#now the second one can still cover 'whatever suits the character' but you have to think about it a little harder 🤔 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dira333 · 9 months

Text

The Road Not Taken - Part 6

Shibi x female reader with a name - arranged marriage

Summary: Airi Nara seems a hopeless case, until her grandmother sets her up for an arranged marriage. But was marrying Shibi Aburame the right choice after all?

Character Sheet - Masterlist

WARNING This chapter contains canon typical violence and death

Chapter 6 - Airi -

Two weeks pass and you’re at the end of a work cycle.

Every single shift has its advantages and disadvantages, leaving you unable to decide which one you would ask to cut.

Shibi’s recommendation - to cut two days off each week - gets blocked the second you bring it up.

“You can’t work less.” Kazue hardly looks up from her charts. “We need you here.”

“I have a son now, he needs me.”

Kazue levels you with a glare. “How old is he?”

“He’s four.”

She snorts. “That’s old enough to be alone for a few hours. Besides, he’s got a father too, doesn’t he? He can train with him when you’re at work like every other child here does.”

Kazue ends the conversation after that, assigning you the task that everyone hates - the autopsy shift.

It’s less draining on your Chakra than any other shift but it depletes what good mood you had left over from the morning. When you finally clean up, more than eager to get home, Kazue crosses your path again, handing you a scroll.

“Urgent mission. You need to get ready in half an hour.”

“But-” You start and she glares at you until you close your mouth and nod.

“Your shift tomorrow is covered but in case you come back earlier than expected, report to your usual shift.”

Half an hour is not nearly enough time for what you need to get done.

You race home and send a shadow clone to fetch Chiasa when Shibi is nowhere to be found.

She arrives in a cloud of Kikaichu and striped sleepwear.

“Shibi’s on a mission.” She explains, her tone dry as always.

“I have to leave for one as well.”

“Ah.” She eyes the bar of chocolate you’re wolfing down in between packing your stuff. “When are you going to be back?”

“Estimated time is up to twenty hours. I’m on late shift rotation and if I’m home earlier I have to report back anyway. If Shino asks for me tomorrow…”

“He understands what missions are about.” Chiasa sounds clearly annoyed now and you suppose she’s right. But you can’t help thinking about your own childhood and how it felt to stay behind when your parents had to leave for missions. Especially the one they never came back from.

“I’m telling him goodbye.” You rush past her before she can stop you, climb the stairs knowing full well you’re going to be late to the meeting point.

“Hey, Shino…” You shake his shoulders softly and he grumbles, a wave of Kikaichu crawling over your hands in response. Whatever they tell him, it wakes him up and he blinks blearily up at you.

“I have to leave on a mission,” You tell him quietly, “Chiasa is here and looking after you. I won’t be home tomorrow when you wake up.”

Even in his sleepy state, he grasps the meaning of your words immediately, his hands following suit. He’s hanging off your shoulders now, face pressed against your neck.

Shino does not speak, he does not need to. The Kikaichu crawling over your body tell you more than enough and you keep talking to him, your voice quiet and soothing until he lets go of you again.

You kiss him on the forehead one last time and sneak a piece of chocolate into the top drawer of his nightstand for him to find in the morning.

Haruno Mikio’s bright pink hair is clearly visible even this late at night.

Your heart leaps at the thought of having him on your team but when you approach him, he wipes sweat and dirt off his forehead and grins apologetically.

“Sorry dumpling,” he flicks your forehead, “Just got back. Maybe next time.”

You roll your eyes at the age-old nickname. Mikio, Tsume and you had been Genin-Team 8 years ago and while you wouldn’t call the three of you best friends, there’s still some fondness left for each other.

“Say hi to your kid for me,” you tell him off and march over to the other group of Shinobi waiting at the gates.

Ohta Masashi and Ota Minori are both Jonin, who are, ironically, not related.

They might share almost identical looks and fighting styles and even their last names are almost identical, but everyone who’s spent the better part at the Academy with them in one class - like you - knows better.

“What are you doing here?” Masashi asks, annoyed as usual in your presence. “This is an A-Rank Mission. You’re still Chunin.”

“All Missions above and including B-Rank Missions should include a Medi-Nin.” You remind Masashi as calmly as you can. You’d rather be at home anyway.

“Who’s leading the mission? The information I got was pretty dire.”

“Some Aburame,” Minori shrugs, “Or was it Asamune? Didn’t really care. Didn’t you marry lately? I heard something.”

“I did.” You have no intentions on discussing your life with your school bullies but Minori seems to have other plans.

“Heard it’s an Aburame. Didn’t know Deer and Bugs could be sexually compatible.” He snickers as if he’d just made the best joke ever and Masashi joins in when someone clears their throat directly behind you.

“It seems we’re all here.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere by now and turn, hoping against all odds that Shibi hasn’t heard anything that Minori has just said.

Just half a second later your head registers something more important.

“You’re the team lead?” You ask, your head spinning with thoughts. “Chiasa said you’d gone on a mission, what about-?”

He nods, cutting your rambling off. “She’s been informed. Shino is taken care off.”

Relief washes over you but that never lasts long with the trouble twins near you.

“Wait a minute.” Masashi, always the smarter one, connects the dots. “You guys are married?”

“We are. Do you have a problem with that?” Shibi’s voice is cold when he speaks, something you haven’t heard from him before.

An almost sadistic grin grows on Minori’s face and he shakes his head.

“Nah. Just surprised the Hokage thought that would be a good idea. Oh well, if one of us two dies we’ll know it’s because the princess couldn’t take her eyes off her husband.”

“You can leave.” Shibi’s voice cuts through the tension, “I’ll have no problem finding someone else for this mission. Someone more suitable.”

Masashi is the first to come to his senses, shaking his head.

“Nah.” He slaps one hand onto Minori’s shoulder. “We’re good. We’re good.”

Twenty minutes later Konoha lies far behind you.

Shibi has all of you moving at a breakneck speed and soon, the ‘terrible twins’ fall behind.

You don’t really know how you keep up, your focus narrowing on just the next tree and the tree after that.

When Shibi stops, you don’t notice until you slam right into him, cutting your chin on the rough exterior of his gourd. He doesn’t move and the impact throws you back, the only thing keeping you from falling off the tree is Shibi himself, who grabs your arm.

“Why did you stop?” You ask, breathless and embarrassingly wheezy.

“Your Chakra signature has started to fluctuate. Are you alright?”

You wipe the blood from your chin and focus again, your hand glowing with Chakra as you move it across your body only to let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ve started my period.” You explain lowly, hoping against all odds that the terrible twins are still way behind you.

Shibi tenses immediately, much to your surprise.

“I’m fine.” You tell him. “I just burn out quicker. Can I take a quick break, though?”

“I’ll keep watch.” He speaks stiffly and you can’t fault him for that. He’s spent four years without a woman in his house and who knows how involved he was with that business before.

You assume that he means well, but the cloud of Kikaichu following you as you make your way over to a few narrow bushes makes you feel like he’s watching you instead of whatever enemies the forest hides.

Rushing through the task you climb back up the tree minutes later.

“How long until we set up camp?” You ask. “Have we located them already?”

As it’s an A-Rank Mission you got only a slimmed down version of the mission briefing in the scroll Kazue gave you.

What you do know is that you’re following a group of Kiri-Nin who’ve been suspects for months. Only now they’ve given Konoha a reason to hunt them down - they stole sensible documents.

“We’re making good time. We should come close to their camp in about three hours. We cannot attack before sunrise though. Why? We know that at least one of the Shinobi is weaker in the light, using the darkness to their advantage.”

“Three more hours?” You squint at your watch in the low light of the moon. It’s pretty unnecessary, your exhaustion alone is telling you that you’re already way past midnight.

You pull a pillbox out of your bag and flick the lid open, squinting at the content.

“What is it?” Shibi steps closer.

“Just Soldier Pills.” You explain and successfully spot the version that’s a little bit weaker than the regular version.

You don’t want to be awake for three days straight. One is more than enough.

“Why are you looking at them?” There’s a weird undertone in Shibi’s voice and you look up at him. He’s standing with his back to the sky, his face covered in darkness.

“I was trying to pick out the version I make for myself. It’s a bit weaker than the regular ones.”

“Why are you looking at them?” He repeats, again with that weird undertone.

“You can pick up Chakra Signatures. You should be able to tell why I need them.”

“I’ll carry you.”

You laugh at the absurdity of it.

“I am perfectly capable of making the distance myself. It’s your speed that’s giving me trouble. But I will be fine. There’s nothing wrong with Soldier Pills.”

“Yes there is. Hiding your exhaustion behind stimulations is not the way to go.”

“Shibi.” You’re deeply annoyed now. “I am not a child. Furthermore I am a Medi-Nin and qualified to tell you if these things are bad for you or not. I’m pretty sure almost every Shinobi in our ranks has taken them at least once by now. What’s gotten you so riled up?”

He’s quiet for a while.

You’re not sure why you wait for his answer instead of just popping one of the pills and getting this all over with.

Eventually, he speaks.

“You do not like being away from Shino.” He starts and moves his head slightly, his glasses reflecting the moonlight for a moment. “Neither do I. It makes me worry more. Is he alright? Did I prepare him for everything should the worst happen? I have not thought about the possibility of worrying about you but now I find myself wondering if I am a good team lead if you need stimulants to keep up with the mission.”

“How about a compromise?” You can hear yourself say.

“You can carry me until we set up camp - under the requirements that no one sees or hears about that, ever - and I’ll save the soldier pill for when it’s really necessary, in case of a fight or an emergency. I know what I’m doing with them, I even make them myself, but if it will ease your mind, this would be an arrangement I’d be comfortable with.”

“It’s acceptable for me as well.” He agrees. “I’ll let Ohta and Ota know which direction we’re moving in.”

Only when you’re on his back, arms slung around his shoulders and your nose buried in his hair, you realize how idiotic this compromise is.

You might conserve energy through this, but he’ll tire out much faster if he has to carry you for three hours.

If Shibi has realized that as well, however, he does not show.

And you might not know him that well yet, but you’ve already realized that he’s stubborn.

Finding another compromise might take you hours.

It speaks for your exhaustion that you doze off almost immediately and need a few seconds to orient yourself when you wake up with your nose pressed into his hair.

“Shibi?” You ask, struggling to move out of his grip. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve located them. They’ve set up camp and I’ve called Ota and Ohta to pick up speed so that we can rest before attacking them. Why? We’re up against someone who’s strongest in the darkness. We will use the morning light to our advantage.”

You nod. “I’ll set up camp then as well.”

He opens his mouth to disagree but you stop him with a hand on his elbow.

“Shibi.” You put as much emphasis as you can on his name. “I am fine. I am a Chunin, not a child.”

He doesn’t respond to that, just gives you a tense nod and you make your way down the tree.

Overhead you hear the rustling of leaves and the telltale sound of someone approaching through the treetops.

You can’t see them but you can hear them. Minori is cursing under his breath but Masashi’s the one addressing Shibi.

“Can you call back your bugs? We got it the first time, you don’t have to push and pull us here.”

“We should attack.” Minori sounds restless. “They’re only three, we could take them down easily, they’re only Kiri-Nin.”

“No.” Shibi’s voice is filled with so much authority you can feel it even down here on the ground.

“Where’s the wifey?” Minori asks, followed by the sound of a slap and him cursing softly. “What was that for?”

“It’s Aburame-san, idiot.” But there’s a teasing lilt to his words that tells you he’s going to give you shit later when Shibi isn’t around to hear it.

“She’s setting up camp. You should get down as well. I will take the first watch, we still have some time before sunrise. Why-”

His sentence is interrupted by a rumble you can feel in your bones.

It’s the only warning you get.

Even though you’re immediately on high alert, the attack comes out of nowhere.

You barely dodge the blade moving towards you and can feel the faintest sting on your cheek where it cut you. Down here where the moonlight barely reaches you, you have to act on instinct instead of sight, especially when a well-aimed kick against your flashlight renders it useless.

You throw your shadow at him, glad that no matter how many training sessions you’ve missed in the last weeks, your Kekkei Genkai does not lose its strenth.

The guy curses in your hold and you move slowly, step away from him to bring distance between you before you reach into your belt and bring some light into the situation.

The lighter, an old heirloom from your maternal grandfather, hisses to life. It gives only the barest of lights but you can see the face of his attacker.

“Release me.” He spits at you.

“Why would I?”

“My friend might show you mercy if you do.”

“Is your friend the one who has the scroll on him or is that you?”

He curses again and you lower the lighter to check how he’s holding his weapon before you attack.

You leave him bound to a tree, unconscious and relieved of any weapons.

The others must have moved further away during the attack and you make your way up a tree to look for them.

What you find is a crater. Big enough to fit a house inside.

You swallow your nerves and move away from it, following the line of trees that have been cut in half.

After all these years as a Shinobi, the darkness isn’t scaring you any longer. But the Silence does.

There’s no sound of fighting, nor the movement of fleeing feet. Not even the animals make any sound as you move, faster and faster.

At one point you cave and pop a soldier pill, hoping against all odds that you won’t need the extra Chakra. You tell yourself that this is how it will play out. You wide awake back at home because the others have already won the fight and the cut on your cheek is the only thing in need of healing.

But then you find the body.

The legs are the first thing you see, the right one covered in blood, the pant leg shredded.

It’s the standard uniform pants of the Konoha Shinobi and you hurry forward, heart lurching in your chest.

Please don’t be Shibi, please let it not be Shibi. You pray silently as you move, ears strained for a waiting enemy.

It’s Masashi.

“What happened?” You’re dropping down next to him, getting to work immediately.

One Shadow Clone appears next to you, keeping watch for any attacks as you assess his injuries.

His left side is sliced up badly and he’s lost a lot of blood.

But he’s still conscious.

“There are two of them.” Masashi croaks. “One of them uses the darkness like a knife. We got a few good punches in but he’s too fast.”

“I captured the third one.” You tell him. “He did not have the scroll. Do you need something against the pain?”

“I’m good.” He huffs but his face is pale and you press a different pill against his lips.

“Chew this. You lost a lot of blood and I need you up as quickly as possible.”

“Missing your husband already?” He jokes.

“I’m thinking of Minori.” You snap back angrily and he shuts up immediately.

You have to move slowly, you and your shadow clone supporting Masahiro on either side.

Above the trees, the sky is slowly getting brighter and you pray that morning comes fast enough.

At some point, a cloud of Kikaichu finds you, curling around you like a hug.

“What’s he doing?” Masashi asks, clearly disgusted by the tiny little bugs crawling over his and your skin.

“He’s checking us for injuries, I think. If he can spare this many Kikaichu, he’s captured the attackers.”

Shibi meets you halfway.

Next to him, carried on another cloud of Kikaichu, is Minori.

His face is pale, his clothes painted red.

You know he’s dead before Shibi speaks the truth into existence.

Coming home from a mission gone wrong is always the hardest part.

Masashi refuses to take a break, refuses to let anyone else carry Minori.

It’s almost noon when you arrive at the gates, the guards blanching at your appearance.

Masashi and you are covered in blood, even Shibi’s coat spreckled with it.

The walk through the backstreets of Konoha is quiet.

The Hokage offers you the tired compassion of a man who has seen this too many times to care. Reports are to be handed in tomorrow.

As Medi-Nin of this team, Masashi is still under your care and Lord Third orders you to take him to the hospital, Shibi staying behind for questioning.

Masashi, usually loud and annoying, is quiet.

He’s quiet when he moves, quiet when you order him to strip off his blood-stained clothes in exchange for a hospital gown.

You’re afraid of what’s hiding behind this quiet, too much of a coward to ask him how he’s feeling.

The two of you were never friends, more of the contrary.

But losing someone is always hard, no matter how much of a dick you’ve been before.

Shibi finds you outside of Masashi’s room, checking his charts one last time.

“You’re not hurt?” He asks and you feel his eyes moving across your body.

“Just a scratch on my cheek.” You point to it. “It’s healing already.”

He nods. “Let’s go home then. Why? Shino will be waiting.”

You open your mouth to remind him of your rotation when Kazue rounds the corner.

“Oh good, you’re here. You have the autopsy shift today and we got notice that we need to look for poisons in some bodies.”

She offers you a clipboard and you begrudgingly stretch out your hand to take it, only for Shibi to push it back towards Kazue.

“Shibi?” You ask, surprised.

“She’s not working today. Why? She’s been at work for over 24 hours.”

“That’s not my problem.” Kazue snaps back in her usual fashion, not realizing that she’s not talking to one of her subordinates but a Clan-head.

“It is now your problem.” Shibi’s voice is as cold and cutting as a Kunai. “If you cannot take care of the ones working under you, you won’t have people working under you for long.”

“Is this a threat?” She bristles and he nods.

“Aburame-san will be back at work tomorrow.” He tells her and leads you away with a hand on the small of your back.

There’s a remark on the tip of your tongue, but you make the conscious decision not to open your mouth. It’s the second time you see Shibi act like the Clan Head and respectable Shinobi he is. As his wife, you’re supposed to follow him and if he’s willing to take on Kazue, you’re sure as hell not going against it.

#my writing #Shibi x reader #Shibi Aburame x reader #Shibi Aburame #Shino Aburame #arranged marriage #Second Chance Romance #Naruto fluff #Naruto imagine #Naruto fanfiction #tw: violence #tw: death

41 notes · View notes

divineerdrick · 3 months

Text

Warhammer World Reveals for Mar 2, 2024

So I'm late on this, and not looking to not be late on these any time soon. Still, I really enjoy blogging these reveals.

In case you didn't hear, this time we didn't get a live show. My guess is that this isn't because live shows won't be a thing anymore, but just because they don't have many reveals this time around. Still, we'll have to wait and see what they're up to in the future.

We still get our WarCom article above, so let's take a look at what we've got!

NOW DATZ PROPPER ORKY!!!

LOOK AT DAT MECH SUIT!!!

LOOK AT DEM WEAPONZ!!!

Seriously! This Big Mek is badass! I definitely prefer the alternate head sculpt with the iron jaw. But if you're someone who pictures your Waaagh's Mek as being a little more kunnin', the main previewed sculpt is still good.

We also get some stats. That is a nice big gun, but in keeping with standard Ork themes it's going to be very swingy. While fly can be a relevant keyword, you're not bringing this git for his firepower.

This, on the other hand, is a perfect reason to bring him. Re-rolling advance rolls isn't anything to sneeze at, and this will make his unit really hard to screen out. Very dangerous, especially if Calling the Waaagh remains unchanged.

There's an interesting box for you!

I'm not going to speculate on whether or not this box will be any good, since we don't know what's going to happen in the codex. But three of those kits are pretty relevant right now. And if you've ever wanted a Stompa, here's a potential discount if you need or can split the other models.

Finally we have our Codex reveal. Haven't been the biggest fan of this Edition's Codex art so far. Don't get me wrong, it's a cool piece of art, but it doesn't really sell the army well to me.

Next we have our reveal for the Custodes. And yeah, sorry, this doesn't bring as much excitement for me as that Big Mek.

Our second new mini is a new Shield-Captain. He definitely looks suitably ornate and imposing, but I'd keep the helmet on. I think the expression on that head sculpt is supposed to be contempt, but it's just not reading clearly as anything. In fact it just as easily reads as, "What the hell happened to this galaxy while I was stuck on Terra?" Fitting maybe, but not really portraying the majesty of the finest warriors in the galaxy.

The Shield-Captain can now take a Pyrithite Spear, which is appropriate since you'd think a Shield-Captain could basically wield whatever they wanted. Previously, this weapon was limited to Forge World. Melta may have lost a step in 10th Edition, but Custodes have plenty of ways to get more out of it.

This model is also coming with it's own box set, including a full six Vertus Praetors. Those aren't doing particularly well right now, but they could get some love in the upcoming Codex.

Again, that's a very well done golden man, but there's nothing here to sell the faction or inspire a player. Why aren't they doing battle scenes on these covers anymore? Seeing a Captain and three Guard holding their own against a horde in their elegant combat stances would go much further to depict just how epic these warriors are.

This ties in with Hammer and Bolter, bringing characters introduced there to the table top. As such, I feel like this is going to be a bit niche.

The sculpts are definitely nice, but I'm not really seeing anything that screams AoS about them.

One of my greatest praises for current GW has been how they've used the Mortal Realms to really let their imaginations take flight. So many of the new factions are just such wonderful reimaginings classic fantasy races. But these look like they would feel at home in any dark fantasy world. You could easily see them stepping off the pages of a Conan novel from the 1950s. For some, this will be a good thing. But especially now that Old World is back, I want Sigmar to keep pushing and keep giving us stuff that is new and cool.

There's also no hint at rules, or even system, for this band of killers. I'm betting we might eventually see rules for both AoS and Warcry. But it would be nice if they got some Underworlds love too, even if maybe the Singri has to stay behind.

This is the one reveal I'd had spoiled. This is so much fun and Blood Bowl is the perfect place for it! When I saw the preview of the goose, I was honestly thinking that maybe it was something for halfling cooks for Old World. But this is way better!

These are a lot of fun, but I do kinda wish they'd gone a bit further. These gnomes don't really look like they're playing the most brutal sport in Fantasy. But I can't help but think of how much fun, and thematic to the game, it would be to see a bunch of wild animals just let loose on the field.

Remember, there's no rule that says a badger can't play Blood Bowl!

Final Thoughts

This was fun! Although I had a lot to say about Codex covers, that Shield-Captain's face sculpt, and some generic bad guys in AoS, these were still fun reveals. I can also definitely understand why they didn't really hype us up for them or do a live show. But as a casual release for a Saturday news post, this is perfect.

And yeah, I'm not gonna stop being salty about 10th Edition Codexes any time soon. So it will probably take something impressive to make me cheer a Codex reveal.

8 notes · View notes

the-fiction-witch · 11 months

Text

Love Bug

Media Orbit Ever After

Character Nigel

Couple Nigel X Reader

Rating Cute + flirty Af

Concept Love bug

I stood doing my usual work, scooping in trash from the endless void of space, I'd done it forever and honestly it was boring as hell. It didn't help now I had moved away into my own little hovel away from my family I was all alone which didn't help my boredom. But I did my work anyway grabbing anything I could use for food, fuel, to repair things really anything of use of or interest for me to tinker with. I spotted something just across the way so I waited and set my net up to catch it and slowly dragged it in, I didn't recognize the symbols but it looked pretty beat up so I threw it down into the hovel and didn't think much more of it. Once finished for the week I headed down into my little hovel it fairly tidy and new given I brought a new one when I moved out as I wanted a sleeker and more modern one then my family had. And I stopped off my space suit and began sorting through the various things I had gathered putting them in the various piles until I got to that weird thing.

It was… something technological. I think. I'd never seen the symbols on it before. But given how beat up it was I doubt it still worked.

I gave it a bit of a tinker and nothing much happened for a good while until I cleaned off some dust and some stuck dirt finding a small old style scanner pad the moment I touched it the whole thing lit up, I was nervous not really wanting to touch it but my curiosity only grew so I touched the scanner pressing my hand against it, just for a second before it became to hot for me to touch almost burning my skin

"Oww!" I complained moving my hand away and I noticed the scanner then covered itself with an imprint of my hand and I saw it had taken a small skin sample from my wrist no bigger than an inch. It then turned off seaming as dead as before I have it a kick and a poke but nothing so I just threw it on my scrap pile maybe it just had enough power and then finally died.

But I didn't think too hard about it having my dinner and a shower before heading to bed for the night.

I work up so cosy, I was so warm, so happy and I was really comfy until it hit me why am I so cosy an cuddly? I opened my eyes and immediately had a heart attack as in my bed laid … a girl and she- she's beautiful. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She was perfect. As if someone went into my mind and cherry picked all the things I adore and brought her into reality, she laid there her hair against the pillow her body against mine in only a small white shirt dress long enough to cover her even if her nipples piled thought the fabric and her ass almost hung out the back

"Ahhh! Who are you!" I yelped in shock

"Humm?" She yawns sitting up rubbing her eyes "what's the matter Nigel?"

"AHH! How do you know my name! Who are you! How did you get here!" I asked getting out of bed putting some space between us

"Hum?" She asks turning her head seeming confused

"What the hell is going on, tell me and tell me right now or I'll swear I'll throw you out the airlock" I told her

She got up from the bed and walked into the main living area I was confused so I followed her and she went to that weird thing I picked up yesterday that had the scanner on it was now slightly open she dug around a moment before coming over and offering me something

"A fileflash?" I asked looking at the thin thing "my god i haven't seen one in years, uhhhh give me a sec I might have something that can read it" i told her taking the small file flash, I dug around my hovel for a good while trying to find anything that could read a file flash and eventually I found one believe it or not in my junk pile so I set it up on my desk it was a little hazardous and cobbled together but It would do. Putting it in and letting it load up whatever was on it all while she excitedly sat at my feet when it finally loaded I had no ability to input so I just looked through the various things trying to find some kind of explanation "Ahhh a sales video that'll explain things"

"Hi, I'm Steve and I'm the CEO of love bug enterprises. First I'd like to thank you for your interest and subsequent purchase from our company." He explained "now you have purchased our premium love bug companion package, contents include a shipping pod, scanning plate, your personal file flash, and of course the love bug itself. Now what exactly is a love bug you may be asking? A love bug is our patented term for the creature 'jilloumiaus danataus pilishsjimus' these are native to flozin 7 a moon orbiting around Colontis in the ramsavix region of the galaxy. These creatures were on the brink of extinction before our company discovered them and helped them achieve their true purpose." He explained I did my best to listen and make notes even if I often had to bat her off me as she kept trying to cuddle me and lay her head on me "now these creatures are very unique in that they remain in a docile state until given a host some describe them as parasite creatures but we like to say there just little love bugs that lie in wait for their perfect companion. What happens is when a love bug is born it remains in a docile fluid egg state until it reaches maturity from then they wait until they find a host where they take a sample of its genetic material and match it's form to that of its host. Then proceed to feed of the host. They feed on genetic material so believe us they are very happy to live this life. We here at love bug enterprises simply take your order for a companion take a newly mature love bug from its natural habitat and ship it across the galaxy to you where your initial scan provides the bug with your DNA allowing it to form a body the same Species and of course to your personal liking. This can take up to six days to fully form but once formed they will have a built in emotional attachment to you as their host. Remember this is what they would do in the wild so they are very happy. Any issues contact the love bug enterprises help line and have a lovely day" he explained

I quickly looked them up and the company went out of business about fifty years ago, meaning that pod is likely one of the last ones or got lost in shipping at some point… and I let it scan me.

"Ummm time for cuddles Nigel?" She whines nuzzling with my leg

"I uhh I'm your host aren't I?'

"Of course" She nods "and I love you very much" she giggled

"Right… when it says genetic material? What exactly do you feed on?" I asked her

She giggled nuzzling even closer to my leg and stroking her hand delicately across my crotch "oh… okay. Right. Yes. Really?"

"Ummm humm" she nods "I'm hungry master" she pleads

"Uuughhh…okay"

11 notes · View notes

dovahkiin796 · 7 months

Text

The Glam-Family: Halloween

Halloween Special

Cassie was excited. How could she not be? Today was Halloween, one of the big three holidays at the end of the year. The only time of year when kids can get bag loads of free candy and where being scared is fun.

However, those reasons are not why Cassie is excited. She's excited because this will be the first major holiday she and Gregory can celebrate together. Their fast friendship began in the summer, shortly after 4th of July and when they were at the end of their second week of being friends, Gregory went missing. A time she never wants to relive again.

Cassie never had friends to spend the holidays with. At least not for a long while that is, till she met Gregory. So, Cassie's excitement makes sense. Even now as she's walking down the sidewalk toward her friend's house. There's a bit of a pep in her step and even to those she passes by on the sidewalk who can't see her face because of the mask she's wearing. Would still be able to tell she has a big smile on her expression.

After twenty minutes of walking the young girl finally reaches the home of her friend. She can see they didn't skip out on decorating it with a wide assortment of Halloween decorations. It wasn't all out like some of the other houses she walked by, but it was still greatly covered in the aesthetic of the holiday.

Walking up the pathway to the door and as the brunette was only about halfway there. The front door opens up and stepping into view was someone in century old clothing. A long red coat, dark grey trousers and a black button vest worn underneath, a red tie tied around the neck to slightly resemble a bowtie, red leather gloves, red calf length boots, and lastly a red and black top hat. Cassie could tell whoever was standing on the porch was a woman by their feminine body shape. But Cassie couldn't tell who it was because of the metallic mask that was made to resemble an animal skull that is covering most of the woman's face. And If Cassie's eyes aren't playing tricks on her. She's sure that this woman is wearing another mask underneath. A ski mask she thinks. In the woman's right gloved hand seems to be a stick. But after a second of analyzing it. Cassie was able to notice it was actually a wand.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Said the woman in a British accent. Though despite the accent, Cassie was still able to recognize Vanessa's voice. "My I have never seen a creature like yourself in these parts before. A nice price you'll fetch for me on the black market." Vanessa gestured to the young girl with her wand.

Cassie couldn't help but grin amusingly. She didn't think Vanessa of all people would dress up for the holiday. Let alone get into character. Whatever character she's supposed to be dressed as. "Or perhaps I'll keep your pelt for myself. You'll definitely give my residence a much-needed flare to it."

The masked woman taps the wooden railing of the porch. "However," She said, pausing for a second for dramatic effect. "I can be a fair woman. I'll let you go if you can get pass my beast and make it up here on the porch in one piece." Vanessa aims her wand to her right and does a twirling gesture with it. Just then the sound of the garage door opening catches Cassie's attention. Once fully opened, stepping out of the garage is a little over six feet tall serpent-like creature with arms and legs.

Right away the brunette can tell the serpent costume was made of cloth. But regardless of that it was well made and actually scary looking. Cassie also could tell one of the Glamrocks are under the suit to do being too tall to be anyone else. But she's not sure which one.

The creature walks over and stands between Vanessa and Cassie. "Behold my feline friend! My very own basilisk!" The 'basilisk' lets out a deep, fear inducing hiss. The hissing was a big indicator that it's Monty wearing the costume. "I would tell you the story how I caught such a rare, valuable creature that is feared throughout the entire world. But you won't live to hear it."

"As if." Stated Cassie confidently. Vanessa feigned surprise when hearing Cassie talk for the first time since arriving. Saying how she's even more eager to make a pelt out of her. After Cassie had that, she watches as Monty gets into his prowling position. The very same one he took when hunting Gregory. Sidestepping to the right, Monty copies her. She then sidesteps to the left, same result. The girl hums, 'How am I going to get past him? I'm not dealing with a legless Monty this time.'

From behind the mask, she scans the lawn to see if she can find something that might help her in this. The sight of the Halloween decorations gives her an idea. Cassie bolts to a set of tombstones with Monty going after her to intercept. She manages to reach the fake marble stone and stand behind one of them. Monty, when getting there, tries to go for the direct approach and grab Cassie. But he had to carefully squeeze between the tombstones and not break them. Which slowed him down.

Something Cassie was hoping for. She takes this opportunity and runs around the decorations. In a desperate attempt Monty reaches over a tombstone to grab her, but this throws him off balance as he reached too far. He was fortunately able to use his built-up momentum to twist himself so that way he would end up falling between the tombstones.

He falls to the ground with an oof and a loud thud. With him down the brunette rushes toward the front porch. She practically jumps over the single step and calls out. "Safe!" Letting the excitement in her die down for a brief moment. Cassie turns to face Vanessa. "I got to admit Vanessa, I didn't expect this from you. That was quite the performance." In the background they can hear Monty grumble to himself as he heads back to the garage.

The older woman softly chuckles and removes the mask from her face and Cassie was right when she thought she saw another mask being worn. Though it being a ski mask wasn't entirely accurate. It was a balaclava that exposed most of Vanessa's face.

"You're not the only one." She said with a small smile. "I guess the spirit of the holiday got me to really express one of my interests." They both shared a laugh. Cassie then asks Vanessa what or who is she dressed as. The blonde answers she's dressed as a Poacher Duelist from the game Hogwarts Legacy. Cassie... has no idea what Vanessa is talking about. But she still compliments the costume as she can tell Vanessa put in the work of making it.

"By the way, speaking of costumes. Why this one?" Asked the adult as she lightly tugs the collar of the outfit. The young girl shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, I already had it. Might as well make further use out of it."

The costume in question is a male white tiger wearing an Elvis Presley inspired white jumpsuit with purple accents. The top of the jumpsuit has two purple lines going down the torse, one on each side. And four gold buttons, two on each side. A medium length cape hung from the shoulders, the interior being purple and the exterior being white. The edge of the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves were also purple but with some gold as well. Tied around the waist is a golden sash. The pant legs of the suit are bellbottoms. Worn over Cassie's entire head is a tiger mask with two different colored eyes. Green and blue.

Just in that moment Roxxane Wolf along with Gregory both step out the door. They become excited when seeing their friend standing on the front porch. Though the wolf was the most excited to see the girl judging by her wagging tail. Taking off the tiger head. "Hey guys! Happy Halloween!"

"Happy Halloween!" They both returned. Focusing her attention on Gregory, she asks him if he's ready to head out. The question was rhetorical. He was already in his costume and holding a pillow sheet in his left hand. Gregory was dressed as a space marine. Cassie couldn't tell from what franchise though. To her, they tend to bleed into one another unless it's something more obvious.

He nods his head. "Come on! We should get going before all the good candy is taken." Agreeing, the young girl puts her mask back on. But before they can even walk off the porch. "Wait a minute." Suddenly said Roxxane. Turning, they both watch as the female wolf heads back inside the house. Only to come back out a second later with a big bowl of candy in her hands.

"A little starting candy before you go." They smile and open their pillow sheets. Roxxane drops two pieces of candy each into the sacks. Now having a bit of a head start into their trick-or-treating. Gregory and Cassie eagerly walk off the porch and then onto the sidewalk. Vanessa shouted out for them to stay together and for Gregory to call her on his Faz-Watch if there's an emergency.

He shouts back he will, while also flashing the wrist mounted device to show he has it on him and that it's turned on. Both Vanessa and Roxxane watch as the two kids skip pass the neighboring houses.

While not trying to show it on her face. Roxxane can't help but feel worried. She wanted to join them on their trick-or-treating so she can keep an eye on them. But Vanessa and Rebecca were able to convince her that Gregory and Cassie are old enough to be on their own tonight. Not only that, but they live in a safe neighborhood with nice people. So, anything happening to them is slim to none.

Having to put her faith into what she was told. Roxxane heads back into the house with Vanessa right behind her. They had to get ready for the trick-or-treaters that will eventually come to the door.

XxX

When the pair were about five houses away from Gregory's. They began to walk up to houses to officially celebrate Halloween. After hitting a total seven of them, Gregory and Cassie have gotten themselves a good haul so far.

The homeowners went above and beyond and bought the large size candy bars to hand out to the kids. And those who bought the smaller packages of candy were giving kids two each. Something they were happy about. They continued to hit more houses and by now their pillow sheets were a quarter full.

Standing off to the side so they wouldn't be blocking the sidewalk. Gregory and Cassie look at all the candy they got. "Look at this haul we have gotten." Said Gregory. "We're only like, what? Twenty minutes into our trick-or-treating?"

"I'm definitely going to hide at least some of this so I can avoid a lecture from my dad about getting cavities." Rummaging through in the sack to see exactly what candy she has gotten. Cassie makes a disgusted face when spotting a particular one she's not very fond of. Grabbing it, she holds it up for Gregory to see. "Ugh. I'm not a fan of Nerds."

"Really?" Asked a surprised Gregory. Nodding her head, Cassie says she'll trade it with him. Going through his own candy. Gregory founded one he was more than willing to trade with. The two made the trade and continued their trick-or-treating.

The two kids hit some more houses; their pillow sacks were starting to get heavy from all the candy they were getting. Gregory looked up at the sky and can see the sun was just setting over the horizon.

While he knew neither his mom nor Vanessa gave him a time limit for how long they can be out. He did know they wouldn't want them to be out for very long when it's dark. Feeling like they got enough candy. The brunette boy was going to suggest they head back to his place. But before the words could even leave his mouth. A sudden, blood curling scream made the two kids jump. Their heartbeats for a quick few seconds increased in speed.

Turning to face the direction where the scream came from. About three houses down the street is a house that's completely drenched in Halloween decorations! And these decorations were no joke. It looked like it was a legit abandon mental asylum.

At the front of the house. Both Gregory and Cassie can see a line of ten to fifteen people waiting to enter the faux asylum. Immediately the kids knew this was one of those haunted house attractions that some people in the neighborhood would make. To give people a real scare.

A couple of a teenagers could be seen exiting the house from the garage and head in their direction. As they walked by, Gregory and Cassie could hear one of the teenagers talk about how scary that whole thing was. The other one agreed with their friend, but then mentions they got some good prizes by reaching the end of it.

The mentioning of prizes peaked the kids' interest. "What do you think, Cassie? Should we give it a try?" Cassie looks at the house. Under the tiger mask her expression is one of slight hesitance. But she pushes that aside and says yes.

Getting in line, both of them realized now that they're the only kids there. Everyone else is either a late-age teenager or young adult. It did make them feel worried that they might not be allowed to enter. But there was only one way to find out for sure.

After several minutes of waiting, Gregory and Cassie finally make it to the front of the line. There was a woman dressed in casual clothes sitting on a chair next to the front door. She looked at the kids with a scrutinizing gaze. Debating if she should let them in or not given their age. But she shrugged her shoulders and let enter. Seeing no true harm in it.

The two kids step into the dark abyss of the fake asylum. There was actually a shift in the atmosphere the moment they entered inside. The walls are a dull white with splotches of dirt and blood. Not too far from them is a discarded, turned over wheelchair and something they now just noticed was how silent everything became. It was a stark contrast to the excited murmurs and whispers of the people waiting in line. Dreariness was the best word to use to describe the shift.

But knowing they couldn't go back. Both kids pressed on forward. After a couple of minutes of walking down the hallway. Gregory and Cassie were met with their first jumpscare. "AHHHHH! HAHAHAHAH!" A man dressed in a dirty, torn straight jacket and mask bellowed out as he suddenly emerged from a nearby room made to look a padded room.

In his hand, raised above his head is a blood-stained kitchen knife. Splitting the man's face is a large, manic smile. But said smile was starting to falter when he saw that the two kids he jumped at didn't react to him at all.

Gregory and Cassie looked at the man with blank expressions. Not even a single twitch or flinch to be seen. They glanced at each other for a quick second till continuing onward. The man watches them till they rounded a corner. "Kids and their video games." He scoffed.

When the two brunettes were a good few feet from the guy. They encountered another scary moment. Down the hall was a bloodied woman limping her way towards them. When spotting the children, she stretches a handout to them. "Please! Help me! I need help!" She begged, almost on the verge of tears. Just then a woman dressed in bloody scrubs and wearing a face mask approaches the woman from behind.

She grabs the woman who starts struggling to break free. "Naughty, naughty!" Said the nurse in a creepy, song-song voice. "You can't start breaking the rules before you're even admitted in our care." The woman screams and again begs for their help. The nurse drags the howling woman into a room and promptly shuts the door. The woman's cries were instantly silent.

Like with the man from before. Neither of the brunettes had a reaction to what they just saw. "Maybe this wasn't the best idea. None of this is really scaring us." Said Gregory. Removing the tiger head and holding it under her free arm. "Don't blame yourself Gregory. We've just experienced scarier stuff... only several months ago. That's bound to have some effect on us in our lives."

"I know. I just hope stuff like this," He gestures around the decorated hallway they're standing in. "Isn't completely ruined for us in the future." Giving her friend a reassuring smile. She says it won't and that they'll just need more time. She then suggests they keep moving.

After several more failed to scare them jumpscares. Gregory and Cassie finally make it to the end of the attraction. They can assume they're in the garage judging by the size of the room. Though right now it looks like an operating room. In the middle illuminated by a single, dim light is a large open chest. Next to the chest is a sign written in bold text that reads, "TAKE ONLY ONE!"

Peering into the chest. Two sets of eyes widen at what they see in it. Neither of the two expected anything like what they're seeing right now. They reach in and grab an item that appeals to them. They then exit the garage and are now outside again. By now the sun has fully set and Gregory suggests they head back to his place. Cassie agrees and the two head in the direction of the house.

Back at Gregory's home. Vanessa shuts the door after handing out the last of the candy to their last trick-or-treaters. Though before shutting the door, she puts up a sign saying they're out of candy. Walking into the leaving room and putting the bowl down onto the coffee table. Vanessa takes off her top hat, Poacher Duelist mask, and balaclava. "That's the last of the candy." She said.

From on the couch Roxxane snorts. "Honestly surprised we ran out. Thought there might be some left before the night was over. Glamrock Chica is going to be sad when she and Freddy get back."

Before Vanessa could sit on the couch with the wolf. There was another knock on the door, which confused the two. "Read the sign! We're out of candy!" Shouted Roxxane. The blonde gave her a glare. "It's us! Gregory and Cassie!" Gregory shouted back.

With the confirmation it was those two. They were let into the house. Not long after stepping into the living room both kids dumped their candy onto the floor. "Nice haul you two manage to get." Complimented Vanessa. "Of course, Cassie would get the best candy." Said Roxxane. Much to Cassie's joy.

After several minutes of trading candy. Both Gregory and Cassie put their respective piles back into their own pillow sheets. With that all done one of them asks what they should do next. Cassie suggests they can watch some Halloween specials. They all agreed and turned on the TV. In that moment the front door opens and stepping our Glamrock Freddy (dressed as Frankenstein's monster), Glamrock Chica (dressed as a witch), and lastly Gregeory's mom.

"Gregory, Cassie! You finished your trick-or-treating?" Asked Freddy. "I smell candy!" Excitedly said Chica as she made her way to the bowl on the table. Only to bawk in sadness when seeing it was empty. Then she eyed the two stuffed pillow sheets. "Chica!" Warned Vanessa.

Rebecca could only watch with a smile and say. "Happy Halloween everyone."

I know this is very late, but I got busy. However, I still wanted to finish it and upload it for you all to read. I was back and forth if I wanted conflict in this special. Like maybe bullies steal Gregory and Cassie's candy and they get the help of Vanessa and a few of the Glamrocks to help them get it back. But I decided against it and let the two kids just have fun. They went through a lot at the Pizzaplex. Like almost being killed several times a lot.

Originally Vanessa wore a Death Eater costume, and I actually wrote that scene. She was really hamming it up. But I've been playing lots of Hogwarts Legacy and when I encountered the Poacher Duelist for the first time. I thought they looked cool and when I realized they were women. I decided to change Vanessa's costume to a Poacher Duelist. X3

To those who recognize the costume Cassie is wearing. Yes, it's based off of Tiger Rock. To be more specific Tiger Rock that's on the front cover of the seventh book in the Tales of the Pizzaplex series. Tiger Rock in the story has a completely different outfit. Tiger Rock was everything except anything physical. So, to represent him I made him a costume in my story. I hoped I described it well as it's shown on the cover.

To address Gregory's and Cassie's little-to-lack of reaction in the haunted house attraction. That's the point, their adventure in the Pizzaplex has (but NOT completely) numbed them to fake danger. These kids were almost killed constantly in that place.

Here's what a Poacher Duelist looks like.

#five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's: security breach #gregory #cassie #vanessa #roxxane wolf #The Glam-Family #fanfic #fanfiction #my thoughts #montgomery gator #glamrock chica #glamrock freddy

5 notes · View notes

niemernuet · 2 years

Text

Two days late with my entry for the 24th week of the osws fandom challenge. 🙄 Last week's subject was:

winter sports mash-up! different athletes meeting and/or teaching each other their sport 🛷⛸🥌⛷🏂

I took inspiration from that time in 2016 when Max drove on snow.

rating: E pairing: Max Verstappen/Henrik Kristoffersen characters: Max Verstappen, Henrik Kristoffersen, Aksel Lund Svindal length: 3'000 words

The mood in the team is not the best when Max arrives, and thus perfectly mirrors his own. He does not care what it is exactly that makes everyone snap at each other, he is too busy trying to retract his fingers deep into the sleeves of his jacket to preserve what little feeling he still has in them. Something about the tyres, apparently. Buemi was sent ahead as test driver, and the engineers’ insinuation that he is not on the same level as Max has turned his head an impressive, unhealthy shade of red.

“If you think my work is so useless, why did you make me come here?” he barks. “I could be enjoying my holidays now but no, I had to come to this godforsaken place for this stupid project. I tell you, the spikes are too small! Nobody can drive a car on this surface, with this little traction, not me, not your prodigy, not Michael fucking Schumacher himself could do it!”

Max thinks that Schumacher is the last person on earth who could still drive a formula 1 car on any surface but he keeps his face neutral, and waits in the lobby of the hotel for whatever comes next. The town is busy with preparations for the races even though they are still more than one week away, with trucks and cars rolling through the narrow streets and avalanches of people covering the sidewalks as far as the eye can see. In comparison, the hotel feels like an oasis of peace, the staff moving around with determination yet reassuringly calm, making the few guests, other than the Red Bull engineers, feel relaxed and at peace. Two men enter the lobby, and Max follows them with his eyes. Even though he does not know the foggiest about skiing he recognises that they are professionals. The older man steps to the counter, and delves into a discussion with the receptionist while his younger companion stays a few steps behind, and inspects his gloves with a bored expression. His jacket cluttered with sponsor-patches around the chest is open and reveals a skin-tight race suit underneath. At first glance he seems thin, almost frail, his jaw bones competing with his nose for the sharpest angle sticking out of his face but Max realises that it is only an illusion. Lithe muscles move under the tight suit with every move of his legs, with every rolling of his shoulder. He knows his staring is glaringly obvious but he cannot take his eyes off those strong thighs and he wonders what they would feel like under his hands. His train of thought stops abruptly when the other looks up, and meets Max’ eyes. Max is used to a wide spectrum of reactions from other people; there is the wide-eyed ecstasy of those who follow Formula 1; or the questioning looks of those who know his face from the newspaper but cannot remember it, or the empty looks of those who have no idea who he is. The other guy, however, does not fall anywhere on this spectrum. He recognises Max alright but he is neither awed nor surprised.

He is amused.

Something tightens in Max’ chest at the sight of the faint smile, and he raises his chin to meet it head-on. They stay like that for a few seconds, locked together by an invisible band that snaps the moment Max’ ever-harried PA jogs around the corner, and ushers him along.

“I hope you read the papers I sent you,” he says, and in the same moment begins recapping the file currently resting somewhere at the bottom of Max’ suitcase because he knows his charge after all. “There’s two races here, well three actually, but you only have to bother about the two of them. One’s the downhill race, that’s the one everyone means when they’re talking about the legendary Streif. The other’s the so-called Super-G, similar route but not quite as difficult. The guy who’s contributing the skiing part of the movie won the Super-G once so far but never the downhill. He's a Red Bull athlete like you and as far as success goes quite high but not at the very top, think Alonso, or Räikkönen. You’re going to talk to him in front of the camera. It’s not really an interview, more like a dialogue. You tell him what it feels like to drive the car, and he will tell you…oh, hey, there you are! Hello, Aksel!”

The PA leaves Max’ side, and shakes the hand of a man Max remembers from the picture on the first page of the unread file.

“Pleased to meet you,” Aksel says, and they turn towards the exit.

Max throws one last look over his shoulders. The other guy is still standing there with the same amused smile, and Max feels it burn a hole between his shoulders as he hurries out of the hotel.

They shoot the short sequence at the top of the mountain, in a separate room of the restaurant near the start of the race. The clouds are hanging low, and Max can barely see where the snow-covered mountain ends, and the fog begins. His fingers lost the fight against the cold on the ride up in the gondola, and all he still feels is a painful prickling. Aksel is friendly, experienced, and most important of all self-aware enough to recognise his role in this stunt of Red Bull. He does not bat an eye at the fact that Max has painfully little knowledge about alpine skiing in general and Kitzbühel specifically, and effortlessly fills the gaps while also pretending to be utterly captivated by Max’ lengthy explanations about driving a Formula 1 car. They finish soon, and to Max’ relief take the next gondola into the valley.

“I hear you’re battling with the traction,” Aksel says with the same friendly smile as before.

Max shrugs, and pulls the sleeves over the icicles that used to be his fingers while his PA furiously types on his phone.

“Eh, it’s just the last details,” he says. “It’ll be straightened out by tomorrow.”

Aksel’s smile does not waver, and he nods. For a while they float through the air in silence.

“Are there other athletes here to practice?”

Aksel tears his eyes away from the race track far below. “Not that I know of,” he answers. “There is another race in Switzerland in a few days. I’ll be going there right after we tape my part tomorrow. But of course I don’t know everyone’s itinerary, so who knows.”

Max nods, and looks down onto the white-green carpet of snow-covered firs. He feels Aksel’s thoughtful eyes on him but before he can change the subject, Aksel has an epiphany.

“Oh, you mean Henrik? The guy in the lobby?” Aksel’s amusement is unmistakable, and Max immediately feels defensive.

Aksel chuckles. “Yes, he is here to practice, but not for the downhill race. Or the Super-G.”

Max frowns but he does not have to ask.

“Henrik Kristoffersen, slalom racer,” his PA butts in with the knowledge he acquired in preparation for this project and which his protegee has not bothered to learn. “The third race I told you about. It’s the slowest of all competitions and the most technical.”

“Exactly,” Aksel said. “And it’s rare that one athlete starts in all competitions. I tried it but I was always rubbish at slalom.”

Max nods, and looks out of the window again, trying to convey that he would like to finish this subject.

“Funny you should mention him,” Aksel smiles, and Max presses his lips together. “He reminds me of you.”

He tries to stay silent but of course his curiosity gets the better of him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Aksel says. “Both generational talents, both still in the shadow of better competitors…both challenging to work with...”

Max’ head whips around but Aksel’s annoyingly friendly smile looks the same as it has looked all afternoon. Luckily, the valley station finally deigns to arrive, and the cabin judders over the last mast before the doors open. Aksel shakes their hands and then hurries away to another appointment while Max still tries to climb out of the swaying gondola.

-----

The engineers keep going over the problem with the tyres all evening, and Max soon wishes them a good night. He does not return to his room though, he is not tired enough yet, and instead walks out into the cold once more. Golden light from the street lamps illuminates the snow and ice laying in patches on the ground. He walks through the alleys without really knowing where he is going, and eventually ends up in the finish area of the race. It is barely half-dnoe yet, the grandstands only a mountain of metal poles, and the big arch still deflated on the ground. The cold is creeping under his jacket and through his shoes again. He looks up the steep mountainside where the race track disappears in the black night. There are still people around but fewer than during daylight, and none of them take the time to stop.

Save one.

“And you’re going to drive down there?”

Max turns his head, and looks at the other guy, Henrik, standing next to him. He keeps his eyes fixated on the slope, as if Max is not important enough to look at. His hat looks much warmer than Max’ cap.

“Nah, I’m just doing a short course at the top of the mountain,” he explains.

Henrik snorts. “Of course. And then they’ll just edit it right.”

Max shrugs, and turns back to face the mountain.

“Though it’s not like I’m unhappy,” Henrik adds after a few moments. “I’ve been wondering all day how they want to put the track together again after you’d tear it up with your car. That explains it. I’d hate to do ski cross here.”

Max blinks, and looks at Henrik again. “You’ve raced here before?”

Henrik frowns, and finally reciprocates the look. “Many times.”

“But Aksel told me you don’t race downhill…”

Henrik rolls his eyes. “I don’t. But the slalom and the downhill end at the same place, genius. Here!” He points into the darkness, where apparently somewhere two tracks unite into one.

“Of course they’d take Aksel as comparison,” he sneers. “Let me guess, you’ve spent the afternoon stroking each other’s dicks while bragging how fast you can go.”

For a second Max thinks back to Aksel's words, and wonders if he should be insulted that he got compared to this abrasive jerk but in the end decides that he is probably in no position to do so. He catches Henrik's eyes, bright and fierce, and feels a new rush of hot excitement surge through his chest.

"We're both participating in sports where the fastest wins," he explains. "Sorry you can't join in on the dick-stroking. I take it slalom gets judged on execution and artistry."

The bright eyes become small, and Henrik's smile gets a dangerous slant. Max turns around, and begins the walk back towards the hotel; because he loses the feeling in his toes, not for any other reason.

He hears Henrik follow, and soon catch up to him. His stride is longer, more secure on the icy ground thanks to the sturdy boots he is wearing, and Max regrets that he only packed his usual sneakers. Henrik does not pay any attention to Max' footwear, or if he does he ignores it.

"Speed alone is nothing," he says. "It's boring. Downhill skiers step into their skis at the top of the mountain and then go down in a straight line. It's not one step above the capabilities of a five-year old." He turns his head slightly, and Max catches the faint grin spreading over his lips. "Or like driving a car in a circle."

Max bares his teeth in a joyless smile. "Go on!"

Henrik smiles, revealing a dimple in his cheek that somehow manages to make him look soft. "It's easy, really. In downhill, the heaviest athlete wins. In slalom, the best does. You're racing on the edge of the skis, at the very limit of what's physically possible. It takes skill, and experience."

Max bites back a remark about the similarities to formula-racing, knowing that it is exactly what Henrik wants. They take another turn, and finally their hotel appears at the end of the street. White clouds float into the air with every breath Max takes, and he cannot wait to get the feeling back into his toes.

"And yet everybody only remembers downhill," he says, and watches the smile vanish from Henrik's lips.

"The public gets what the public wants," he scoffs. "And they want something befitting their intelligence." He hesitates for a moment before he asks: "Who's the best formula 1 driver?"

Max looks Henrik in the eyes. "I am."

"And who's everyone talking about?"

He laughs, and another smile washes over Henrik's face. "I think I get it now."

They both laugh as they enter the lobby, and make their way towards the elevator. Max watches how Henrik fiddles with his key card. He still does not care about skiing in the least but he likes the unashamed determination and the confidence radiating from Henrik. It makes a man instantly ten times hotter, even if his face has too many sharp angles. The question comes easy to him.

"Want to come to my room?"

Henrik grins, and looks up. "Why?"

"I'm bored."

The door to the elevator opens, and they step inside. Max pushes the button to his floor while Henrik stays still.

"You don't have to prepare for tomorrow?"

"We're taping the drive the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow IS the preparation," Max explains, and shrugs. "I think I'll manage to learn how to drive with spikes in one day."

"You're using spikes?" Henrik asks. The elevator stops with a soft jolt, and they step out. "Shouldn't you be using chains?"

Max fishes his key card out of his jacket, and holds it against the reader. "What's the difference?"

Henrik snorts, and walks past Max into the room. "The difference is that spikes are for ice, and chains are for snow. Are you sure your mechanics know what they're doing? You can't…"

Max does not bother to find out what he cannot do, grabs Henrik by the shoulder and pulls him into a kiss. Henrik goes with it, and uses the momentum to push Max towards the bed, proving that he may be thin but not weak. When Max bumps against the bed frame and has to sit down they break apart. His hands wander up Henrik's thighs, feeling every sinew and muscle strand through the trousers. Henrik looks down at him, his lips slightly ajar, and Max looks up.

"Okay," Henrik mutters, and sinks on his knees. He waits as Max wriggles out of his pants, and kicks them across the room. Another smile creeps over his lips when he puts his cheek against Max' thigh, and feels the cold that still has not left his body.

"You are so not made for this," he mutters, and bites down into the soft flesh. Max bites back a moan, and sinks back until he is resting on his hands, watching transfixed how Henrik kisses and licks his way towards his half-hard dick. He takes him quick, without theatrics, and sucks him off almost efficiently. Max moves his weight a little, and buries one hand in Henrik's hair. It is long enough for him to hold onto, and still cool from the night outside. Familiar heat surges through his body and warms him up from the inside, pooling around his groin. He tries to move Henrik's head, urge him to go faster but it does the opposite, and Max hisses when his dick gets abandoned.

"Nice try," Henrik says, and pulls Max' hand away from his head. He guides it towards his dick, and wraps it around the shaft where he slowly moves it up and down.

"Want to do it like that?"

Max grins, and shakes his head.

"Then keep your hands to yourself!"

Max pulls his hand back, and as if nothing has happened, Henrik resumes his task. He sucks more urgently now, and it does not take long until Max' hips start to twitch, and his hips jerk upwards.

"Careful!" he rasps, and immediately Henrik's mouth leaves his dick, and is replaced by his hand. The friction rubs just right, and Max comes in spurts over Henrik’s hand.

They kiss again afterwards, it tastes just a little bit different, and Max blindly feels his way along Henrik’s trousers until he finds the button. He is hard, and gasps in Max’ mouth when cold fingers wrap around his cock.

“Fuck!” he laughs breathlessly, and ruts deeper into Max’ palm. It does not take long until he also comes, lips pressed tightly together, allowing himself barely more than a sigh. They catch their breath for a while, their foreheads pressed together.

“Still bored?” Henrik eventually asks, and leaves Max alone on the bed. He pulls his trousers up, and picks his jacket from the floor.

Max grins, and shrugs his shoulders. “Not yet. Will you be here tomorrow?”

Henrik shakes his head. He has his key card in his hand again, and turns it over and over. “I’ll be flying to Switzerland for the race.” He looks at Max one more time, his blue eyes small from smiling.

“Good luck.”

Henrik nods. “Thanks.”

The door barely makes a sound when he shuts it.

-----

The wheels of the car spin, and waves of snow shoot into the air. The cold seeped through the suit long ago but Max' anger is hot enough to keep him warm. He imagines Buemi's smirk if he could see him now, and he taps the gas softly in a new attempt to get the car going. In the end they have to haul it to the garage with one of the gigantic snow cats, and Max holds his fingers directly against the vent blowing warm air into the cabin. The engineers are arguing again, their tone getting more and more aggressive.

"Why don't we put on chains?" Max asks one of them, and tries to arrange all ten fingers evenly around the hot cup of coffee in his hands. "Works for other cars too, right?"

The question travels through the ranks until it reaches the lead engineer.

"And where the fuck are we supposed to get chains for tyres this size?" he yells. "And at this time? I haven't seen them in the new Pirelli catalogue!"

They arrive by chopper in the late afternoon, barely in time for one last test drive before the sun sets behind the mountains. When Max returns to the Garage again, Aksel and his camera crew stand near the entrance.

"I didn't think they'd get it," he says, and looks at Max with same friendly smile he has gotten to know. Max steps to him, and looks out over the legendary Streif, or at least the little bit that is visible from their place. From the other side of the valley, another chopper climbs through the sky and disappears beyond the mountains. Tomorrow the film crew would tape his run, and then he would be free to leave.

Finally.

#pushing the epilogue in spielberg six years later onto the ever-growing to-write-pile #not quite vibing w it all the way but it is what it is #osws fandom challenge #sports rpf #rpf #text #mine #f1 #alpine skiing #maxy #henrik kristoffersen #max verstappen

5 notes · View notes

italianexotiicbeauty · 1 year

Text

[ just sharing some writing from another platform that is for this character ( the metahuman ) there. ]

— Downtown Denver, Colorado. — 10:45 pm, mountain time.

Leaning against the black Yamaha supersport FJR1300A, dressed in her deep red hero suit — Mary could feel an ebb of unease in the night air. For the last two nights the streets had been way too quiet, it made her concerned. She didn't really want to think about it but . . . the moon hung in the night sky, its full brightness making shadows impossible. Maybe that's why it had been so quiet? Humans weren't affected by the full moon as once believed, that was an urban myth. She KNEW werewolves were but so far . . . none had popped up in her city. Then what had people staying inside late at night.

A flicker of white seemed to dash across the rooftops high above her, had she even noticed? From her peripherals, all she saw was rushed movement but not color. Stepping out from the alleyway a bit more, eyes trained up at the moonlit skyline — it happened again. A flash of white going from roof to roof, she froze. Now she understood WHY it had been so quiet in her city these past few nights, she's not mad though – should she be? There's 23 million square feet to cover — 11, 817 residents to look after, so some help from time to time wasn't a bad thing. At least not to her, even if that meant the police would be discovering a … body here and there. Maybe a better calculation was 1 body every two miles? The keyword there was m a y b e. It could be more than that, it really all depended on how many late night travelers were in danger.

Stepping back into the alley, retreating to the motorcycle and sliding into the seat. The engine revving to life when she turned the key, headlight illuminating the road before her. Within seconds she was on the road, speeding past all the closed shops and weaving through traffic until something on a shop’s display window caught her eye. Pulling up onto a nearby sidewalk, she parked the motorcycle and walked towards the shop in question. Briefly moving the domino mask up more onto her forehead - she was lucky that there wasn’t anyone walking on this side of the street right now ! Dark eyes narrowing as she removed a flashlight from the protective case that was hidden under the back of the seat. Angling the blue light in such a manner that the faded emblem on the display window became more visible to her, “... That’s what I thought it was.” Pulling back down the domino mask, her nails tapped the flashlight as she walked backto the motorcycle once more. Removing her phone from the same hidden case, she pressed the screen and waited as the call connected. “Francine? You there? I need you to look at something for me…”

“ What’s up buttercup? Whatcha need? “ The brunette was settled at home in front of her trio of computer screens, having tracked Mary’s movements through the GPS locator attached to her motorcycle and through that ? She was able to follow her movements consistently.Her left eye, the bionic one - was staring at the little square of the screen that she was standing in. Double tapping it, the screen enlarged and she squinted some while looking at the display window through the camera within the store. It was backwards, but she could still see whatever faded emblem had caught Mary’s attention. “ Hey -- is that a crescent moon on that window? ”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought I saw -- can you check other stores within however big a radius you can? See if any other stores in your network have this emblem on the display windows?”

“ Yeah yeah sure -- give me a few more minutes. Go after your not so subtly caped friend and ask him whatever questions are popping into your head. ” Immediately hanging up, Francine scooted closer to the desk and began typing furiously into the black box as it opened up on her third screen - typing in the search parameters for the algorithm and waited as it began to search every store camera or nearby camera that faced a storefront - included traffic cameras and atms - anything within the open network she had access to. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mary speeding down the road once more in another little corner of the traffic camera grid - heading towards wherever the familiar man in all white had disappeared to.

Stopping right in the middle of an empty intersection, Mary parked the Yamaha supersport and sat up straight in the seat. “You know …” She called out, hoping Moon Knight could hear her from wherever he had decided to perch. “ I hope you’re not thinking I’m carrying around a tin of your shoe polish with me, because that’s not exactly what I do while on patrol. Also, if you get into any scraps - I hate to break it to you but that shop vac and giant first aid duffle bag is back in New York in someone’s cab.”

#[ other site writing. ]#[ ooc. ]

0 notes

talenlee · 1 year

Text

The Seemingly Sudden And Impressive Presence of Actually Queer Anime Circa Right Now

Hey, do you know what I mean by ‘this user can say it?’

I want to say it’s a cohost meme but the idea is that there are some words that get treated as cursed or slurs or dangerous magical words that are reclaimed slurs, in the mouths of people who can reclaim them. Simply put, if I, a bi dude, want to make a joke where I use the word faggot, fuck off telling me I shouldn’t. And this led to the joke that ‘This User Can Say It’ was a flag that signalled that whether or not an individual wanted to out themselves in any specific way, they had the rights to use particular terms.

But I’m not here to talk about slurs I’m here to talk about anime. It should be no surprise to anyone who pays attention to the trends on this blog (so, Tab, gotyaoi, me) that there’s a low key anxiety about doing too much on this blog about too many anime. It wasn’t intentional but I’ve just been watching more this year and that means more of this year has been talking about anime.

Here then is a list of anime that won’t show up in the Story Pile, but absolutely Can Say It.

Birdie Wing

Yugioh Golf Lesbians. It’s Yugioh Golf Lesbians. I can’t believe that’s a useful summary of a real anime that exists and that it’s actually good, but believe it or not, Yugioh Golf Lesbians is a real thing, it really exists and it’s really enjoyable. The characters have crushes on one another, they are awkward about that relationship, they want to be around one another and tease each other and oh and also someone assassinates a golfer with a bazooka.

This series is silly in so many ways. Birdie Wing was going to be a June Story Pile. I wound up bumping it, not because it wound up being unworthy of being a Pride Month series, but just because it’s currently ongoing and if it’s a good two-season anime I’d rather watch them all at once and make a single unified block of it. Also, when I have as many possible options in front of me as I do, even a modest reason like ‘do both seasons at once’ is a good reason.

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury

See also Birdie Wing. I really like Witch from Mercury! I think it owns bones! It has some truly heroic moments and the action is beautifully constructed and intense and oh my god I love these characters so much, and I love the setup for the second season that the first season left hanging, particularly because I can see a lot of a familiar experience in Suletta.

No, I was never a lesbian mecha pilot, I’m sorry.

Still, everyone gets a favourite Gundam I think and god damn if Witch From Mercury might be mine. Or 0080, I gotta finish that one. It’s also just so exquisitely good looking. I’m used to mecha anime having some fuzziness or sloppiness depending on when they show up. Late 90s mecha anime often relied on blockiness of the mecha to cover for animation errors, and mid 00s often were relying too much on 3D models that stood out. Whatever they’re doing in Witch From Mercury looks so good on its own.

I really look forward to seeing if this one has a coherent, solid throughline. But if it’s got a tragic end I don’t want to cover it in a Pride Month because we have time enough for queer tragedy the rest of the year. Let Pride Month be things that are cool and rule, and I hope that next year, that will include Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury.

Also, I get to double dip and maybe it’ll be a smooch month series because so many smooch month series fail to hold my attention because they don’t have sick ass mecha battles.

The Executioner And Her Way Of Life

If you watch the opening of this series and think hey does this get gay, let me assure that yes, yes it does, this is an anime that can say it, and will say it, and offers you its hand as it leads into a light novel series that gets not only canonically and repeatedly gay, but it’s gay in a way that I think resonates pretty hard with say, anyone who’s had a long distance relationship over the internet.

I think this series kinda rules! It will get an entry, you will be able to see it sometime this year! But also, it feels like this anime is set up to put every piece in place and explicitly outline a queer kiss, and it’s a very enjoyable narrative with a really enjoyable set of pieces all being positioned around one another…

and then slams the book closed before the relationship progresses. You get to see a queer yearning, a queer plan, a queer crush… but not queer love. Not queer life.

You do get to see a giant centipede monster girl though.

Do It Yourself

For reasons that make more sense when it happens, I already covered Do It Yourself. This is a series that Can Say It, but also doesn’t, which is a bit of a bummer considering the series is otherwise very wholesome and very sweet. It still owns an interesting spot in history which means it needs to live alongside another article.

It’s been written, it’s in the scheduler, it’s going to happen in time.

Princess Connect: Re-Dive

I don’t imagine I’ll ever write about Princess Crincess Rincess Dincess. I got it because the game attached to it shut down and I thought it’d be interesting watching an anime tie-in and see what you can assume or extrapolate about the game based on that. That idea didn’t wind up working out, because Redive Of A Princess Connection is just a pretty sweet, middlingly funny unimpressive anime, which means, eh, nah, not gunna bother talking about it. If you like cute girls that get thirty seconds of screen time each and the same four jokes each episode, then yeah, that’s this.

However, as a Pride anime, it does have a metatextual thing. See, Connection of A Princess and Her Redived Life is a sequel series to a game subplot, and it’s explicitly about the world resetting from a point in the game, changed in a way that means the villain kinda wins.

In the game, that villain is a dude. In Princess Connect But The Pryncess is Gwyn, the same villain with the same name is not a dude.

Trans girls will literally defeat the hero and reboot the world to get nice hair, and I think that’s admirable. It certainly sounds easier than putting up with the way doctors dole out the support.

My Master Has No Tail

I really liked My Master Has No Tail, which is a fun little anime about a Tanuki Girl who learns how to perform Rakugo theatre from a disillusioned kitsune pretending to be a human. This series kind of rules and it’s got this ongoing thread through it about people sustaining illusions about who they are, about how they interact with the world, and how they engage with art. Simply put, this is an anime that wants to be about how people are fooled and how we like to be fooled.

Unsurprisingly, this shows up in Tricks Month.

My Master Has No Tail doesn’t say it, but it absolutely could.

There! A bunch of stuff! If you’re just looking for queer anime to check out, and maybe if you want to see if you’re into them the way my articles wind up shaking out, you should check them out!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #Media

0 notes

ahloveisboo · 3 years

Text

game on (m)

pairing: gamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (soonyoung makes an appearance)

genre: smut (18+), established relationship, cock warming but make it soft, comfort sex, unprotected sex, swearing, implied auditory voyeurism if that is A Thing but it doesn’t have to be if you’re not into that.

wc: 2.1k

summary: it’s been a shitty day and all you want to do is be close to wonwoo.

a/n: i literally finished writing this last night and this morning i stumbled onto THIS. which i had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT and i want you to know that is exactly how i pictured him and i’m in l*ve with him and i would give him my left arm if he ever needed it

"I can't fucking do this anymore."

You puff the hair out of your eyes as your bag clatters to the floor, your jacket aggressively thrown onto a chair even though you and Wonwoo had agreed to not let clothes linger around the house.

The love of your life is lounging on the sofa—clad in a simple t-shirt and shorts, a headset on top of his unkempt hair, and a PlayStation controller in his hand. There are a few empty cans of soda littered around the furniture, and a scented candle burning on the coffee table to his right.

"Wonwoo," you whine, a dramatic pout etched on your lips. You're irritated, to say the least, and it weighs down on your limbs as you shuffle closer to the sofa. With each step though, your annoyance miraculously fades, and the final remnants of any unease melt away when your lover reaches a hand out to you, beckoning you closer.

"Oh hey, sweet cheeks," he greets you, his eyebrows shooting up in pleasant surprise. "I didn't expect you home so early."

You know you should've given him a heads-up. "I took the afternoon off," you explain as you come up to straddle his lap, cupping both cheeks with your palms before planting a firm kiss on his lips. It crooks the glasses on top of his nose a little, but he doesn't seem to mind. You feel the corners of his mouth perk up, and you can't help but follow suit. Leaning back a little, you brush his choppy fringe out of his face, letting your hand rest at the nape of his neck. "I couldn't handle one more second of old men assuming they can do my job better than me."

"Dude, stop feeling up your girlfriend, I need cover," a voice comes over the mic, blaring straight into his headphones. Wonwoo clicks his tongue.

"If your point was to sound bitter about having to nut into your own fist every night, you succeeded," Wonwoo retorts before easily picking off an enemy right behind on-screen Soonyoung. You make yourself smaller, so he gets a full view of the tv. "You're welcome," he adds, and Soonyoung's laughter can be heard coming from the other side of the voice chat.

"Touché."

"You're so cool," you murmur against the skin of his collarbones, neatly settling further onto his lap. "And such a nerd. But like, the hot kind." At this, he barks out a laugh; the sound like music to your ears.

It takes a little squirming and trying to make yourself fit into his embrace without interrupting the game too much, and you sigh in content when you find the perfect position. Wonwoo's hips buck up on instinct as you move around, and he shoots you an apologetic smile when you brush your lips against his jaw in response.

"It was just…. A really shitty day, you know," you say in tiny, the words barely a whisper as you lazily rock against him. Wonwoo instantly picks up the hint, already hardening underneath you.

He pushes his mic up, muting it in one swift motion so Soonyoung doesn't overhear. “Do you want to fuck?”

You nuzzle into his neck, lazily nipping at the skin. “I just want to feel you, I think.”

Wonwoo manages a soft chuckle and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Give me a second to end the game."

"It's okay," you say, as his hand moves to unmute his mic. "You can continue playing if you want."

The look he gives you in response is almost comical. "I'll sit still, I promise." You give him a quick peck on the lips, and Wonwoo's reluctance dissolves in an instant.

Shifting uncomfortably, you take off your jeans as Wonwoo pulls down his shorts, cock visibly strained against his briefs now. He curtly speaks into his mic, taking note of something Soonyoung's character just did on-screen behind you.

A few seconds pass before you move, taking in all of Wonwoo before you first. He's always been handsome—his sharp features turning more than a few heads. He's bulked up since you first got together (which made him even sexier if that was possible), with his shoulders now broader and his arms toned to perfection, but your favourite part of him has always been his eyes. There's something inherently gentle about them; a warm brown colour that shines whenever he laughs, or darkens whenever he glances up at you from between your legs.

Something clenches in your chest when Wonwoo turns to meet your gaze, a smile on his lips. Something similar happens in your gut when he reaches out to touch you over your panties. The gesture isn't demanding or lustful, and you sigh into the feeling.

Wonwoo slips past your folds, two fingers checking if you're slick enough to take him without extra help. The corner of his mouth tugs into a smirk, but he swallows the words on the tip of his tongue, knowing they don't fit the mood you're after.

As soon as he fills you up, your form slacks against his chest. It's comforting in having him this close, being this intimate with the man that makes your heart burst in the best way possible. Your arms snake around his waist, your cheek now resting against his shoulder.

"Can you move forward just a tiny bit so I can koala-wrap myself around you?" you mumble against the fabric of his shirt, and there's a sharp intake of breath from him when he lifts his hips to comply, his cock moving inside you.

Soonyoung mistakes it for a disappointed reaction to his failed offence, and you can hear his voice through the headphones over Wonwoo's ears. Wonwoo is quick to reply, his low tone reverberating through his chest and vibrating against your cheek.

Another thing you love about him, that voice of his. You could listen to him talk for hours. Which you hope he does, and is the reason you told him to keep playing in the first place.

There's no sound but the dull clicking of Wonwoo's controller and machine-gun fire coming from his headphones for a while, and you can feel your body begin to relax—all the tension previously stored between your shoulder blades now slipping off you, like raindrops sliding down a window.

Wonwoo's a decent size; not too big to sting when he first fucks you, but big enough to always make you feel so full, so satisfied. It's something you're not afraid to reiterate every so often, which he appreciates in the right context (you once let it slip at movie night when you were beyond horny, and Wonwoo had to excuse himself ten minutes later because he had no idea your mouth could be so foul, and he didn't want his friends to see the obvious problem in his pants).

He lasts longer than you thought he would—too caught up in his game to notice how every little move he makes in reaction to whatever is unfolding on screen is starting to affect you. It's subtle, the way he moves inside you, but the thrusts are sharp and clean as he moves the controller to one side and back, his body jolting forward when Soonyoung fails to cover him and his screen flashes red. It isn't until you clench around him, that he stills.

As your fingers tangle into his hair at the base of his neck, you tilt your head, waiting for a quiet moment to lift his headphones just enough to tell him, "Okay, now I want to fuck."

To accentuate the words, you gently lift your hips, sinking back down just as slowly, only to repeat the action once more. Wonwoo groans in response, his hand gripping your waist to stop you, and you lean back to watch his face for any signs that he might not want this. You interpret his actions as rejecting your advances, but soon he's pushing up your t-shirt to grope at your breasts, and you moan when he thumbs over one of your sensitive nubs.

"I heard that," Soonyoung's voice comes over the headset, and you're already too worked up to care. Wonwoo smiles when you roll your hips, grinding onto his cock in slow motions. He licks his lips, gaze trained on yours as he drops the controller onto the floor.

"Goodbye, Soonyoung," he says into the mic before taking off the headset, not even bothering to mute it.

You half expect him to be rough. To pin you down on the sofa and rail you into oblivion. Instead, he kisses you. The kind of kiss that makes your head spin—slow and hot, his tongue lapping against yours languidly. There are little, sweet pecks in between. One on your nose, one on your cheek, one on your eyelids, and you giggle into the kiss when he pulls you back in for what seems the nth time. His cock is still buried inside of you, snug and warm, unmoving, until you buck your hips to meet his and he groans.

“Quit stalling, Jeon,” you sigh into his mouth. Your teeth graze along his lower lip before stopping at the corner of his mouth, kissing the edge of his smile. “If you don’t touch me this instant, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

He glances between you, to where your bodies meet, and gently lifts his hips to move out of you. “I bet I could make you cum untouched right now,” he says, tentatively swiping a finger between your folds again. You quiver in his arms, already too sensitive from having him inside you for so long, and you hate how he’s probably right.

“Maybe so, but where’s the fun in that?”

“I get to use my dirty talk voice,” he offers, already lowering his tone to make a point. “Tell you all the things I would do if I were to touch you.” You clench around nothing, suddenly feeling too empty to your liking. “You can blow me after.”

Every nerve in your body is on edge, skin crawling in anticipation, and you desperately want to say no. But Wonwoo’s eyes are sparkling as he hovers over you, and god, he’s so fucking hot. At this point, you are positively soaked, pussy throbbing and aching for his touch, anything he’d be willing to offer, and he’s still smiling at you.

“Fuck me now and I’ll still blow you after.”

Wonwoo pouts, but instinctively lowers himself to kiss you when you hook your ankles behind his back, pulling him closer to you again. When he pushes back in, you’re scared you won’t last long. You tell him as much, and he shakes his head in feigned disbelief. “Quelle surprise,” he mocks, and he jerks his pelvis forward, easily bottoming out before pulling back out, repeating to build up a steady rhythm. It’s agonisingly slow, his cock curving just the right way to hit the spot over and over again, and your breath hitches with every thrust. “Want me to go faster?” he asks, tongue lapping at the abused skin right below your collarbone, where his mouth just successfully marked you as his. You shake your head no, unable to speak.

As tension builds in your abdomen, your eyes fall shut, your eyebrows knit together, and your lips shape into a silent O. Wonwoo feels his heart rate increase when your breath starts to shudder with every exhale. He can tell you’re trying to hold back your moans and he really wishes you wouldn't. “Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice cracking as he pushes into you again. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want- hnnng, fuck,” you manage, right when his thumb presses down on your clit, and your back arches off the sofa. “Keep going. I’mhhmmmmm- almost there.”

A few more trusts have you toppling over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. Wonwoo presses his lips to yours, swallowing the moans that finally push their way out of your throat. Your thighs shake as he ploughs into you a few more times, finally picking up speed to chase his own climax.

It's not long until Wonwoo half collapses on top of you, chest to chest, and he chuckles as both of you struggle to catch your breath.

"Still want me to suck you off?" you ask, half in jest, but you did promise.

He pushes a stray lock of hair from your sweaty forehead, his hand stopping to rest against your cheek. "Maybe later." You beam at him and suddenly the room falls quiet, now that your breathing has levelled out. There's a faint rattle of gunfire coming from behind the sofa, and you exchange glances as something dawns on you both.

"Did you mute your—"

“Oh shit, Soonyoung—“

#caratwritersclub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenario #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenario #wonwoo x reader #i had to get this one out of my system thanks #the more i read it the more i doubt it so i'm just going to. PRESS POST.

1K notes · View notes

divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

virtue and vice

Summary: What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-size (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (vaginal fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, bit of a Dom Bucky Barnes), language, insecurity (weight issues, a little perceived fatphobia which is wiped out really soon after)

Word Count: 6120

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested a Bucky/Plus-sized reader enemies to lovers who have to share one bed with smut. I loved this request and really hot to make something hot and rough and fast! Thank you so much for the request - enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

It finally happened, the one thing you prayed would never ever happen, the thing you’ve been dreading since you started joining James Buchanan Barnes on his stealth missions, the event that will inevitably spark your downward spiral into doom, destroying the crumbs of the relationship you’ve managed to build with him.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, barreling through the motel room like a ping pong ball with a little too much pent up energy.

You shrug your bag off your tired shoulder, letting it fall to the ground, not caring about how dirty the carpeting must be.

“At least it’s a queen,” you say, toeing off your boots. “I’ve had worse with Steve.”

Bucky turns to glare at you over his shoulder. “You’ve shared a bed with Steve?” he says, accusation rising in his tone. You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“I’m sorry—are you saying you haven’t? ‘Cause I call bullshit on that.”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to sift through his duffel bag instead. You shrug despite the fact that he can’t see you.

“I mean, it’s pretty routine, isn’t it? I’ve shared with Natasha, too. Sometimes you just have to make do.”

“Yeah but it’s Natasha,” he says like it matters. “I can’t believe you’ve slept with Steve.”

“God, Bucky, it’s only weird if you make it weird, and you’re making it weird.”

He straightens now, body stiff, one of his hidden holsters hanging from his vibranium hand. He doesn’t look at you and you’re too tired to start a fight—much less finish it—so you hope he just goes ahead and fucks off to the shower which you know he’s getting ready to do. He’s always been selfish like that. But it’s also not so selfish, you think, for someone like Bucky to want to wash the missions away as soon as possible.

But the bastard could ask sometimes, couldn’t he?

“I’m going first,” he says, just like always, and you bite your tongue.

“‘Kay.”

You turn and sigh, focusing your glare on the one bed filling the motel room. If there was one thing you always hoped for after a mission, it was not to end up in the same bed as James Barnes. The two of you notoriously don’t get along, for whatever reason that may be (although you’re pretty sure it has to do with the fact that he thinks you’re a useless addition to the team), but there is literally no denying the attraction you felt for him.

The man is hot, and he’s had a couple, or maybe most, of the screws in his head knocked loose.

You have it bad for him.

Oh, but James Barnes is not fond of you. Not that he would ever admit it, but the dude has some serious fatphobia going on. You’re ninety-nine-percent sure of that.

Alone in the bedroom, you start to strip out of your tac-suit, letting your gun belt and the rest of your holsters fall in a ring around your feet. As soon as the heaviness is off you, relieving some of the ache in your body, you think about just falling straight into the bed blood and dirt and grime and all. But you’re also sure Bucky would lose his mind if you did that.

Instead, you look to the floor length mirror just in front of the motel door, frowning.

Your skin-tight suit doesn’t do much to hide all the lumps and bumps and dips and hips all squished into it, and when you’re covered in tiny cuts and burns on every visible patch of skin, you can’t help but think about how Bucky sees you.

The useless fat Avenger! How fun.

You turn to the side a little, glancing at the fullness of your ass. Nice. A redeeming quality of the extra weight you carry atop the strong muscle you’ve built in your short time as part of the Superhero Menagerie. Not having a gimmick of any kind really forced you into working for the position—and now you’re not just the useless fat chick, you’re the super hacking, super gun toting, mega-badass fat Avenger instead.

The shower squeaks and the water stops, signaling the end of Bucky’s shower.

You look up to the ceiling, praying to some god to hear you that everything will work out just fine.

And then Bucky exits the bathroom, steam flooding from the room, wrapped only in a thinning motel towel secured by his metal hand at his waist. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen his chiseled figure, but there’s something that jumps up your throat at the thought that you have to shower in that same shower and then sleep in the same bed as the bed that body is sleeping in.

Oh, fuck.

“All yours,” he murmurs, not even looking at you.

“Great.” You grab your change of clothes and head for the bathroom, trying to think about anything except him.

When you smell less like blood and asbestos and more like strawberries and peaches, hair damp and a clean t-shirt and sleep shorts sticking to your heat-splotched body, you enter the bedroom once again. Bucky is sitting against the headboard, going through his phone now that you’re both safe and secure in France, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants.

Okay, act cool. Just get into bed and pretend like it’s not weird.

You pad over to the bed, grimacing at the feel of the gross carpet beneath your clean feet, hopping beneath the sheets as quick as possible. If Bucky looks at you, then you don’t see it, because you are focused solely on not looking at him. Petty? Perhaps. Keeping your sanity intact? Absolutely.

“You tired?” he asks and you snort.

“Extremely. You don’t have to turn off the light if you aren’t ready to sleep, though.” You situate yourself as far on the edge of the bed as possible—something you’ve never done with any of the other people you’ve been forced to share a bed with. You and Natasha aren’t new to sleeping together, especially after some of the nights out you’ve shared, but you and Steve definitely cuddled, though you wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Steve’s just kinda lonely, you think. And to be honest, you’re a little touch-starved yourself.

But you know you take up a lot of space and you’re sure Bucky hates that, so you bury yourself under the motel sheets and snuggle up to your pillow, trying to make yourself as small as humanly possible.

After a moment, Bucky asks, “Are you comfortable like that?”

You crack an eye open and twist to look at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t you tell me not to make it weird? You’re making it weird now.”

“You already made it weird.”

“I’m trying not to make it weird anymore.”

“A little late for that—”

“God, just, c’mere.”

Bucky grabs you around your waist, your shirt riding up, and pulls you closer. You shriek in surprise, eyes wide, as he manhandles you until you’re away from the edge and your back is pressed against his bare chest.

“There—that’s better,” he says, nearly whispering in your ear he’s so close to you now. He unwinds his arm from your middle and reaches up to hit the light, the room going completely dark save for the little sliver of artificially light pouring in from underneath the shitty curtains.

You don’t even know what to say. Bucky’s rendered you completely speechless.

First of all, the man has never touched you for no reason like that before. Second of all, how the hell did he just move you like you weighed the same as the pillow beneath his head? Third of all, he hates you, so why is he so bothered about you and your comfort? Fourth, he just moved you around like you weighed literally nothing.

And boy, did it send a flood of pleasure straight to your core, almost as if your body just gave the green light to your libido. The perfect time too, y’know, when you’re sharing a bed with your co-worker who hates your guts.

Play it cool. Just play it fucking cool.

“Uh, are you okay?” you ask him in return, and Bucky shifts so his back is pressed up to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay. Good night.”

“Night.”

What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Your brain turns and turns and turns, body straining to stay as still as possible to not upset the super soldier sleeping right beside you. What does he have against you? Why does he hate you so much? You really thought once you started going on more missions—proving you were worthy to be a part of the team—that he’d start coming around and seeing your value. But you feel like all it’s served is to make him hate you more, especially now that you tag along on his stealth operations as his techie.

Maybe he knows you’re into him, and maybe that’s why he never wants to be around you. But, god, it’s not like you think you have a chance with him in any capacity, and you’d pass up tens of thousands of chances to be with him if he’d just be your friend!

Because Bucky deserves another friend, doesn’t he?

As if he can read your mind—or maybe it’s just god playing tricks on you—Bucky shifts around in the bed again, turning toward you. You don’t know if he’s sleeping yet or not, but you curl in on yourself a little to give him more space to stretch out.

Bucky’s vibranium arm slides over your waist, cool metal grazing by the sliver of skin peeking out from underneath your shirt, and when you flinch from it, he pulls you flush against him. Behind you, the bare skin of his chest is warm, almost too hot. Super soldiers run warmer than normal humans, and you think he’d be nice to have in bed more often.

In your ear, Bucky groans in his sleep and it makes you shiver despite the heat radiating through your back. He must be like Steve, wanting to cuddle in his sleep. No one ever wants to admit it out loud, but you’re the best thing to cuddle in the Tower. Being squishy and soft atop hard, strong muscle means you’re more comfortable than all the rigid bodies of the Avengers. Maybe Bucky needs this.

But you wish you could fall asleep so you’ll stop thinking about how much you’ve wanted this since the day you saw him, the new Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, hair tied up in a messy bun and stubble thick and dark, vibranium arm hidden within the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Suddenly, everything is too hot. The room, the motel sheets, the pillow beneath your head. Bucky Barnes behind you, arm slung over your body, holding you to him. He’s sleeping, you know, the quiet rumble of his breathing a song in your ear, chest rising and falling against your back. You shift a little, trying to get more comfortable as the warmth starts to become unbearable. When that doesn’t help, you shift again, trying to pull your back away from Bucky, but it sends your bottom half straight into his.

A growl brushes by your ear all breathy and low and Bucky’s arm tightens around you, bringing you back to him.

Damn, who knew Bucky was such a cuddler when he’s sleeping?

You wait a few minutes, keeping still, until you’re sure he’s slipped back into unconsciousness. His nose is nearly pressed into your hair, his breaths upsetting the small wisps of hairs that curl at your ear. Sweat is starting to collect underneath your shirt where your bodies are connected and you know you’ll never be able to fall asleep like this.

Again, you shift toward the edge of the bed, trying to pull yourself out of Bucky’s grasp, but he drags you back into his embrace. The swell of your ass meets his thigh and in a panic, you move around to try and put space between the two of you again, but Bucky lets out a strangled-sounding groan, hissing through his teeth.

“You gotta stop moving, doll, or you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

He is not asleep.

“Bucky?” you squeak, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Hm?” His metal hand sneaks underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your soft skin and thumb starting to rub little circles just above your hip, a point of pleasure on your body. No one ever touches you here, and it takes everything you have not to press back into him, asking for more. Your breathing is heavier now as you try to control yourself.

“You aren’t—Why aren’t you sleeping?” you ask, sounding winded from the simplest act of him touching you.

“Hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” he murmurs in your ear, nose brushing up against the patch of skin behind it. Your eyes flutter closed. Every small touch feels like heaven. You never allow others to touch you more than necessary, but now Bucky is handling you so gently.

“I can’t sleep either,” you whisper. “Do you want me to go? I can take a walk.”

He makes a noise of disapproval. “Just stay still,” he says, almost begging. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s hot,” you whine. “You’re too hot.”

You can feel him smirk into the back of your neck. “You don’t gotta tell me, doll.”

“Shut up,” you say with a huff of frustration, wiggling in the bed to get your point across. Immediately, Bucky’s vibranium hand falls to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough for the flash of pain to turn to pleasure, holding you still.

“I said stop moving,” he says, and it's so close to a command that your teeth tear into your bottom lip as his voice sends shocks through your core. Now, hyperaware of how close your bodies are underneath the sheets, you realize your ass is pressed against his pelvis, not his thigh, and you’ve definitely been—

Bucky grinds into you, seething, breath ghosting over your ear, his cock hard and heavy in his sweatpants.

Wetness pools between your thighs, dampening the thin cotton panties you wear beneath your sleep shorts.

“Bucky,” you breathe his name. “What are you doing?”

“So tired of you teasin’ me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “I’ve put up with it for so long—too long—and I just knew you were gonna do it tonight, too. Only one fucking bed. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

Your voice sounds so small when you whisper, “What are you talking about?”

Then Bucky lays a kiss to the back of your neck, trailing upward until he reaches the lobe of your ear, and pulls it into his mouth and between his teeth. You shiver, violently, unable to stop the reaction. It must please him because he yanks your hips back into him again, forcing you to grind on his bulge.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, muffling whatever sounds threaten to fall from your lips.

“Doll, you’ve been teasin’ me from the beginning. From the moment I saw you in your gear on the Berlin mission, all your curves on display in that tight little cat-suit you’re always wearing, armed to the teeth, handling all those guns looking so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You swallow hard. The Berlin mission, your first stealth mission with Bucky, had gone sour and the two of you found yourselves in a gun fight that was never meant to happen. You’re pretty sure you walked back onto the quinjet covered in blood, bruised, and a gash in your thigh that made you wobble when you stood up, and Bucky didn’t even look at you as per usual. Bucky never looks at you on missions unless he absolutely has to.

Wait.

“Is that why you never look at me?” you ask him, and you wish you could see his face right now, but all you can feel is his lips as they pepper kisses along the column of your throat, coaxing shudders and little squeaks out of you.

“You expect me to look at you without wanting to jump your bones, doll?” His nose caresses the spot at the top of your spine, his fingers melting at your hip and soothing the bruises you’re sure he’s already left. “That’s just askin’ too much, baby. How am I supposed to look at you and stop myself from kissin’ you silly?”

Pleasure flutters through your stomach, surging through the apex of your thighs.

“Then do it,” you tell him. Bucky goes still, unmoving, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too hard.

But then his voice is low, dark, in your ear. “You don’t know what you’re saying, doll.”

The honey dripping from your center, pooling in your underwear, says very differently. Instead of answering, you press your ass back into him, gyrating your hips straight upon his pelvis, rubbing against his clothed cock. Bucky chokes.

And then he’s up and above you, rolling your body beneath him, caging you between his arms. You nearly gasp when you look up at him, his blue eyes intense in a way you’ve never seen them before, his lips pink and swollen from biting—you’re sure yours look the same and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

Bucky leans closer, his mouth only inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes threaten to flutter shut in anticipation but you force yourself to look at him, to take all of him in.

“If you want this, I won’t be able to hold myself back, doll. Wanted you too long. Need you.”

Then, he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“But if you don’t,” he swallows, “then we’ll forget this ever happened, and everything will go back to normal.”

Fuck that.

“Kiss me, sergeant,” you command, hand shooting up to tangle in his thick hair.

Bucky curses and then he’s on you before you have a chance to reach up and meet him halfway. His lips are rough, chapped, but plush and perfect against yours. He wastes no time, tongue licking into your mouth and meeting yours, tasting you for the first time. You respond eagerly, hand fisting in his hair, pulling him into you until you can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins.

When he’s satisfied with how kiss-drunk you look, lips swollen and eyes hazy, he moves to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, causing you to cry out. The pain and the pleasure mingle, like lovers, like you and Bucky, as his fingers take hold of your shirt and in one tug, the fabric pulls apart at the seams.

You don’t care—you can buy a new shirt. You need him to touch you.

Until you realize you aren’t wearing a bra and that your top half is completely bare to Bucky, the man who, before a minute ago, you thought hated you because you were fat. Because it was the only explanation you had. Because you’re insecure.

Your hands fall upon his chest, bracing against him, stopping him in his tracks. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, brows drawn together in confusion, and all you can do is try and cover yourself with your arms before he gets a peek. It’s dark, but super soldiers can see in the dark. A blessing and a curse.

“I don’t want you to look at me,” you whisper so quietly you realize no normal person would have been able to hear it. “I’m—I shouldn’t have let you—I’m so fat, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes you, his flesh hand coming up to cradle your cheek, fingers brushing delicately over your skin. “You don’t believe me when I say I want to see you? Doll, your body drives me insane, and god, every time you get an attitude with me and you put your hands on your hips and you look at me all mad…”

Bucky groans and he rocks his pelvis into yours, hard cock hitting your center and making your breath hitch.

“You’re beautiful, baby. Gorgeous. Do you know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes ‘cause you’re just so pretty? More than pretty, I don’t even know the words to tell you, baby. Please, please don’t hide yourself from me, let me look at you, let me touch you, baby. S’all I want to do is look at you for the rest of my life.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s thumb swipes a tear away and you blink, and he’s smiling at you so warmly, really looking at you, maybe for the first time ever since you’ve known him.

“You think so?” you ask, breathless. “Even though you’re so—so good, Bucky, so beautiful and so good.”

He rests his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, your essence, your soul. You nuzzle into his palm, kissing the center of his skin where his lifeline sits among other small scars. Then, you pull your arms away from your body, moving to wrap them around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as you tip your chin up to slant your mouth over his. Bucky returns your enthusiasm, tongue meeting yours sweetly, and then metal fingers are trailing up your side.

Bucky pulls away, searching your eyes for consent.

“Say you’re mine,” he begs. “Say you’re mine, baby, but if you do, I won’t be gentle.”

You look up at him from underneath your lashes, already heady with the feeling of Bucky wanting you, desiring every part of you.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, and the mood in the room shifts violently.

In an instant, Bucky pulls your arms away from where they’re wound around his neck and pins them over your head, metal fingers locked around both your wrists. It makes you arch into him and then his nose is tracing your sternum, a line down your center, cutting you in half until his flesh hand attaches to your breast and his lips find your nipple.

Just like he said, he’s not gentle, and it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, lids fluttering, as his teeth nip and tug at the delicate bud. His tongue follows the performance, sucking and soothing the pain away with sweet licks until he’s bored and moves onto the other one.

He lifts his head up to say, “Don’t move your hands,” and then his vibranium fingers find the hardened, sensitive nub and begin to twist and pull at it as his lips play with the other. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain is a shocking reminder of who is playing your body like a symphony. You arch your breasts toward him, you roll your hips up to meet his bulge, you do anything you can to relieve the pressure that’s building in your core, screaming at you that you need his touch.

“Bucky,” you call out, moaning, struggling to keep your hands near the headboard.

“Do you need more, sweet girl?”

“Please,” you beg and press your center up to rub his cock. “It aches,” you whine.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me touch you? Let me make the pain go away, baby?”

His words send new waves of pleasure through you, every part of you flushing with heat, your thighs squeezing together as if you can hide your leaking core from him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Bucky.”

He lays kisses on the underside of your breasts, just below them, like he’s following the lines of your ribs as he moves down toward your stomach—the part of you that you hate the most. You struggle underneath him.

“Not there,” you say as he places open-mouthed kisses on your soft belly. It tickles and makes you tremble and writhe.

He chuckles darkly. “I thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” Both hands fall upon your hips, trapping you, fingers digging into your soft, pliant flesh as he nuzzles and licks and nips and kisses your stomach. You throw your head back, dizzy at the thought of what your body will look like tomorrow, purpled bruises made of passion.

“I’m a good girl,” you pant, mouth falling open as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Then let me touch you, doll. All of you—I want all of you.”

You hear the sound of fabric ripping before you feel the cool air rush over where your sleep shorts are no longer, Bucky tosses the tatters of fabric over the edge of the bed. He inhales sharply at the sight of you, hands roaming over the wide breadth of your hips as if he can’t even draw himself away, smoothing over your stretch marks with loving strokes until he finds the thick expanse of your bare thighs.

Bucky’s thumb brushes over your clothed cunt, panties drenched, and a strangled moan flies from your mouth as you press toward him, begging for more.

“This all for me?” he asks, voice gravelly. “My pretty baby is all wet like this for me? Christ, doll, you’re dripping.”

“Yes!” you shout as metal fingers hook around your underwear to rip them off, parting your lips to watch your slick seep from your aching core. “It’s all for you, Bucky, all of it.”

He groans at this. “Good girl,” he praises you. “That’s my good girl.”

And then he sinks two fingers into you, your juices soaking his hand almost immediately, and pumps into you like his life depends on it. The pleasure is too much, and when his thumb finds your clit and begins to slide over it, your knees try to close out of instinct, hips canting away from the pleasure. Bucky growls and wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you close, baring your naked body to him and him alone.

“You like that?” His voice is low, teasing, so fucking hot you can’t do anything but gasp for breath. “You’re sucking my fingers in, baby. So tight. Gotta work you open or you’re never gonna be able to take my cock, honey.”

You whimper his name, hips twitching under his grasp, crying out as every stroke of his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. When he adds a third, you think you might die from the mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls.

“You’re such a good girl,” he coos. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you? Been teasin’ me too long, and now you’ve gotta take it all, baby.”

He drives his fingers inside and hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you and it breaks you apart, tears you asunder, you’re arching off the bed and Bucky holds his thumb on your clit as you undulate upon his fingers. You can feel the gush of come that trickles down his thick fingers, and then he pulls out and places them in his mouth, licking your honey from the digits as the aftershocks of your orgasm wrack through you.

And when you can finally open your eyes, vision hazy, Bucky is looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust, licking your juice from his lips, grinning.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises again and the fire of pleasure and want and need ignites.

“Need you,” you whine, “right now, please, please sergeant.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You don’t know what you do to me when you say that, doll.”

You definitely know what you do to him, and you’re gonna keep saying it and saying it until he’s yours, forever, until the end, until he’s buried so deep inside of you that you could die happy.

Staring up at him, your face flushed, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and spread among the motel pillows, you think you might be in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Need me to fuck you, baby? Fuck, you drive me so fuckin’ crazy. I’m crazy about you, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect, so soft, so beautiful.” Bucky’s hands touch every part of you, even the places you hate. He finds the soft rolls of fat you try to work off at the gym, finds the squishy parts of your upper arms you think look unsightly when you’re hacking into HYDRA’s systems, fingers flying over the keyboard. He passes over your stubbly legs, a little sharp from three days of not shaving while on the mission, he caresses the dimples of cellulite in the backs of your thighs you hate so much.

And then he pushes the waistband of his sweats down and kicks his pants off, his cock exposed and standing attention all red at the tip and thick and hard and hot, and his hands slide underneath your thighs and press you up until you’re angled to take him.

He hesitates though, you feel it. And god, you’d do anything for him.

“Fuck me, sergeant,” you beg so prettily, and Bucky growls.

His hips snap into yours, cock sliding through your walls, parting you for him, splaying you open, stretching you, burning you, he’s everything. Bucky gives you one second to adjust and then he’s moving within you, the pain blurring into pleasure, your head thrown back, keening, moaning, crying out, nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hisses, sweat dripping down his temple as he rams into you over and over and over. “Give it to me, baby. You feel so good.”

“Harder,” you manage in between your shrieks and moans and Bucky answers your call with a response. He drags you toward him until your hips are attached to his, connected, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, the darkest parts of you, and you sob as the new angle makes you feel every single drag of his length. The head of his cock pierces you, smashing against the spot that makes you keen, and the pressure is building up within you again.

Bucky’s fingers find purchase in the plush flesh that sits on your hips, dragging down until he’s digging into your thick thighs, the sharp pain a beacon cutting through the haze of pleasure you’re locked in as he fucks you. It’s building, building, building, pressure, building.

“Come for me,” he snarls, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, like he can feel how close you are. And for the second time, your body is shattered and your orgasm breaks like a wave crashing against the shore, swallowing you whole until you’re lost in everything that is Bucky.

You scream his name, legs tightening around him like you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, and his words are lost on you.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s my good girl, coming so sweet around my cock, god you feel so good baby, so tight, such a good little girl.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you whine as your slick slips out of you, his cock coated in your essence, smearing it against your inner thighs. But it doesn’t last that long. With an immediacy that turns you on—he wants you, he wants you so bad—Bucky grabs you and flips you over, putting you on your hands and knees. His palm forces your head down, back bowing until you’re arched with your ass upturned, face smashed into the pillows.

“God,” he groans, “this fuckin’ ass of yours, baby. It gets me in so much trouble, d’ya know that? You don’t even know how many times I’ve caught myself watching the way your ass swings when you walk, like y’gotta purpose, like you don’t even know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

Bucky’s hands round over your ass, caressing them gently, then grabbing fistfuls of your flesh until you’re crying out once again. It makes you lean back into him, trying to seek out the pleasure of him, wiggling as if you can entice him to stuff you with his cock again.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathes, and then he gives your right cheek a slap that makes you shriek, laying a kiss on it just after to soothe the pain.

“Please sergeant,” you gasp. “Please, please, I need you to fuck me again.”

“You want me to fuck you again?” he asks, smug. “I just fucked you ‘till you came around me, baby. You need me to do it again?”

It’s humiliating, but your words are jumbled as you cry and beg and cry and beg for him to take you again. You need him. You need him to fuck you. You need Bucky Barnes to do anything and everything to you.

He leans over you, breath hot on the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, again and again and again.”

And then he slams back into you, the angle so much deeper this time, cock hitting the back of your cunt like he was made for you—like you were made for him.

You can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but drool into the pillow as he takes you from behind like a wild animal. The sounds that pour from your open lips are heady and strung together, making no sense, but Bucky knows what you need. He fucks you raw, fucks you hard, fucks you until you know you’ll be covered in bruises in the morning. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him because you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up.

When his thrusts become sloppy, Bucky takes his vibranium hand and searches for your clit, making you cry out. It’s too much—the overstimulation. You’re too sensitive, too exhausted, too fucked out to take the pleasure anymore. But you clench around him, the sloppy sounds of your wet heat taking Bucky as he pounds into you making you flush, and the coil in your stomach is tightening.

“Give it to me,” Bucky commands, ramming into you impossibly harder, fingers sliding over your slick clit. “Give it to me, baby.”

You whine his name and Bucky’s free hand smacks your ass again, the sound of flesh on flesh mingling with the sound of him fucking you.

“You said you’d be good,” he grits through his teeth. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“You’re a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my good girl?”

“Yes, sergeant, yes!”

“Then give it to me. Come, baby, come for me, one more time.”

And like that, you come apart, knees collapsing beneath you. Bucky catches you in his arms, thrusting once, twice more, and then buries himself so far inside of you that you barely feel his hot seed spurt inside of you, coating your insides.

You fall to the bed and Bucky follows, pulling out of you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest in the very position that started this all. He peppers kisses over the expanse of your shoulders, behind your ear, and then turns you until he can connect his lips to yours. Bucky kisses you like he means it, like he wants it to last forever.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers against your mouth, then he’s off the bed and headed for the bathroom. You lay there in bliss, staring up at the ceiling with lidded eyes, unable to think of anything but the pleasure and exhaustion that make up your body right now. When Bucky returns, he has a ratty washcloth in hand and he uses it to clean between your legs. It’s warm and he’s gentle, leaving you shivering when he’s finished.

When he climbs back in bed, he tucks a piece of your matted hair behind your ear, smiling at you.

“Such a good girl,” he says, one last time, and it makes you smile. “My good girl,” he murmurs as he kisses you again.

“Yours?” You look up at him, blinking innocently.

“Mine.” Bucky lays your head upon his bare chest. “All mine.”

You fall asleep before him to the sound of his breathing, sharing the same bed with your co-worker Bucky Barnes, who you really think you might be in love with, especially as he strokes your hair so softly until your eyes fall, heavy.

Taglist: @melancholic-metanoia @kitkatd7 @mimiswitchywrites @tripleyeeet @allidoiswritewritewrite

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic!#smut fic #thanks for supporting me!#divine masterlist

2K notes · View notes

oreomonsterhunter · 3 years

Text

“I’m not wearing my sexy underwear tonight”

Pairing: Johnny x reader (or OC)

Word Count: 3988

Genre: fluff, not smut but they both really wanna toe the line

Warnings: language, some sexy kisses (cover your eyes kids)

Summary: Johnny takes his best friend on their first date

A/N: this has absolutely morphed into a long term couple, because apparently Princess has taken the reins 😂 if you like this, check out the rest of their story so far on my masterlist!

You were nervous. Friends with Johnny since diapers, and somehow you were nervous to meet him in five minutes. You glanced at the time—make that four minutes.

Pacing back and forth in front of the door, you smoothed down your dress again. All Johnny had told you was to dress up. He might be a fashion king, but he wasn’t exactly the best at sharing details. You’d teetered between twenty different outfits before finally settling on a happy medium. Couldn’t show up to a museum in an evening gown. Well, you supposed you could, if you even owned one. So the little black dress at the back of your closet was the final choice. Safe enough for just about every venue, since Johnny hadn’t told you where your date would be.

You sucked in a breath, fighting against the nerves tight in your stomach. Your first date, oh my gosh. How were you supposed to date Johnny? You’d done practically everything together already, what made this different from going to the movies together last week? Aside from the obvious—last week, you didn’t know what Johnny’s lips felt like on yours.

Then you groaned at your sudden realization. Jeez, you couldn’t do anything right in this relationship with Johnny. You were about to have your first date but you’d already had a hot and heavy makeout session at an unmentionable hour of the morning. So much for “will I kiss him afterwards?” Dating for five seconds, and everything was already out of order. You wanted to scream, but before your thoughts could really start spiraling, you heard a knock at the door.

You were sweating, oh gosh. Did you need to reapply deodorant? You froze, staring at nothing. Until another knock sounded, this time accompanied by Johnny’s familiar voice, “Yo, are you ready to go?”

You sagged in relief. Nothing else would have snapped you out of the nervous cycle better than Johnny being….well, Johnny. And when you finally convinced yourself to open the door, the sight of his easy smile was enough for yours to appear, too.

“Well, uh, hi,” he stuttered, making you giggle.

You slipped on your shoes, grabbed a small purse, and locked the door behind you. Then you linked arms with Johnny, “Alright, where to, mystery man? You haven’t told me anything.”

“That’s mostly because I didn’t figure anything out until today.”

Biting your lip to hold back a giggle, you tugged him down the hallway. “No wonder you didn’t share much detail. I should’ve known.”

Johnny tightened his grip on you when you stepped out of the elevator, leading you to the car. He didn’t say much, which was a bit out of character. Frowning up at him, you tried to meet his gaze. He finally looked down at you when he opened the passenger door for you to get in. “You, uh, you look really nice tonight.”

A small smile bloomed, “Not looking so bad yourself, hot stuff.”

* * * * *

Apparently Johnny had picked out a restaurant for dinner. A fancy restaurant. You read through the list of entrees with a barely-concealed grimace. “Do you know what any of these words mean?” you asked him.

Johnny beamed at you, “Nope, that’s half the fun.”

A waiter walked by with a tray destined for another table, and you both gaped at the miniscule portion sizes. “Those look like appetizers,” Johnny said, goggling at the tiny salad. “Maybe I can order several steaks. I’d need about five of them.” He started eyeing the menu again.

“As long as you’re picking up the tab,” you joked.

“Oh, I thought you were,” he said, all wide eyed innocence. You smacked his arm with your menu, fighting a grin at his usual antics. The couple at the next table shot you a look, and you hunched back in your seat.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying. Order whatever you’d like,” Johnny said, still puzzling over the ridiculous dinner options.

You frowned, reaching for your water. But shoot, it probably cost five bucks for tap, you thought with no small amount of horror. You set it back down before you drained more of Johnny’s wallet.

After a few more minutes of torturous silence, trying not to fidget too much, you leaned forward. “Do we even have a waiter?”

Johnny jerked upright, looking over his shoulder at the man in question. “I don’t know?”

“I’ve been trying to make eye contact with the staff for five minutes and they’re all ignoring me.”

Johnny blinked at you. “Wait, are you ready to order?”

“No, I wanna ask if they charge for water.”

“No one charges for water,” he chortled.

“I bet it’s five bucks a glass,” you said, crossing your arms.

Now Johnny was really laughing, and half the restaurant was staring at your table. “Only if it’s imported from the crystal springs of Iceland,” he said, grinning.

“Wait, really?”

“Hell if I know,” Johnny said, making you snort some of your water. You shrunk down in your chair, hiding your red face while he kept laughing.

“I don’t know this man,” you said to the people at the next table. They stared at you, whispering among themselves. Pouting, you turned back to Johnny. “I can’t believe you booked a table here,” you cocked an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were burger joint people, not escargot snobs.”

“Do you really not wanna eat here?” he asked, propping his elbows on the table.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your waiter finally showed up to take your order. “Good evening, can I interest you in anything else to drink?”

“Any Icelandic sparkling water?” Now Johnny was the one snorting inelegantly.

The waiter laughed, despite not knowing the joke. “Can I interest you in a bottle of red? You seem like a red wine woman.”

You smiled politely, reaching for the wine list when he offered it to you. “Sure, I’ll take a look.”

The waiter smirked, eyes landing on you. “I’ll have to card you, miss.”

Your brows raised, but you complied, digging out your wallet. Across the table, Johnny cleared his throat, “Do I look like a red wine guy?” But the waiter barely glanced at him before his eyes were back on you.

“Your photo doesn’t do you justice,” the waiter commented, handing your ID back.

“No one looks good in those pictures,” you chuckled.

“I beg to differ,” he said, then nodded at the wine list. “What can I get you?”

You glanced over at Johnny, who was fidgeting enough to shake the table. Curious. “What do you recommend?” you asked, twirling a strand of hair around one finger.

“You might be interested in one of our finer vintages,” he began, leaning over your shoulder to point out a few wines on the list. You heard a subtle sound, and out of the corner of your eye, saw Johnny’s fingers rapping the table at a rapidly increasing pace. You bit your lip, focusing on the wines again, but not before adding a little more fuel to the fire. Time to test your theory. You crossed your legs, brushing one foot up Johnny’s calf in the process. The man jumped as if electrocuted, his knees banging into the underside of the table.

“How about this one?” you asked innocently, looking up at the waiter again.

“A lovely choice, though it is on the higher range, so I’m not sure—”

“We’ll take it,” Johnny announced, plucking the wine list from your fingers and shoving it at the waiter.

You raised an eyebrow, but the waiter simply smiled at you, apparently unbothered by growly Johnny. “I’ll bring that right out for you,” he said, taking the wine menu and leaving you to suffer over dinner options.

Johnny cleared his throat, leaning towards you again. “That waiter’s a bit weird, huh?” he asked, watching the man walk away. “He didn’t even ask what I wanted.”

You donned your best sparkly-eyed expression, “But he’s being so friendly! He really deserves a nice tip, he had some helpful suggestions.”

Johnny frowned, “He’s obviously flirting with you.”

“No way,” you laughed, waving him off.

Johnny rolled his eyes, “Trust me. He’s flirting with you more than I am, and I’m the one taking you on a date.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Maybe you should start flirting with me some more, then.”

Johnny sent you an indecipherable look. You wondered if your teasing had worked. But Johnny seemed to have calmed down some, now that the helpful waiter was out of sight.

You shrugged, sitting back in your chair. You changed the subject, giving the man a break. “Seriously, we don’t need to spend this much on dinner. I feel bad.”

“I thought you’d like this place,” Johnny said, brows furrowing.

“I will literally go anywhere with you, it doesn’t matter, I just….I dunno, I feel like I don’t fit in here.” You weren’t quite sure how to express your fear that people would call you a gold-digger or something, only dating Johnny now that he’d achieved success. Even if the two of you knew better, it still made your stomach twist. And not in the nice way it did while watching Johnny’s hands playing with his water glass. Shoot, shoot, shoot, now his fingers were wet from the condensation. You really didn’t need to know what that looked like. Had his hands always been that large? You shifted in your seat.

Johnny’s mouth twisted in a wry smile, “I don’t know if either of us really fit in with the rich old person vibe, but I heard the food is good.”

I’d rather have a bite of you, you thought to yourself, twisting the napkin in your lap. You’d never seen him in a suit before. Or at least, not in person.

Johnny coughed suddenly, staring at you with wide eyes. “What?”

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? Your cheeks burned. “Um, I’d be, uh,” you stuttered, trying to cover your mistake, all confidence extinguished. “We could get burgers, or something.”

Johnny sat back in his chair, eyes on yours. He smirked, and you wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground. Oh no, he definitely heard you.

“As long as I get to keep watching you,” Johnny said, voice low. “You really are beautiful, not just tonight. Every night.”

You opened your mouth, not sure what to say, but knowing that you wanted Johnny to keep looking at you like that. Like you were the main course. “Johnny, I—”

“Your wine, miss,” the waiter had returned. You bit back a frown, knowing he was just doing his job. But he seriously couldn’t have waited another minute?

“Thank you,” you murmured, sampling the first sip before allowing the waiter to pour both glasses.

“Can I interest you in any appetizers?” he asked, pouring Johnny’s wine.

You blinked, having forgotten the menu entirely. Across the table, Johnny pulled out the menu, but before he could point anything out, the waiter was hovering over your shoulder. “Might I recommend the cheese board? It will pair beautifully with this bottle.”

“Might I tell you my order?” Johnny said. His smile was sharper than before. You might have teased him some more, but you got a bit distracted by Johnny’s jawline as he turned to speak to the waiter. Honestly, you were having trouble tearing your eyes away from him all night. It felt like seeing him for the first time, and in a way, you supposed you were. You’d always known Johnny was attractive, since the time all boys started to look cute. You’d just never let yourself think about it too much. Best friend mental boundaries and all that.

Maybe if Johnny hadn’t said anything on that night, you wouldn’t have ever seen him like this. You wouldn’t have allowed yourself to admire the column of his neck, or his long fingers as they unbuttoned the top of his shirt. It would’ve been you and your stupid butterflies trapped in the friend zone forever.

Thoroughly distracted now, you bit your lip as you wondered what Johnny’s neck would look like with some new decorations.

“You realize they sell food here, right? You don’t have to look at me like I’m an appetizer,” Johnny whispered across the table dramatically. You startled, looking around, but the waiter had left at some point during your daydream. Oh gosh, did you drool? You pressed the back of your hand to your face discreetly, relieved to find nothing of the sort.

Then your brain caught up to Johnny, and you looked up at him with a smirk, “You’re too big to be an appetizer.”

Johnny choked on a laugh, covering his mouth to hide his smile when the other diners looked your way. When he appeared to have himself under control again, he eyed you from head to toe—or at least what he could see from across the table. He shot you a grin, “You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

You watched him through your lashes, not quite sure what to make of him anymore. You’d had your fair share of fun with other guys, but never in a million years had you imagined flirting with Johnny so blatantly. Let alone in a fancy five star restaurant like this.

A sudden presence at your side startled you, and you jumped a little when the waiter reached over your shoulder to set a dish down. “Sorry for startling you,” he murmured, moving away slightly, but not before brushing your shoulder in apology. “Should I leave you with this for now, or are you ready to order?”

Johnny’s eyes flashed, and you bit back a curse at the waiter’s truly stellar ability to interrupt. “We’re fine, thank you,” you said, unable to stop watching Johnny. Or his hand, slowly tightening into a fist on top of the table.

“Would you like to hear the specials tonight?”

You donned a polite smile, nodding at the waiter to continue. While he read down the list of fancy-sounding entrées, you turned your smile on Johnny, who was vibrating in his seat again. You could’ve sworn your water glasses were shaking, and you held back a giggle. You uncrossed and recrossed your legs, extra slowly to make sure he got the message when you “accidentally” brushed his knee this time. The vibrations stopped, and his eyes burned into you.

“Thank you, we’ll keep looking over the menu,” Johnny interrupted the waiter, his voice deeper than before. Your smile only grew.

Once the waiter was out of earshot, you leaned in. “Can we leave? I can’t even kiss you here.”

“Yep, yes, absolutely,” Johnny said, standing up the second the words were out of your mouth. He nearly upended the table, making you snort. “Right now,” he nodded, striding for the exit.

You scrambled out of your chair, rushing after him. “Johnny,” you hissed, grabbing his sleeve. “We didn’t pay yet.”

He came to a halt in the hallway, and you nearly ran into his back. Then Johnny turned around, and you became very aware of the semi-secluded location as he moved closer. You squeaked out a panicked, “Not here!” You backed away until he finally reached out, one hand circling your waist to reel you in.

Johnny’s eyes moved over your shoulder, then back to yours. He smirked, leaning in close enough for you to feel his lips brushing your cheek as he murmured, “Tell the valet to get the car. I’ll grab the wine.”

You could’ve sworn you felt his hand brush down your back, lower. Your cheeks burned hotter. But when you turned, Johnny’s broad shoulders were disappearing around the corner, and the waiter was hurrying in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

You ended up ditching the car and walking around the neighborhood. You only looked slightly out of place with your high heels and makeup when you ended up at a tteokbokki joint. You’d played rock paper scissors between that and burgers, and Johnny won, as usual.

After dinner, you were reasonably close to your apartment, so Johnny offered to walk you home. It felt like another one of your late-night adventures, except you were usually in sneakers. When your feet got tired, you stopped in the middle of the block to take off the killer heels, sighing in relief. You slung the straps over your wrist, prepared to keep trudging along, when Johnny swooped in. One second, you were on the ground, the next, you were admiring the top view of Johnny’s ass from where you were dangling over his shoulder.

“Johnny, what the fuck,” you asked breathlessly, dying of laughter. And from his shoulder digging into your diaphragm.

“Are you crazy? You could cut your feet open,” he scolded you.

“At least there’s a nice view,” you sighed, reaching down to pat his butt.

Johnny put a little bounce in his next step, and you grunted at the impact. You could practically feel his smug little grin. “Hands off the merchandise.”

“How is that fair? You totally copped a feel back at the restaurant.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull,” you said. “You went all ‘alpha male’ with that nice waiter.”

Johnny huffed, “I wasn’t jealous.”

You grinned in victory. “I never said you were, mister offering-up-information. Now put me down, you caveman.”

Johnny’s grip on your thighs loosened, and his hands slid up to your waist, holding you tightly as he helped you back down. You froze for a second when your feet hit the ground, not expecting to be face-to-face with him so suddenly. “Wait right there,” Johnny said firmly, finally releasing your waist.

You blinked at him in confusion, watching as he slid his suit jacket off. Your eyes widened when he reached for you, but it was only to wrap the jacket around your waist, tying the sleeves into a knot to hold it in place.

“There,” Johnny said, nodding at his handiwork. Then he turned, crouching down slightly. “Alright, princess, hop on.”

You beamed at him, not that he could see it. It wouldn’t be a walk with Johnny if he didn’t end up carrying you at the end of the night, you chuckled to yourself. You were fiercely grateful to Johnny for thinking of his jacket—you weren’t quite sure how long your skirt was, now that you were wrapped around him like a koala.

“Thanks, Johnny,” you mumbled, burying your face in his neck. “You’re the bestest.” You left a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he laughed, tightening his hold on your legs.

Finally, you arrived at your apartment building. You slid your heels back on, balancing with one hand on Johnny’s arm. “I’ll walk you up,” he said once you straightened.

But when you got to your door, you hesitated, unsure what to say. Was this the part where you kissed him goodnight? You were torn, so at odds with the way the night resembled your old friend dates, only now things were different. What were you supposed to do?

“So,” Johnny drawled, leaning against the wall. “Where’s my tip?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Your tip?” you repeated.

“Johnny’s chauffeur service isn’t free,” he said. “And if I remember correctly, you still owe me for last time.”

You cocked a hip, smirking slightly. “Any preferred payment methods?”

Johnny blew you an air kiss, and you made a show of catching it. “I take cash or card,” he informed you.

“What a shame,” you murmured, dropping your purse in front of the door. “I seem to have lost my wallet.”

He watched you carefully, barely blinking as you approached him, one slow step at a time. “Apps?”

You stopped mere inches away, “Not a single one.”

He swallowed, and your eyes tracked the movement. Your daydream from before came back with a vengeance—you bit your lip at the thought of marking him up. Then you leaned in, resting one hand on his chest. His heart pounded through the thin dress shirt.

“Will this do?” you asked, lips just barely brushing his. Nothing else touched, aside from your fingertips on his sternum, but you could’ve sworn you felt him shiver.

Oh so slowly, Johnny reached out, hands ghosting over your hips. You smiled against him, then melded your lips to his, bypassing whatever hesitations were holding you back. What was the worst that could happen?

You felt Johnny teasing at the seam of your lips and gratefully opened for him. He inhaled sharply when you inched forward, your chest brushing his. You couldn’t hear anything but your heart racing. And when his fingers dug into your hips, you fell into the kiss. He pulled you in like a magnet until every part of you aligned with him. Your limbs felt molten, burning at the contact.

Johnny pulled away, but not for long. You gasped for air as his lips traced over your jawline, making their way to the delicate skin beneath your ear. He pressed hot kisses there until your neck arched back obediently. And when he nipped at your throat, you whimpered. Thoughtlessly, your hips rocked forward. Johnny gave voice to a deep groan, so you did it again.

Growling lightly, Johnny curled an arm around your waist to pull you harder against him. All of the breath left your body at the feel of his growing hardness against your belly. You fisted your hands in his collar, tugging him away from your neck. You caught a glimpse of his kiss-swollen lips and blown out pupils, then dove back in for more.

While your mouth danced with his, your hands dragged southward. Your fingernails caught on a button or two as you traced the muscle beneath. Now Johnny’s hips were bucking into yours. You grinned savagely into the kiss. You’d just reached his belt when Johnny ripped his mouth away from yours. “Woah, woah,” he gasped. “Slow down, there.”

You panted for air, “What’s wrong?”

Both of you were breathing hard, and you were having a hard time ignoring the elephant in the room. Er, hallway. “You’re not trying to take advantage of me on the first date, are you?” Johnny asked with a breathy chuckle.

You laughed softly, tilting your chin back to get a good look at him. “Is it really taking advantage if you want it, too?” You smirked at him, rolling your hips forward to emphasize your point.

He watched you through half-lidded eyes, and you could’ve sworn you felt him throb. But Johnny, ever the gentleman, smoothed his hand down your back, resting his head back against the wall rather than picking up where you left off. “Cut me some slack, I’m not wearing my sexy underwear tonight,” he said with a crooked smile.

Oh no, now you had heart eyes for the man. You pecked his chin to hide your cheesy grin. “You let me know when you are, hmm?” you hummed, placing another kiss to the base of his throat.

“Princess, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for you.”

You giggled, leaning back in his arms. “Am I so scary?”

Johnny sobered, meeting your gaze. “I just don’t want to mess anything up. Not with you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you smiled at him. “I trust you too much.”

“Oh yeah? You still haven’t told me what you wished for on your fourteenth birthday,” Johnny taunted.

You tilted your head, thinking back. “I didn’t tell you because I was hopelessly in love with you at the time,” you confessed. “Now that’s out in the open, I guess you can know.”

Johnny blinked, taken aback. “Even then?”

“Johnny, I think I’ve loved you forever,” you said, staring up at him. “So of course I wished for the same thing every year.”

“What was it?”

Your smile widened, “Well, it already came true. You said it, too.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#johnny fluff #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh fanfic #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 fic

661 notes · View notes

shoutogepi · 3 years

Text

Entertainment

┌────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.3k

[ ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw 18+!) ] angst, smut

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : Much to your chagrin, you realize you have feelings for your explosive coworker with benefits... (continuation of FYIJM/Orange Lambo)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : ahaha whaaa i bet you had thought this series was abandoned! well, surprise update. i realized the other day that i hadn’t updated this series in a year oops so... have this haha. for those of you who foresaw the angst... great job hehe. also please beware this is unedited... and for that i apologize~

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : once again, reader is meant to be a fellow pro hero working at the same agency as Bakugou! so Y/H/N is meant to be read as “your hero name”.

└────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┘

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄳ark shadows stretch along the tiled floor of the office, cast by the bright moon hanging high and proud in the sky. The fumes from the bustling city are strong challengers to the magnificent orb of light, but they only succeed in swallowing the stars twinkling across the planes of the sky— for the moon beams through them and illuminates the tears glittering down your cheeks.

Bakugou’s hand is firm around your throat as he presses your form against the glass of the floor-length window, your nipples dragging along the chilled surface. You sob in pleasure as his hips dig into your ass, his cock plunging into you. As soon as your mouth opens, his palm slides to cup around your cheek, shoving two thick fingers between your teeth and pressing down against the back of your tongue as far as they can reach. His movements are rough and ravenous, and flush with desire.

Just how you like it.

And he knows it.

Your teeth clamp around the digits and Bakugou releases an angry moan, hooking the fingers around your teeth and throwing your head to the side. “Fuckin brat,” he snarls, his other arm tightening around your stomach to press your back snug against his sturdy chest. “You’re gonna pay for bein’ bad, slut.”

His hips begin to slap mercilessly into you, his hard cock smashing deep into your core, again and again. Your disobedience withers as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, body melting from his touch to curl into the curves of his instruction. Spine arching and feet sliding apart to welcome him even deeper inside, Bakugou grins at how easily you're broken, his hand leaving your waist to clap against your ass.

A moan decorates the glass with frosted white as you shuffle forward from the spank. Somehow his name tumbles from your lips in a winded cry, and his teeth sink into your neck as his growl vibrates across your heated skin. Your pussy clenches down on his thick length, and he moans even louder into your neck. His palm plants tiny explosions onto your ass as he slaps you another time, only prospering further as you clamp onto him again. “Fuck, you’re tight for a slut, y’know that?” He groans, tongue flicking along the fresh indents of his teeth on your throat.

“If anyone’s the slut here—“ you gasp as his fingers finally move out of your mouth to snag around your neck again. He squeezes the sides of your throat, daring you to finish your sentence. But you’ve already started your counter, and you aren’t backing down now. “— it’s you.”

Even if you had managed to snag a final breath as you finish talking, it’s stolen from you when a feral Bakugou roars behind you, ripping you from the glass and pivoting to shove you across the surface of his tidy desk. You whimper as his cock drags along your slick walls, his balls beginning to slap into your clit mercilessly and sending tingles through your skeleton. You swear and he laughs harshly, both hands gripping onto your hips as he hammers you into the desk. “I’m the slut?” He parrots, giving your non-reddened ass cheek a hard blow with his explosive palm. “When you’re the one who’s begging for me to fuck this sloppy little cunt? Look how wet you are,” he comments, a thumb trailing over your ass to touch the excess slick at the base of his cock. “Shit,” he grumbles as he moves the digit over your ass, dipping into your puckered hole easily with plethoric lubrication.

You whine at the stimulation, his thumb diving into you and rubbing inside. “Katsuki, a-ahh,” you gasp as his hips begin to pick up the pace again, an expletive falling from your lips after a moan.

“Y’like that, hah? See, you can’t even prove your case, Princess,” he chuckles, rolling his hips to grind against your sensitive walls. The action makes a purr of pleasure rumble from your throat, back bowing to offer your ass to him even further, meeting his circling hips. Your submission only spurs him on, his hands pushing your hips back into his in perfect synchronization. “Whose pussy is this?”

The question falls from his lips without thought, and his vermillion eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. Yet what horrifies him is that you don’t pause— you don’t even stray from your perfect speed to match his hips, not even a second out of line— you moan, and reply to him eagerly, “Yours, Katsuki— yours!”

And even though terror floods past the dam he’d so carefully constructed around his heart, his body crumbles at your answer, the spring in his stomach compressing as he nearly cums right there and then. He wants to choke out that he’s close, but somehow he croaks out a command instead. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock— fuck...”

In your haze of lust you don’t notice how soft his voice has become. You let yourself topple over the edge, pussy squeezing him tight as your orgasm washes over your body. It’s sinfully encaptivating; a tiny morsel of what you can only imagine heaven must feel like. Bliss crashes through you like heavy tides on a rocky sea wall, drenching you completely in sweet, refreshing euphoria.

Bakugou’s tempo is swift and hard, but he relents after a few seconds with the way you milk him like a vise. He gasps as he nearly cums inside you, pulling out at the very last second and painting your back white with his load. He groans as his fist jerks around his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy as he empties his balls onto the canvas of your moonlit skin.

It’s quiet, save for the cocktail of ragged breaths huffing from the pair of you— coming down from your highs and minds clearing of the lust that so easily had dominated you just moments ago. Bakugou falls back into his desk chair, free hand opening a drawer to grab a package of wet wipes. He snags a sheet from the container, hissing as the cool wipe slides along his aching cock. A second towelette glides down the expanse of your spine as he cleanses you of his release, and you hum as he drags the other side of the cloth between your thighs with care.

Cautiously you crawl off his desk, legs twitching as tiny, lingering shocks from your orgasm zip along your limbs. As the lascivious fog begins to clear, the air in the room becoming still and laden with perspiration from your passionate session, your stomach begins to turn. Your brain begins to work again, your heart seizing in your chest as you watch Bakugou tug up his pants. No part of you wants to follow his actions, and yet your body moves on its own, fingertips dragging your leotard up your legs. It’s his office you’re in this time— and he clearly wants you to leave if he’s dressing this quickly.

Bakugou doesn’t say a word, red eyes flicking over your hurried figure. He frowns, though that’s not unusual for him, and swallows back the lump in his throat. Would you stay if he asked you to? The answer surely must be no, and he growls at the thought of fucking this up— whatever this is— by asking stupid questions. What you said was in the heat of the moment, prompted by him himself; certainly you were just desperate to cum, desperate for your high. And yet he can’t stop himself from calling out to you just as you’re about to slip around the corner of his office door.

Bakugou looks just as surprised as you when your name slips from his lips. You stand there in the middle of the doorway, frozen with your doe eyes glued to him expectantly. He doesn’t know what to do— what to say— but somehow he manages to speak. “Grab your stuff and meet me in the garage in five.”

He wants to slap himself. Did he really say that?

You’re stunned, frozen to the spot and blinking at him blankly. Your lips part to respond to him, and yet nothing comes out. All other words failing you, the only thing you can think to say is—

“Okay!”

You blurt out like a buffoon, turning on your heel and making your escape down the hallway, away from the intensity of his gaze. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you try with all your might to squash down the giddy butterflies bursting in your stomach. Logically, it would be sound to assume he’s just taking you to your apartment. It’s late, and the city is dark and filled with all kinds of characters— not like you’re a fellow pro-hero who can protect yourself of anything.

You try your hardest not to let your imagination wander as you’re packing away a few folders from the safety of your office, but you just can’t help the warmth that rises to your cheeks. Perhaps he’s taking you somewhere else? But then again, at this hour, the only other place he could really be taking you is… his place.

No. No way that could be possible. Just— no! You shake your head, smoothing down the skin-tight material of your hero suit before grabbing your bag, jacket thrown over your shoulder as you rush to the elevator.

Bakugou is already in the garage, leaning against his sleek, orange sports-car with something akin to a grimace marring his handsome face. At the sight of you exiting the elevator doors, he pushes himself upright, bulging biceps uncrossing as he makes his way toward the driver’s side of the vehicle. “You sure take your time, Princess,” he comments, vermillion eyes twinkling with snarkiness. “No wonder you’re always playing catch-up on the agency leaderboard.”

Just like that, he’s back to being Bakugou.

“Playing mean to cover up being decent for once?” You retort as you swing the passenger door open, slinging your bag onto the ground before your legs follow, ass meeting the expensive leather seat.

All he gives you is a classic tch, in true Bakugou fashion, before the engine roars to life. You give him your address before he can ask, and he responds with a grunt before he shifts the vehicle into drive. The noise echoes off the cement walls of the garage, and the car’s purring continues as it exits the building. The lacquer shines glossy in the moonlight— the very same moonlight that had kissed your lewd face just ten minutes ago as the man beside you had ravaged you. The recollection makes your eyes move away from the blonde, instead opting to focus on the very interesting interior of the door.

The drive is quick and void of sound, save for the howl of the wind pouring in from the cracked windows. There’s no music, and no conversation, but still, you can’t help the content blooming in your chest. This is the first time that Bakugou has offered to drive you home. Well, besides that one incident that happened a few weeks ago when he took you to that park and… took you for a ride, so to speak. And in this very vehicle. The memory makes your heart race, your teeth taking your bottom lip prisoner.

In no time, you’re pulling up in front of your apartment complex, and your breath hitches as the car comes to a stop. The air is heavy and full of tension, and you can’t help but steal a glance over at Bakugou. The blonde is sitting rigid in his seat, brow furrowed and frown evident on his lips. His hands are wound tight around the steering wheel, and it takes a moment for him to face you directly.

Before you can make a word— a sound, even— Bakugou’s hand cups your face. His touch is gentle, patient as he brings your face to his. When your lips meet, a whimper crawls from your throat. His mouth is warm, movements cautious as his lips brush against yours. The sweet, smoky, caramel-like smell of him twists around your senses, and you lean into his touch, enamored.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with him...

And it’s over immediately.

Bakugou moves backwards, crimson eyes wide and watchful, wary of your every move. Your lips are still parted, and you blink at him as you take in his retreating face, dazed. There’s a pregnant pause as you take each other in, your fingers going to brush your lips in shock. His eyes trail over your lips before he looks at you again. Maybe you’re just imagining it, but there’s something in his gaze that looks a lot like longing.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

His deep voice rumbles in his throat, and goosebumps rise along your skin as his saccharine choice of words sinks in. Your brow furrows as you soak it in, lips parted but no sound coming out.

The look you give him is inquisitive.

But Bakugou only sees it as accusatory.

His demeanor hardens by the second— the brief softness that had just been exposed fleeting fast as his arms cross over his chest. “You gonna sit there all night, dumbass?” He hisses, beautiful red orbs turning into slits.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, reaching out to him. It’s the only thing that your body allows you to say, shellshocked at the vulnerability you’d just seen from him— a revelation as impressive as if you had discovered a new species.

Bakugou only glares at your outstretched fingers, jamming his finger into the side of the door to unlock your own. “Just get out,” he orders. And somehow seeing you flinch at his words, watching as the hurt flashes on your face for just a moment— it spurs him on. “I got someplace to be already.”

With a tight chest, you push your door open, grabbing your bag and casting one last, furtive glance at the explosive man. But his eyes are only on the steering wheel, so you sigh and pick up your jacket from the seat. “Goodnight, Boom-Boy,” you murmur as you retreat from the vehicle, allowing the door to shut.

Little do you know, his gaze follows you until your figure disappears through the heavy doors of the foyer, leaving him alone to the torments of his self-loathing and frustration.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Unsurprisingly, you don’t have a great night of sleep. You toss and turn in your sheets, rewinding and replaying every second of interaction in his outrageously-expensive car. Overthinking every word, every pause, every look. All he had wished you was an honest “goodnight”, so why did it feel like there was so much more?

This had been the first time you’d caught a glimpse of what lies beneath the hard, spiny exterior of the man, and yet, it had been but a speck of dust in the wind. You’d seen it for one second. One exhilarating, butterfly-inducing second, and then— it was gone. Vanished. By the time you’d gotten your bearings, it seemed like the man’s shell was even spikier— more abrasive than even his explosive locks, and far more capable of hurting you.

And perhaps you were a little hurt— you mean to say, you are. But that makes you question if you’re just picking up signals that he’s not even aware he’s sending. You’re second-guessing yourself in every sense at this point. All over one kiss, and one “goodnight”.

But it wasn’t just a “goodnight”. It was a “goodnight, princess”. As if that would make such a difference.

A part of you, probably the majority, to be honest, is being rational about this. The two of you haven’t really spoken much about your… relationship, if you even dare to call it that. One evening it had just sort of… happened, and since then, it’s been happening, without much pause. For months, this has been going on. And it was great, at first. The two of you were in exactly the same boat: pro hero, no time for a committed relationship— nor a want for a committed relationship, pent-up and needing some kind of release… and oh, there’s also that white-hot tension that pulls the two of you together every time you see each other. That intensity, that passion, rivalry, and desire— it’s no wonder the pair of you ended up in this seemingly-eternal rendezvous. It’s clear what you both want, what you need— it’s sex.

It’s just sex.

But of course, there’s this small part of you— well, maybe it’s larger than you’d like to admit— that hopes he feels something… more. That he could possibly want you, for more than your body. When you think about it like that, it sounds stupid, like you’re some lovesick preteen who fantasizes about the captain of the football team of something. Reality isn’t really that far though— instead, you’re a fool of an adult who fantasizes about snuggling with her sworn rival-slash-coworker.

Acknowledging it like that sounds rather pathetic, you know... yet you just don’t have the strength in you to squash that ember of hope burning bright in your heart. You don’t want to watch it extinguish, you don’t want to lose that— lose him.

Yet at the same time, you know you can’t keep doing this. Your despicable feelings for the hero only seem to be growing by the day, and you need to cut this thing off sooner rather than later if he’s not on the same page as you.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Somehow you find yourself at the door of his office, the bright sunlight of the early afternoon streaming in through the hallway windows and warming your skin. It’s shut, as usual, and it gives you the opportunity to take a deep breath before your fingers find courage to curl into a fist, and tap against the hardwood.

“Come in.” His tone is gruff and curt as always, and you quickly fix your hair before you turn the handle, slipping inside the room and letting the door shut with a quiet click.

Bakugou is sitting behind his desk, an open bento-box and a half-filled form on his tablet laying before his hulking frame. Slitted vermillion eyes land on you, quickly morphing into a curious, cautious gaze.

“Y/N,” he greets, a blonde brow rising to land higher than usual on the tan skin of his forehead. The mask of his hero suit sits limply in the corner of his desk, his handsome face on display for you to drink in.

Your eyes flicker all over him, gliding along his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of the firm muscles on his chest. You can’t help but check him out, knowing fully well what’s underneath that tight suit of his. Bakugou smirks at you, taking his time to inspect you just the same.

“I need to talk to you,” you say, the words spilling from you without much of a thought.

After a tense pause, the hero stands, capping his lunch and making his way around his desk to sit on the front of it. He motions for you to come to him, and your feet move instinctively forward, following his command as you’d done so many times before.

As soon as you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you to him, and stands you between his legs. Even sitting perched on his desk, he’s still taller than you, and he leans his nose into your neck as his hands glide along your spine. “Yeah?” he purrs, fingers splaying to drag against your skin through your thin hero suit. “And what do we need to talk about, Princess?” His lips flutter on the flushed skin of your neck, taking the hem between his teeth and pulling it back to reveal the darkened evidence of your latest session. Seeing his mark on you excites him, and the heat from his palms bleeds through your suit into your skin.

You can’t help but lean into his caress. His sharp cologne mixes with the honeyed, sugary scent of his skin and envelops you whole, pulling you in like a riptide lurking beneath an innocuous wave. A fragment of a moan escapes you when his mouth lands on the skin at the base of your neck, sucking gently and laving his tongue along your flesh.

“S’a little early to be foolin’ around,” he admonishes teasingly, voice deep and like thunder in your ears, an omen of the approaching storm. But your body wants it— craves the heavy deluge and the fear of scorching lightning that might just strike along your skin. “You like the thought of gettin’ caught, hah?” Bakugou chuckles lowly, teeth grazing your jaw. “Dirty little girl…”

Your palms glide down his thick arms, lamely stiff as your mind is screaming at you to stop— that this isn’t what you came for. Yet his touch makes you woozy, your judgement clouded as you choke on a wanton moan. “N-No, Katsuki,” you whine, fingers curling into his shirt to steady yourself.

“No?” He moves back, an ash-blonde brow rising in mock. “You’re not a dirty girl? Hmm, my memory’s pretty good, Princess, and I’m recalling some pretty irrefutable evidence that’d suggest otherwise.”

His hands slide down to cup your ass, thick fingers crawling between your thighs and prying at your flesh. He fingers over your covered slit, grin widening as you stiffen in his hold, a moan lingering in your mouth.

“No, I meant… I mean, I actually want to talk,” you sigh as you step backwards, away from his muscular body. You move far back enough for his hands to drop from your figure, your arms crossing over your chest defensively as you look toward the ground.

Bakugou seems confused by your refusal, but he clears his throat and adjusts his pants before he shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Okay…” he sits up slightly, still half-sitting on the ledge of his desk.

There’s an awkward, heavy silence between the two of you as he waits for you to talk. You know he’s waiting, but with every second that passes, the pressure in the room intensifies and makes it more and more daunting for you to speak.

“Do you like me?”

Bakugou’s expression stays guarded, the only indication that he heard you being a raised, unimpressed brow. “Hah?”

You swallow, even though your throat is drier than ever. He’s really going to make this harder than it has to be, isn’t he? But you’ve already prepared to deal with him, in all respects, here and now. “I mean— what is this to you?”

He seems a little flustered now, his eyes darting away from you as his cheeks pinken just a shade. Letting out a scoff, he growls, “I don’t know what you mean by… this.”

His playing dumb doesn’t appease you— in fact, it infuriates you. How dare he act like there’s nothing to discuss between you two?! You’ve indulged this man with vigorous extra-curricular activities for months at this point, and he has the audacity to think he can give you the go-around?

“Fuck off Bakugou, you know what I mean.”

“Oi oi oi,” he moves his big hands, patting air toward you condescendingly. “Let’s not get all upset in the middle of the day. We can talk about this later.”

Bakugou can see immediately that he’s said the wrong thing. Your face screws up and your inquisitive gaze becomes a glare, squaring your stance and your arms sliding uncrossed so you can park your hands on your hips.

“No, fuck that, we’re talking about this now!”

Seeing you pissed off must’ve pissed him off too, because now he stands upright and his menacing gaze burns down on you. “What’s there to talk about? I thought the whole point of it all was to not have to talk about jack shit.”

“Well this isn’t just jack shit!” you snarl, frustration building at how thick of a skull this man has. God, you admire whatever hell of a woman pushed his fatass head out of the womb. “We need to establish what this thing is so we can act like adults for fucking once in our lives! We work together, for fuck’s sake, we need to be responsible about this!”

“Hah?” Bakugou seems more agitated than before, his lip curling as he brandishes his signature sneer. “We’re fucking around, shitty woman, isn’t that the most adult activity we can do?” As if he hasn’t lit your fuse enough, he throws up some patronizing finger quotes when he emphasizes the word.

“So that’s what we’re doing, Bakugou? For months, we’ve just been,” you squint at him, only serving to amplify your unrelenting glare as you throw some aggressive finger quotes back at the man in front of you, “fucking around? Making eyes at each other across the conference table, and spending our nights together, just ‘cuz?”

Bakugou growls in irritation, swiping a large hand over his face from top to bottom as he hisses out profanities. He mutters something under his breath, clearly not wanting to deal with the conversation you’re forcing on him right now.

After waiting for his response for a moment but only receiving radio silence, you continue. “I’m a person, Bakugou, and in case you haven’t noticed, so are you! You can’t just ignore your feelings and act like no one and nothing matters to you!”

“Feelings?!” he shouts with contempt burning in his scarlet eyes, as if some atrocious, vile flavor gushes onto his tongue merely from uttering the word. “Oi, the fuck do you get off talking about my feelings? You don’t know shit about me, Y/H/N.”

His use of your professional hero name makes you bristle in fury, anger flaring and rationality fleeting. Everything’s escalating too fast— this isn’t the way you wanted this conversation to go. Your heart leaping into your throat, you muster the courage to change the tides, to tell him how much you want him. “Fuck you Katsuki, I know you have feelings for me! Because I—”

“I don’t have fuckin’ feelings for you!”

An arrow to the heart— the first sign of damage appears on the thumping muscle in your chest. But still, you continue, too stubborn to back down at this point. “Oh really, Boom-Boy? Then why the fuck are you still here, stuck in this godforsaken tryst with me? What am I to you, huh?”

Your stupid nickname for him makes his fists clench, steam nearly visibly blowing from his ears. “I’m not fuckin’ stuck! You— You’re just—” he buffers, rage still broiling in his gaze as he tries to come up with the most fitting word. But he doesn’t have much time— you’re glaring him down with your hands on your hips, cornering him against his desk and he yells out the first word that comes to mind.

“— entertainment.”

…

The tension in the air thickens noticeably, and you put all your effort into forcing your face not to reveal the hurt that pours into your bones. So this is what it feels like to put your heart on your sleeve… it fucking sucks.

Bakugou seems just as surprised as you are, maybe even more— his jaw hangs open cartoonishly and those red eyes are fixed on you, no longer harsh slits but wide, round orbs.

No matter how hard you try not to show your true emotions, he can clearly see that his words have stung you. The silence that fills the growing void between you two is deafening, weighing down his body as if he’s drowning in his immediate regret. But he doesn’t say anything, he can’t— you’d poked and prodded the sleeping bear of his ego and what he’d said couldn’t just be brushed under the rug and overlooked.

Entertainment. You’re nothing more than that to him. Why did you ever think you could penetrate through the booby-trapped walls around this man’s heart? Of course he didn’t want you for anything other than your body. Of course he didn’t.

For that one moment, you let him see it. You don’t hide the pain that washes over you, and you look him straight in the eye.

Bakugou stifles, throat tightening as he examines your crushed expression. He feels like he’s trapped, a fly that’s landed on a sticky trap that he can’t escape, a sinking feeling weighing down his chest, screaming at him to do something— say something— anything to mitigate the wound he’d just blasted onto your heart. “Y/N…”

And just like that your defenses come back online. He watches as you square yourself off, the soft vulnerability you’d revealed disappearing as your eyes became vacant of emotion. If anything, it looks like understanding, and it squeezes Bakugou’s chest like you’ve pulled a string tight around his lungs.

“Okay,” you murmur, your voice calm and low.

Bakugou is frozen, body unwilling to suck it up and take back the word even though his heart is so desperately screaming at him to do so. But he just can’t, he can’t take it back because then he’d have to admit it was a lie he only threw out in an attempt to save his own feelings from getting hurt. If only he knew that causing your pain would hurt a thousand times more.

You clear your throat awkwardly, taking a step back from him. Gaze dropping to the floor, your arms come out to cross atop your chest, a makeshift shield for your battered resolve. “I don’t think we should do this anymore,” you whisper, but Bakugou hears it clear as day. He can’t breathe— he’s stuck to his spot as if that damn Icyhot bastard had frozen him himself. “I just… I've worked too hard for my career to be derailed by... whatever this was…”

Somehow Bakugou nods, even though he doesn’t want to. His body moves on its own, on autopilot, as his own arms cross over his chest, and he sits back down on top of his desk. He’s still looking at you, chest heavy with bated breath.

“If the public were to find out about us fucking around, that would become my reputation as a hero, and… I just— I can’t, Katsuki.”

Your voice trembles as you whisper his name, and Bakugou’s heart feels like it’s being stabbed over and over again.

“From now on, we’re just Ground Zero and Y/H/N, okay? Back to normal…” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not at all.

Bakugou finally gets some control of his body, lips parting as he desperately searches for the right words that could somehow reverse this mess. All that comes out is a rough “Fine.” He cringes, frustration with himself building now more than ever. What’s wrong with him? That’s the opposite of what he wants, why can’t he say anything?!

You avert your eyes once more, turning to leave. Halfway through the door, you look back at him and pause. “See you around, Boom-Boy,” you breathe, the click of the door following, and leaving Bakugou to sink into his own self-loathing and regret.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

AWAA so reader and blasty have finally realized their feelings for one another... unfortunately this is a bakugou fic so of course he sucks at communication. i’m sorry if he’s ooc, as i said in my notes i havent written for him in a year lmao RIP. anyways i intend to make a fourth and final part with the resolution sooo i hope that i will have enough motivation to make that happen soon!

as always please let me know if you enjoyed! <3

➥ masterlist

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou fic #mha x reader #mha smut #mha fic #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha fic #bakugo smut #bakugo fic #bakugo x reader #idk man i suck at tags

626 notes · View notes

fific7 · 3 years

Text

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #general kirigan #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfic

244 notes · View notes