sudden pain.

Anakin doesn’t make a single sound. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. If it isn’t for his breathing sometimes hitching, Obi-Wan would have thought that Anakin is entirely numb - which would have been worrying. Whenever he glances up to Anakin’s face, their gazes touch; Anakin’s eyes train on his face rather on his moving hands, not alert, but not aimless either.

Water darkens in the basin. Obi-Wan has changed it for a third time, and is on his second washcloth. There is so much blood it’s a miracle that Anakin has made it this far, has dragged himself into the Jedi Temple without getting caught. Obi-Wan works his way down to the slippery patch on Anakin’s thigh, which turns out to be a wound that he can’t - and doesn’t want to - even begin to guess the cause: Raw burnt flesh just ripe for infection on the edge of a gaping cavity still oozing blood.

He whispers an apology as he has done for every touch, dabbing the cloth at the least damaged edge of the wound. This is by far the nastiest wound he’s seen, and Obi-Wan raises his gaze, worried that this might be where Anakin breaks.

Anakin doesn’t.

And somehow it’s even more disquieting.

“You can’t feel it?” Obi-Wan breaks the silence.

Anakin finally blinks at him. Even the confusion is better than the utterly blank look he has been sporting.

Obi-Wan breathes a sigh of relief, short-lived though it is. “Your injuries?” He specifies.

Anakin cocks his head a bit - almost cute, Obi-Wan thinks in passing - but then says in a voice devoid of emotions whatsoever. “It’s not that bad.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. “Anakin, there is blood and bruises everywhere on you and I think your arm is badly broken. Can you even feel it?”

Anakin shrugs with his unhurt shoulder. “No.”

“You can’t—” Cold dread bursts in Obi-Wan’s chest like a sheet of ice shattering. He places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Anakin, you need to see a healer! Why did you let me—”

“No, I mean”—Anakin straightens up minutely—“I can’t feel it because it’s not there anymore. It’s just a mechno-arm. Dooku cut my real arm years ago.”

“…Dooku.” Obi-Wan stares at him, voice flat. “Dooku, the other Sith, who’s supposed to be your ally. He cut your arm.”

Anakin makes a vague sound of affirmation, and falls silent, letting Obi-Wan struggle to form a reply to that. Now it’s his turn to look at Anakin in the face, while those now-blue eyes turn towards the ground, lashes so long they cast shadows of their own.

“Don’t call a healer,” Anakin finally mumbles, not looking at him. “I don’t want healers. I don’t want… people. I don’t like anyone touching me.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s eyes widen, realizing that he still has his left hand on Anakin’s shoulder, while his right rests just over Anakin’s knee, still clutching the washcloth. He makes to pull away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Anakin’s hand flashes up in sudden, unexpected liveliness, immediately squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder. His eyelashes quivers.

“You’re not ‘anyone’.”

—

The entire living room smells like bacta with a hint of blood by the time Obi-Wan is done. He locks Vader’s lightsaber with its buzzing red crystal in a drawer, and wraps away the broken prosthetic and ruined armor and shreds of clothing; it’s not safe enough to discard them conventionally, and he will have to burn them later, ideally somewhere unfrequented. Right now, there is no way Obi-Wan can leave his quarters. Not with Anakin limping out of bed at the sound of a fresher door sliding open or shut.

By all rights Anakin should have passed out from lightheaded exhaustion by now, yet he seems even more awake now than even when Obi-Wan first found him on his knees in the hallway. Anakin pauses at the sight of him and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He fixes Obi-Wan with the gaze of a Loth-wolf.

Obi-Wan lets out a sigh, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He takes a seat beside the former Sith. “Anakin,” he enunciates each syllable in a lingering rhythm, “could you please stop watching me like this?”

Anakin blinks at him; so far, Anakin seems capable of two states of being: desperate, and confused. “What do you mean?” He looks deceivingly innocent, covered in bandages and wrapped in Obi-Wan’s colors - a thought that Obi-Wan, startled, quickly shuts down. “I’ve always looked at you like this.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth hangs open, his mind running the sentence through. Always? Since before? And then it occurs to him that Vader wore the helmet along with his full suit of armor every time they clashed in battle. The few rare times they crossed paths outside of combat were all hair-thin ceasefires, too tense, too charged with fragile hope for him to notice. It dawns on Obi-Wan that Anakin has no concept of what is an appropriate amount of looking, of staring at someone.

“...Should I not?” Anakin ducks his head a little, and reaches for Obi-Wan’s hand.

By Force, this is a man who demanded surrender from Jedi only to open fire on them, who killed hundreds with just his hands and a lightsaber, who led operations that burn cities of civilians, who scorched the earth of whole planets and poisoned whole systems. This is a man who has done enough evil to make the core of a kyber mountain shudder. He has no rights looking like this, lamb-like in both colors and manners.

But could a child weaned on blood and brought up on broken bones know any better?

“Go to bed, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, in a tone distinctly reminiscent of that which he used with a younger Ahsoka in her rebellious day. (Not that she has gotten any less rebellious; she only moved on to matters more significant than bedtime.) He squeezes Anakin’s hand, and eases him down onto the pillow, and watches Anakin until Anakin can’t watch him back anymore.

And like all infants who fall asleep with a hand in their own, Anakin holds on tight.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist Here

AO3 Link Here

‘Hello, Miya-san? Yes, please don’t worry, Shino-chan is fine, just that your husband hasn’t come to pick her up?’ the nervous childcare assistant murmurs her apologies as she hangs up, ready to dial Atsumu to chew him out for yet another display of his bloody lack of responsibility. But it’s no use because Atsumu’s number is engaged, and after five minutes, she gives it up as a lost cause and after a moment’s hesitation, dials the other number most used on her phone. 

‘Samu – I’m so sorry to trouble you, could you…? Yes – Atsumu forgot to pick her up again. I’m sorry – I’m at work so I can’t just step out… Thanks ‘Samu – I owe you again’. 

She sighs, leaning her head against the cubicle wall in her office toilet. Then she squares her shoulders before heading back to her cubicle, preparing to tackle the stack of work on her desk until office hours end.  

She picks Shino up from Onigiri Miya later that night, promising treats to her daughter to persuade her to give up her perch from Osamu’s neck. 

‘He’s an ass’, he tells her, voice heavy with sympathy, and she lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. 

‘Yes, you’ve told me that’, she responds with a tired smile. ‘Maybe I should’ve listened’. 

He pats her back, and she departs with Shino in hand.

A storm blows into the city from the sea, so she shutters the windows and locks the doors, but the house still shakes from the blitz of thunder and lightning. She rocks Shino to bed, and sings her to sleep amidst the gale wailing outside their walls. 

She can hear the jangle of keys and opens the front door to let Atsumu in. He ignores her baleful glare and shoulders his way in, dripping rainwater all over the floor. 

‘Well?’ she demands, hackles rising at his sullen silence. ‘Would you like to explain how you managed to forget to pick up your daughter from childcare today?’ 

‘It just slipped my mind, alright?!’, he replies, face arranged into a sneer, and with a few strides he’s already halfway to their room, back turned against her. ‘You don’t need to make a big fuss about everything all the time’, he says, his hand on the doorknob. 

‘Atsumu!’ she snaps, her fists clenched by her side. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to keep bothering Osamu to help clean up your messes? Could you dig deep and grow the fuck up so you can act like a decent husband and father for once? I wish I listened to Osamu when he warned me about you, even before we started going out’.

He whirls around and grabs her wrist in a painful grip, a blaze growing in his eyes. ‘All I ever hear from you these days is  Osamu this,  Osamu that. If goddamned Osamu is so fucking perfect, why didn’t you just marry him when you had the chance? It would’ve been easy enough to pass Shino off as his, aren’t I right?’ 

‘Maybe I should’ve - then I wouldn’t be in such a state’, she snarls, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. ‘But my fate was sealed the moment I was stupid enough to fall in love with you instead.’ 

He snorts through his nose, the sound bitter, twisted. ‘Well, the feeling ain’t mutual, darlin’. Who said I ever loved you?’ 

She reels back from the force of his words, the bruises on her wrist nothing  compared to those in her heart. His eyes widen in shock – but he does not take his words back. 

The rain turns the apartment freezing cold and she shudders, fighting the urge to shrink into herself, counting the seconds in the strained stillness between them before stepping tentatively towards him to cup his face in her hands. 

‘What’s with you, Atsumu?’ she asks, more gently this time. ‘This isn’t like you.’

Her words break his silence, and he sinks onto the couch with a groan, dropping his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been offered a chance to play in Italy for a year, and MSBY’s agreed to let me go for a season. I just haven’t told you yet’, he finally says, shoulders hunched. 

‘Are you going to accept it?’ She manages to ask, a lump of ice lodging itself at the back of her throat, choking the airflow to her lungs. 

He nods mutely, and a storm erupts in her heart.  

‘Gods, Atsumu. Does it mean nothing to you that you have a wife and child now? Couldn’t you have talked to me first before making such a move? You know I can’t just up and leave Japan with my job and Shino. Are you going to just get up and leave? What’s going to happen to us?’ 

‘I’m just tired of all of this, ok?’ He shouts, jumping to his feet, his tone sharp enough to pierce right through her heart. ‘We got married and had a kid so fuckin’ young, and there’s so much out there that I could be chasing that I wonder sometimes if all of this is a mistake’. 

‘You asked me to jump off a cliff. This is what you wanted, Atsumu, don’t you dare pin this on me!’ she screams back, not even bothering to staunch the bleeding from her multitude of wounds.  

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound drenched with bitterness and contempt. 

‘Osamu fuckin’ talked me into it – do you think I actually wanted all of this?’ he says, with a callousness she always knew he was capable of but never experienced first-hand. ‘I wish I'd never listened to him, I should’ve just stayed away. Then all of my problems – all of  this - would’ve never existed.’

His words finally strike the breath from her lungs, and she chokes, chilled to the bone, unable to speak as she watches him grab his bag and storm out of the house again. 

‘He’s not picking up my calls either’, Osamu tells her, when she drops by his store a day later. ‘I could hunt him down for you and beat some sense into his thick head’. 

‘Don’t bother’, she says, shaking her head. ‘He’ll resent me even more if you take my side again’. 

‘What are you going to do then?’ Osamu asks, the steam from freshly cooked rice rising between them. 

‘Come home’, her mother said when she called to break the news, her words ringing clear even over the cacophony of threats her older brothers make in the background about ‘slicing that bastard’s balls off with a knife’. She'd be lying if she said she weren't tempted by the promise of her family's support - her father had always taught her to run for the bamboo grove if there were ever an earthquake, to trust in the strength of the bamboo’s roots to hold the foundations of the earth in its place. But she’s built a career in the city, a life for her and Shino in a small apartment between buildings that seem to burst through the clouds in the sky, and she’s not sure she can walk away from all that just yet. 

‘I don’t know’, she says to Osamu. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out along the way’. 

Atsumu evades all of her attempts to talk through matters again, and a month later, he’s packed his bags, ready to get on a flight to Italy. He pauses to kiss Shino goodbye, and slips her two stuffed toys – a fox and a jackal, and she almost smiles at the sentimentality of it. Then he turns to her but does not look her in the eye. 

‘It’s ok to forget me as long as you remember that we have a child’, she says softly.   

He parts his lips to respond but decides against it, eyes hardening as he drops his set of house keys and his wedding ring on the countertop by the front door and storms off. 

She does not cry until Shino is safely tucked into bed, and she finds Atsumu’s old jacket, carelessly thrown in a heap at the back of the closet. She holds it close to her chest, breathing in the memories sewn into its seams, and lets herself finally break. 

‘Miya-san, I saw on the news that your husband is playing in Italy now. We’re all so surprised you didn’t go with him?’ Yuna-san asks in a too-loud voice, and she has to suppress a cringe when the rest of the office hyenas swoop in, hungry for a kill. 

‘We decided that I should stay in Japan to ensure Shino has some stability in her life’, she answers with a tight smile, the practiced statement she and Atsumu’s manager eventually agreed on spilling easily from her mouth. The ladies slink away, and she sighs in relief. 

Atsumu thankfully heeds her words and sends money and gifts to Shino, and even calls their little girl twice weekly, so she still manages to recognise her father - she’s grateful for that. 

He only responds to her texts once, when she messages him to let him know that Shino got admitted to the hospital for a high fever, but seemed to be responding well to treatment, and would be discharged the next day. He promised to pay the hospital bill, and said nothing more. She does not allow herself to be crushed by her disappointment and stops texting him after that. 

Osamu does his best to step in to fill Atsumu’s shoes in his absence, fetching Shino from childcare and letting her hang around his shop until she’s done with work. He spoils her with far too much affection and food, doling both out interchangeably, and his staff and customers treat the little girl like their mascot. 

‘Thank you for all of this’, she says one night, when Osamu insists on walking her and Shino home. ‘I’m sorry for making you clean up Atsumu’s mess.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be blamed for stepping in to meddle with ‘Tsumu in the first place’ he responds with a strained laugh. 

‘Don’t be’, she responds, pressing a chaste kiss to Osamu’s cheek. ‘Your interference gave me Shino. I could never regret that’.  

But Osamu can never fully step into Atsumu’s place - they may look heartbreakingly similar but he is not her husband, a fact she’s painfully reminded of when they drive back to Hyogo to the Miya family home for Obon without Atsumu. She does her duty with her head held high and Shino strapped to her back, placing the offerings by the family graves, releasing lanterns down the lake to guide the Miya ancestral spirits back to the mortal realm, but the matriarch of the family sniffed her disapproval when Atsumu’s mother shakily informs her that he isn’t visiting this year. 

‘You’re his wife - what good are you for if you can’t even make your husband come back home’, the old lady snapped. 

She bent herself into a low bow to murmur a litany of apologies, shaking her head minutely at Osamu before he even tries to put his foot in his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her - dear boy that he is, but he does not deserve the burden of his brother’s sins, and she will not let him go to battle for her when she can hold her own - until the old lady stalks off, only vaguely appeased. The smile on her face for the rest of the night is unflinching but she still cries herself to sleep because she hates herself for being so goddamned stupid  - it should have occurred to her that chasing Atsumu into the eye of the storm would leave her with nothing more than a ruined home and a broken heart. 

But when the morning dawns and the sunrise reflects its colours in her daughter’s eyes, she’s reminded afresh that she's a knife maker’s daughter, and her spine is forged with steel. So she hammers the pieces of her heart back together and does not let herself break again. 

The months pass and the pain recedes. It slowly becomes easier to breathe. 

[heynikkiyousofine]

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3
The saga continues for my dear friend @enchantedink-ag, enjoy lovelies!
Part 2
Bounding from tree to tree in the scattered daylight as it filtered through the canopy, Inuyasha barely had time to catch his breath before taking off once more towards Meiji Shrine, a sacred temple located in a meadow with not much else around it. Miroku explained this temple was sacred, much like Mount Hakurei was. The temple had been built over the grave of the deceased demon, Koyanagi. It was where the twins had taken her, Miroku was sure of it. With it being a sacred place, it was the perfect location to harness spiritual power to bring him back from the dead.
He had been running all day, only stopping to take a quick drink in a stream he passed by earlier. Sweat covered his brow and Inuyasha knew he would have to move even quicker before sundown to make it there, that the full moon would be at its highest just hours after the sun sets over the horizon. Feeling his youki pulse, he pushed forward, leaping from a tree branch as his strength rose and his inner demon roared in anger. Kagome, I’m coming.
——————————————————————————————-
Kagome focused on the dirt on her bare feet, while Kimoto wrapped the sisal rope around the worn wooden pole that protruded from the ground. She needed to keep her strength up, even though she was bone tired and her whole body ached. The blood and dirt caked on her head had dried hours ago, while she sported a nice looking welt on her tear stains cheek where Kimoto had thrown her in the rough dirt. Whimpering, she felt a slight shiver and a wave of nausea roll over her as he continued tying, his hands brushing her backside. Inuyasha. I’m scared. Where are you?
As he finished securing her, Kirigaya spread out her scroll on a near by large stone few feet away, then pulled a dagger from her inner cloak. The smooth steel glistened in the bright moonlight, catching Kagome’s attention from her post. The soft breeze swished across the grass and Kagome knew she would have loved the lay here in the meadow and stargaze with her husband had they come across it in different circumstances. Swallowing quickly, she kept quiet and continued to observe the twin demons. Wiggling her fingers, she pulled against the worn rope, noticing that the rope wasn’t as tight as she had initially thought and felt a familiar aura approach the far tree line. Not wanting to give anything away, Kagome shifted and continued to stare ahead into the dark forest.
——————————————————————————————-
Inuyasha stood in a tall oak tree, glaring at the scene before him. He growled quietly to himself when he noticed Kagome was currently tied to a post in a dirt patch in the middle of a field. Farther back sat a small red painted building he assumed was the shrine. I’m going to kill those fuckers for kidnapping Kagome. He continued watching the duo move around Kagome, setting up the ritual. Glancing at the clear sky, he noticed the moon was almost at its highest point, shining brightly on the scene before him. It was time as he felt an evil aura spread over the forest.
He patted his kosode, feeling the rough outline of the pouch Kaede gave him, the stack of sutras from Miroku, wiggling his ears once, before grabbing Kagome’s bow and arrow and jumping quietly from his spot. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, he just knew he needed to stop the ritual from happening. He needed to save his wife and unborn child.
He simply strode forward silently, keeping one claw gripped tightly on his fang, the other still holding Kagome’s weapons, his eyes darting swiftly around. The two demons didn’t seem to notice him, or to care to even look up at him, which was he thought was odd. He was sure they would have felt his aura by now, unless they were ignoring him. Feeling a bit unnerved, he was suddenly throw back by some invisible force, yelping as he landed on his back. Fucking hell that hurt. Three heads shot up at the sound, the demons staring and smirking at his pain while Kagome’s eyes filled with worry.
——————————————————————————————-
“Ah, the half-breed showed up brother, I had wondered if he would find us. It seems he isn’t as dense as I assumed.” Kirigaya snickered as Inuyasha groaned and slowly stood, staying rooted in his spot. “If you couldn’t tell, we set up a barrier around the ritual site so no one can bother us.”
“That’s right sister, we don’t need anyone interrupting us.” Kimoto added, stepping away from Kagome. Inuyasha! Kagome struggled against the ropes once more, feeling them give away more this time. A plan was beginning to form in her thoughts. Her stomach lurched as she heard Inuyasha’s yelp once more, staring ahead as he was thrown back to the ground again. Her bow and arrows lay on the ground beside him and her determination grew. Once she was free of these ropes….
Kirigaya turned towards her scroll once more before lifting her head to look at the moon’s position and smiling broadly.
“It’s time. Brother, come here.” She reached for his hand, intertwining their slender fingers. “In just a short time, our brother will be returned to us and we will once again be all powerful.”
“You bastards! Let Kagome go!” Inuyasha yelled from outside the invisible barrier, staring at his wife with fear filled golden eyes. Kagome could tell by his wide stance, clenched fists and angry glare that he was becoming desperate. His demon wouldn’t stay away much longer. Hang in there for me Koi, I’ve got a plan. 
Kimoto turned towards her, pure joy in his gray eyes, and lifted his hands. The grass suddenly still and the air around her coming to a halt. If she stopped struggling, she was sure she could hear her own heartbeat with how silent the area was. Glancing at the love of her life, she saw him draw Tetsusaiga and the blade turn a crimson red. He’s going to break the barrier. I need to get out of these ropes and fast.
Kirigaya swiftly turned her head and glared at the half-demon with his sword raised high. She smiled and took a deep breath. Kagome knew what was coming. Kagome didn’t know it was her that was screaming, until Kimoto shoved a small piece of cloth in her mouth, as more tears fell down her cheeks. The pain wouldn’t stop, piercing her skull and making her incredibly nauseous. Focused on not passing out from the pain, she barely felt the blade slice her collarbone. After what felt like an eternity, the sound stopped and Kagome locked eyes with Inuyasha as he blasted through the barrier, shattering it into a million pieces before it disappeared into the air.
“You filthy half-breed.” Kirigaya was seething, gripping the scroll in her hands so tight, her knuckles turning white. Inuyasha stood at the edge of the dirt circle, a smirk spreading across his face. Whipping her head back, she urged Kimoto to continue. Kagome realized his hands had been roaming her body, touching her in places only Inuyasha had ever. Her stomach lurching, she pulled against the ropes once more, her right hand coming free. As Kimoto drew blood from her cheek with the small dagger, she quickly untied the rest of the rope, freeing her left. Pulling the dirtied cloth from her mouth, she shoved at Kimoto. I have to get to my weapon. Inuaysha!
“Inuyasha!” She screamed, her heart bursting at the seams as she watched him race forward.
——————————————————————————————-
Furious didn’t even begin to describe Inuyasha’s feelings. His blood boiled beneath his skin as he swung, breaking the barrier with his red Tetsusaiga. When Kagome’s blood curdling scream filled the air, his heart shattered and his demon roared. He was clawing to get out, determined to kill the very beings who harmed his beloved. He knew purple streaks had appeared along his cheekbones and his fangs were long enough to pierce his bottom lip. When the barrier disappeared, the ringing stopped. Smirking at the female, he was thankful he had decided to wear the ear plugs before arriving. Thank you Sango.
The scent of iron and blood filled this nose and if he could be any angrier, he would be. That fucker was hurting Kagome. He couldn’t use the Wind Scar in his position, he would hurt her too. Deciding his lengthened claws were a good enough weapon, he leaped at Kirigaya just as she stepped forward, drawing her own sword hidden beneath her cloak. Eyes wide, Inuyasha collided with sharp metal, his hands gripping the sword’s length.
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[peterbarnes]

Past Love

Summary: Set somewhat during TFAWTS time, but doesn’t address the plot. Y/N and Bucky talk about his relationship with Steve months after he goes back to the 50s.

Warnings: heartbreak galore, angst but also fluff, sad!bucky

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: my first fic in a few years, let me know what you think in the comments

“Baby, I’m home!” Y/N calls into her apartment as she closes the wooden door behind her. She makes her way over to the kitchen counter a few feet away, dropping the house keys she holds onto the marble.

She looks around the room, furrowing her eyebrows at the absence of her boyfriend. She usually comes home to a “hi, dollface” from Bucky, as he cups her soft cheeks into his rough hands and smothers her with kisses.

Instead, she’s greeted with silence all except for faded labored breaths. She steps deeper into the apartment, towards her bedroom, and the sound gets louder. Curious, but still cautious, Y/N reaches her bedroom door, the floorboards creaking under her. At that sound, the breaths stop and the air stills.

She pushes the door open carefully to find Bucky at the foot of their shared bed, head in his hands as his fingers grip his dark locks with a fierce tightness. Y/N lets out a sigh of relief now knowing that the noise was just Bucky, but quickly rushes over to him.

“Buck? Lovie?” She whispers as she crouches in front of him. She gently removes his fingers from his hair before he can pull it out. With his hands out of the way, she can finally see his face. His default expression is a frown, with his startling cerulean eyes always seeming haunted, but this time was different. There was none of the anger or guilt that his expressions usually wore, just an intense sadness that startled Y/N to her core.

“What happened?” She asked softly.

Bucky shakes his head before lowering his eyes to the floor, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Sweetheart…” She lifts his chin, rubbing her thumb along his rough and stubbly skin. Now she can really see the tears in his eyes as he desperately tries to hold them back. But it doesn’t work and soon they come flowing down his cheeks. He could fill rivers with the amount of tears he’s cried over the past century.

“Sorry, I-I just-“ his voice broke before he could finish the sentence. So instead he pointed to a worn brown leather book that sat on the bedside table. Y/N recognized it as one of Bucky’s many photo albums from the 40s. She walked over the table and carefully picked up before taking a seat next to her boyfriend on the bed.

“Do you miss it, is that what upsets you? Kind of like being homesick?” She says as she flips through the book. There were pages upon pages of photos of Bucky. And in each and everyone one, he was smiling. Really smiling. She wished she could reach into them and tell his past self to be strong, to be brave for everything he’d have to face soon. The thought nearly ripped her heart in two, so she couldn’t imagine how Bucky must’ve felt seeing these again. She tried to interpret his pain, but at the end of the day there was so much of it and it was so specific to his experiences that she felt like a fool for even trying.

“I miss him.”

There it was. The weight Bucky carried on his shoulders every day. The fact that his best friend abandoned him for another life- a life far away from him. Y/N placed the book beside her and wrapped her arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I know. I know how much you cared about him, he was your best friend.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched up the rest of his face, making it more tense than it already was. He did this a lot in social settings, she noticed, when he was uncomfortable with the direction of a conversation. So she pressed her fingers lightly against his forehead, trying to smooth out the stress lines.

“What is it?” She says gently. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I want to help you.”

Bucky’s eyes are trained on his fingers as they fidget on his lap. “I-I’ve been talking with Dr. Raynor. She thinks that I, maybe, had some romantic feelings for him.”

He draws out the last part slowly in a soft, broken voice before dragging his eyes up to meet hers. He’s afraid of what might meet him- rejection, disgust, shame. He’s no stranger to those type of expressions, he gets them all the time. But not from Y/N, instead she wears a soft smile.

“And how do you feel about it?”

“I...I think she’s right.”

Y/N nods before taking his hands in hers and signaling for him to continue.

“I didn’t enlist like everyone thinks I did- I was drafted. I was gonna stay home with Steve, because he couldn’t go. No matter how much I wanted to be like my father and join the army, I couldn’t leave him behind. It was like I couldn’t even imagine being separated from him.”

Bucky spoke fast, as if he’d been holding this all back for so long and was ready to just burst at the seams.

“And when I was...him, I would have flashbacks to my old life. I didn’t know what they meant, I thought they were dreams, but they were always of him. Of his smile or something kind he did for a stranger. I don’t remember the details, just-just the feeling I got from it. It wasn’t that different from how I feel about you now. He was the only one who could bring me back. Make me Bucky again..” He took a brief pause. “And he left. Because he loved another woman the same way I loved him.”

Suddenly all that relief Bucky initially had at getting all of these thoughts off his chest faded as he realized the weight of his words.

“I loved him...and he left me.”

Y/N never knew Steve Rogers, she met Bucky after he had already left. And, sure, she saw him on TV like everybody else in the world. He was Captain America, she was supposed to love him and idolize him, but in that moment she never wanted to throttle someone more.

Y/N hates that Bucky is in such pain all the time, and she would do anything to take away even the smallest amount of it. So to know that someone willingly chose to add to it, even if it wasn’t their intention filled her with a protective rage she didn’t know she possessed.

But she couldn’t act on that. Steve was gone and Bucky didn’t need her anger, he needed her comfort. So she tightened her arms around him, allowing him to bury his head into the crook of her neck and grip onto her for dear life.

“There’s nothing worse than heartbreak- I’ve had my fair share of it before I met you. The thought of someone not choosing you is the worst feeling in the world. But you can’t let that shut you down.” She slowly lifted his head from her neck so she could look him in the eyes. “There are other people that love you, and we will always choose you first. Me, Sam, hell, even Torres loves you even though you scare the shit out of him.”

Bucky chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he rubbed the tears from his eyes.

“I know I could never replace Steve, and I don’t want to. What you and him had can never be replicated. But I swear I will show you every goddamn day how loved and cherished you are. You deserve all the happiness in the world, Bucky, I love you.”

The tears started to flow from his eyes again, but this time it wasn’t out of longing or sadness. It was out of a love that was so all-consuming Bucky didn’t even know how to process it.

“You know, Dr. Raynor said she thought I was still in love with him. And, I’ll always love him, of course I will. But I’m not in love with him. Not the way I am with you, doll”

His rare but infectious smile lit up his face and Y/N couldn’t help but mirror it before pressing tiny kisses to his cheeks, wiping his dried tears away.

“I think I’m gonna be okay,” Bucky states.

His voice doesn’t waver, instead it stands firm and holds a confidence reminiscent of a side of him he thought was long lost. And for the first time in decades, Bucky really believes it. With Y/N by his side, he’s going to be just fine.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

This chapter is very dialogue heavy. Stephen Strange being a little bit of a dick and Tony being a sweetheart. No warnings here, just plot and worldbuilding. I think Tony is his own warning to be honest... Do we want fun facts before each chapter like before or nah?

Sorcerer Strange stared at me with the heat of a plasma beam after I finished stuttering throughout my story, one accurate eyebrow raised and sharp cheekbones painting him displeased and dangerous in the yellow light of the store lamps. The whole experience shook me more than I would have liked to admit to myself and his mute reaction wasn't helping matters at all.

"Hmph," he finally cleared his throat, taking a step back and casting a thoughtful look over the shelves in the store. "You did all you could. Perhaps, we owe you gratitude," his tone was far kinder than his face. "How long have you been doing... This?" He vaguely gestured with a gloved hand.

"Long enough," I replied without thinking. My stress levels urgently rose above acceptable and the feelings needed to be let out now; Wong's dismissive attitude and Strange's half-assed apology for the attitude was still fresh in my mind.

The sorcerer sighed, briefly touching the bridge of his nose. "I won't pretend to understand the reason for your hostility but I'd like to remind you we're on the same side here," his steely blue eyes attempted to peer into my soul.

"There are no sides here," whatever he was selling, I wasn't buying it. "There are just people who get hurt, either because of unstable maniacs with superpowers or aliens who think Earth is an all-you-can-kill buffet," I stuck my dirty, bloody hands in my pockets. "You do your part in mitigating the damage, I do mine. That's all there is."

"And you would be making my job expotentionally harder if you get in the way and slow down professionals, even if you mean well," the man's temper had, evidently, won over and he immediately got on the defensive, crossing his arms and trying to glare me down.

Odette's words rang true, starting a storm of hollow anger in the pit of my skull. "Now listen here, you privileged prick," the damn burst at the seams as I squared up to give him a piece of my mind. "You and your Hogwarts rejects and the merry band of billionaires may have the opportunity to 24/7 healthcare and near-instant compensation for any damages the villain of the week decides to bestow upon your shallow little heads," I advanced half a step towards Strange, hands bailed into tight fists, internally rejoicing at the way he leaned back. My blood sang with adrenaline as I breathed the exhilaration.

"But how many people do you overlook? How many children never make it because your super secret organisation gives their parents an ultimatum just because they are different? This is a safe space for the ones you pretend not to see until it's convenient and it will stay that way, over my fucking dead body, if need be," I stared at the tall man, almost physically feeling his brain halt and pause with the cartoony sound of screeching tires. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

A pregnant pause hung in the air, both of us waiting for the other to explode.

"Don't you think I am aware," Strange finally seethed through gritted teeth, alarming golden sparks shining in his eyes. "The Avengers are not under the rule of SHIELD and I, personally, have no affiliation with either. I do not condone their barbaric methods," the man was struggling to form his sentences properly but even despite that, I understood his ideas.

I desperately wanted to believe his words to be true, I really did, but... "Then do your fucking job and let me do mine. I do not go out there and intervene, I merely clean up the mess you all leave. Something that nobody wants to do do, so unless you've got any takers, I'll keep helping those you deem unfit," in a fit of muted rage, I flew my arm to point at the abandoned cars and destroyed concrete outside of the window, the empty street and the clouds of dust rising into the moody skies.

The entrance door flew open suddenly, with a force strong enough to bang the heavy, old handle against something outside, letting in the stuffy air inside the bodega. Strange jumped at the sound of the screaming hinges, my own heart skipping a beat from the startling interruption.

Visibly composing himself, the man pierced me with a final stare before starting a dangerously quiet, "Very well, goodbye," and hightailing it out of Odette's before disappearing in a golden circle just outside the front porch.

I let my shoulders sag for a brief moment of respite, feeling the tension bleed out of me and penetrate every nook and cranny in the room. My protection charms were mostly destroyed, silver dull, glass and amber crackled. Tossing them into the appropriate recycling bin, I set to clean up the shop, flying through the motions in record time and wandering home through the damaged streets on autopilot.

My anger had cost me more than a fortune in my past but no matter how much I sought to reason with myself, I couldn't bring it to justify Strange's attitude towards my choices. The more I thought about it, the less rational my guesses became; I forced myself to stop thinking about it when my brain had unhelpfully supplied an absurd notion of him being jealous of my lifestyle: he knew next to nothing of my skills and his opinion was based solely on seeing me work the store front and one cleansing spell I'd performed on Bucky. There was simply no rational explanation for his behaviour.

NYC life wasn't affected by the battle in the slightest, it seemed; a day and a half later, I was back at Jeremy's, serving overpriced hot beverages to the rich and the busy. I'd slept on the Bucky and Strange situation, got a handle on my feelings and decided to simply put it away. There were other, more pressing things to worry about than a couple of men.

I didn't expect the flood of anxiety that turned my hands to lead upon seeing Tony Stark's signature suit-and-sunglasses wearing ass waltz into the café. He flashed me his usual easy grin but didn't remove his glasses, eyes eerily blank behind them, as he motioned for his usual order before leaning on the countertop with the entirety of his upper body. "So, Starshine, what is it exactly that you do?" Came the question I was dreading. "Are you, like, a witch? The broomstick and cauldron kind?"

"Mr. Stark, I am serving you coffee and a muffin as we speak," I replied curtly, raising an eyebrow.

"Drop the act, honeybuns. I thought we were friends," if I squinted, I could see that he was genuinely hurt by my lack of desire to communicate. Or, perhaps, he simply was unused to not satisfying his curiosities immediately.

Either way, I stood no chance against Stark patented puppy eyes. "I clock out at two," a sigh of epic magnitude left my mouth against my will. "You can interrogate me then. Until that, it's lattes and cheesecakes only."

Tony narrowed his eyes, smile warming up by a smidgen. "Interrogate you? Never," he pocketed the napkin with Dr. Banner's scribbles the doc had forgotten last time. "I'm merely curious." Another flash of his teeth and he was gone, taking what little peace I had left along with him.

The hands on the clock made their hurried rounds over and over. My chest had grown it's own set of ticking, grinding, mismatched gears as the endless possibilities coursed a steady stream through my head. Tony Stark was a wild card, his struggles with authority a widely known fact, as frequent as his strange habits in just about anything. And while I doubted I would get ambushed and locked up, I had no qualms of him berating me for telling off his boyfriend. He seemed like the possessive, overprotective type, anyways.

As soon as I exited the café, surrounded by the smells of flour and coffee grounds, my eyes immediately landed on the shiny, brand new Audi illegally parked right in front of the establishment, it's owner leisurely leaning against the hood with a face of contented boredom as passerby pedestrians shamelessly ogled him and his ride. His face lit up as he noticed me, immediately rushing to hold the passenger side door open for my comfort. "M'lady," the dorky remark didn't fail to summon a smile to my face even if it was a weak shadow of my usual camaraderie.

"Mr. Stark," I greeted him as soon as he peeled off the crowded sidewalk.

The lack of joy on my face didn't go unnoticed by him and every now and then, he snuck a glance at my face. "Relax, Starshine, I won't bite."

"Well," I mumbled, remembering the vicious way I had torn into his boyfriend. "Good to know."

Seeing as that didn't do much for my nerves, he suddenly swerved right, rushing into a busy intersection with the ease of a practiced manic driver. "I'm feeling like a cheeseburger," he announced unceremoniously, pulling into a parking lot of some place I never noticed.

I doubted that I could swallow anything at all but relented, sitting down opposite him in the furthest booth from the entrance. I ordered the biggest milkshake they had as Tony grinned big at the waitress, finally taking off his sunglasses when she left for the kitchen.

I rested my elbows on the table under the scrutiny of his gaze. He kept quiet. I couldn't hold back my curiosity any more. "So?"

His sharp, clever brown eyes captured and held mine for the longest second in my life. I struggled not to break eye contact until he relented, focusing on the shine of my rings instead. "RoboCop almost died from the shit that happened to him," Tony's words were curt. I inhaled sharply, assuming he was talking about Barnes. The engineer's fingers began to fiddle with his glasses. "We couldn't figure out how you helped him. Not the medical, not Banner, not me and and not even Steph," he paused to run a hand through his hair. "Barnes was hit with a poisoned arrow. There were no toxins left in his body, not even a single inflammation marker showed up on the tests." With that, Tony expectantly turned to me.

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Magic," I simply answered, figuring Strange had already briefed him about my occupation.

Tony shook his head with a snort. "Magic that the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't recognize or cannot detect?" The question was saved in nature.

Stephen Strange was Sorcerer Supreme and I had pissed him off and remained alive. I couldn't believe my luck, if Odette's stories were anything to go by. Inwardly rejoicing, I nonetheless resigned to answer truthfully. "Because there is nothing to detect, no foreign energy," I tried to phrase it in a way a scientist could understand. "What I use to heal, it is given me by nature and willingly. Think of me as a... Conductor. I merely store the energy short-term and direct it where it is needed."

That sparked a visible interest in Tony. He leaned forward, running my whole form, over and over, with his sharp eyes, searching for something I knew he wouldn't find. "Like... Making a blood transfusion?" It was obvious that he was thinking hard about the subject. "Like a successful organ transplant?"

"Something like that," I agreed amicably, seeing as he was talking at himself rather than engaging in a conversation with me.

"But it doesn't come from nothing, the first law of thermodynamics..." He started off in slight confusion.

"Yes, the total amount of energy remains constant," I interrupted him, making his eyes widen. "It's all around us, Mr. Stark. You cannot see it, and most people even cannot feel it, but mother Earth supports her creations. More than we like to think," the corner of my mouth tilted upward at the memories. Working with Gaia directly was like being briefly submersed in a cocoon of pure, warm sunshine; like being held in mother's arms as a babe. "She is kind and she is merciful, especially to the ones whose suffering is unjust," I let the man mull over my words.

The waitress brought our orders; my throat was parched, I took a few haste gulps of the chocolate milkshake. Tony's burger, however, remained unnoticed and untouched.

"Earth is a sentient organism?"

The question made my eyebrows rise; I coughed slightly, meeting his confused eyes with a smirk. "Mr. Stark, keep your science headcanons to yourself," the banter came easily now that the status quo was established.

He rolled his eyes, fitfully resisting the smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm telling on you to Mean Green," there was no malice behind his words.

I doubted the shy scientist would do much more than stutter out two jumbled questions but let the topic slide in favour of closing up on the issue. "Would you call a wolf sentient? No," I shook my head. "But it is autonomous, it has free will. Think of it like that," I wasn't really up to par on explaining Tony all the ins and outs of my craft. The more I spoke, the more questions danced in his eyes. It was charming but not something I wanted to spend most of my day on.

"I won't pretend to be anything but sceptical but as it is, I happen to be dating a wizard," the engineer finally chortled, making hands for his burger. He made a vague gesture with his fork, expression still not-quite out of the thinking place.

"They say opposites attract," I shrugged.

"Romanoff keeps saying we're two sides of the same coin, so," he non-commitally shrugged in return. "Can't help but wonder what the fuck did you tell him that day. He was seething," Tony raised an eyebrow, tone teasing.

"Oh lord," I briefly palmed my face. "Here comes the shovel talk."

"No, no," a fry landed on the table in front of me. I snatched it right from under Tony's hand. He pouted. "He probably deserved it. I mean, you saved the Terminator and, honestly," he paused. "I heard about one third of his rant and I distinctly remember something about 'girls way over their heads' and whatnot," he did a poor imitation of his boyfriend's deep voice. "Now, I consider myself a feminist so, respectfully, I disagree," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

I blanked, trying to process the avalanche of information. "That's a lot to unpack," I acquiesced.

"It means he likes you. I would know," the man had the audacity to wink at me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Tony Stark.

"Are you hitting on me for your boyfriend?" I couldn't resist snarking back, briefly catching his eyes as I polished off my milkshake.

Tony looked at me through his thick, long lashes, a picture perfect visage of surprised innocence. "Maybe," his tone a little too south of friendly, the direction of his eyes a bit lower than my face.

The snort escaped me before I could put a stop to it. The banter - it was easy, comforting in this situation where I found myself to be akin a fish out of water. Like I was a slightly socially awkward witch, Tony was a genius engineer and a notorious flirt. He toed the lines of appropriate with practiced gusto and I hadn't had the heart to do anything but indulge in a little bit of harmless fun ever since he first stepped foot in the café, seeing right through his stone cold facade of an alleged womaniser. Call it a hunch, if you will.

Say what you want about Tony Stark but one thing was definite: he was a gentleman. I thoroughly enjoyed my ride home in his expensive, fast, latest model car. As the city streets zoomed by in a flurry of blurred lines and flashing colorful lights, I allowed my mind to finally calm and resume it's usual even wandering pace.

A hand loosely thrown over the steering wheel, Tony quietly hummed along to the music, playing with the hem of his tee whenever it wasn't occupied with driving the car. He looked so peaceful like that.

The sound system played some contemporary rock that blended in with the moderately busy afternoon of the NYC streets, submerging the surroundings in catharsis. Grey everything with the occasional burst of colour from a traffic light; the brief car ride lulled me into a state almost drowsy.

"You with me, Salem?" Tony's voice quietly took me out of my stupor.

I blinked, seeing the front door of my apartment building. "Yeah, yeah, thanks," I didn't resist the big, wide smile of relief and rejoiced upon seeing his face return to his normal expression, sparkling and mischievous. "That's my stop," I motioned lamely.

Something hung in the air, something unsaid. It leaked through the gaps between Tony's smile and his eyes, it filled up the car with something thick and foggy. I was powerless to stop its influence on me; the daze remained just as it was when we zoomed through city streets.

Tony's fingers twitched on the steering wheel as I exited the vehicle, giving him a short wave before he put pedal to the metal, quickly disappearing into the twilight. I watched his tail lights glow red amongst the flat blacks and greys and beiges of my surroundings, blinking away the dryness in my eyes only when the car disappeared from my view completely.

My apartment was just as I'd left it, warm and slightly messy- but a new feeling had crawled up from the very gutter of me, foreign and impending. The walls didn't breathe the comfort I had hoped I would finally find: if anything, none of what I encountered on my rapid beeline towards the couch felt real.

I'd grown accustomed to the comforts of my solitude and routine, to attached to the simplest task of being. Sorting through my dirty laundry had never been a favourable ordeal for me, I'd much rather lived in a relatively wide bubble- rationally, I knew that sooner or later, change had have to come, but there was nothing ever rational about having feelings on one matter or another.

My spirit was trying to tell me big things were coming and I had no choice but to listen and let the currents of fate and happenstance snatch me up and take me whichever way they pleased.

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