#staring at the main work for so long while drawing it was making me sad

[theswedishpajas]

Bittersweet comfort

Bonus smile edit under cut cus we need it:

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[confusedbuddyboi]

This is my first fic agere stuff, so I wanted to try espresso and Madeline, cause I can see them in my mind easily. :] btw this isnt edited so spelling errors possible and likely. This is inspired by the winter snow! It's made me excited! Also lmk if anyone's got ideas or such for other stuff! My ask box is always open even memes.

Fic under cut!

/I'll start this with saying I'm horrendous at guessing ages in general not even regressing. So most of my regression ideas here aren't based on specifics of ages and how they grow, but how a charather generally might act. Espresso seems like someone who even when regressed likes to try and be “a big kid” the main thing is regressed hes more open to offerings of help and general silliness. He also relaxes and is a lot less stressed\

Espresso was staring out the window, distracted from there work for a long moment. It was a gentle flurry, but the snow has been layering like powdered sugar on everything. Espresso realized they hadn't even realized the snow starting, he didn't mind the cold however. Being made with espresso kept him warm so he could really soak in the sight.

He never admit it but the winter weather made him a bit giddy. He always thought of when he would go out and play in the snow with his siblings. Latte would help build a snowman while cappuccino would be found making snow angels. Espresso had been much younger than his siblings but minus snow ball fights he never felt left behind in snowy fun.

“Ohhh espresso!” A joyful voice sang turning the corner seeing espresso turn from their window watching. Normally when Madeline came in espresso would jump, like a bundle of nerves, or scold him for being so sneaky when coming in. However right now espresso simply hummed, tilting his head a bit tired as always however.

Madeline gave a gentle “ah” as he realized espresso was likely regressing. Sometimes it was hard to tell, as espresso tended to fight it off wanting to work. Thankfully for Madeline the snow made espresso more willing to slip to a younger mindset without fighting it. “well, would you like to bundle up for a bit of time outside?” “you just got back from patrol though, your probably freezing” Madeline shook his hand in a ‘dont worry’ gesture. “I'll change into better layers and warm up while we but you in some winter ware,” he smiled “besides the hot chocolate taste better after a winter walk”

Eventually Madeline got his layers on first and quickly. He came back to espresso trying his best to put on the layers himself. He got the shirt and pants on fine, but was struggling with the zipper on coat. He was starting to get huffy as it didn't connect properly at the bottom. Madeline came over espresso likes to try and do big things on his own. “Can I help you buddy?” Espresso pouted wanting to get it done himself, trying once again not answering.

“Hey, you got your layers on. I'm proud of you but even big boys need help. Like I might need you to hold my hand to help me down the stairs, theyre a bit slippery!” it a moment but espresso let go of the zipper “ok”. Madeline knew it was better to tell espresso he was a big boy, or else he might get fussy. Even as a little he was always trying to be self-sufficient.

Eventually they made it out the door “hold my hand till we down the stairs ok? I don't want us to fall!” espresso beamed happy to help. “Here be careful ok! I'll be watching you!” Espresso decided to flop down and start making a string of snow angels, he looked over and urged Madeline over. “Make some too!” Madeline was cold, but with how espresso beamed excited trying to make a big circle of them, he couldn't resist.

Eventually they finished them and espresso giggled. Giddy with the masterpiece they made. Madeline brushed off the snow stuck to him and espresso before letting him explore a bit more. The snow wasn't wet enough for snowmen which made him a bit sad but settled on drawing in the snow with a stick.

Eventually espresso had enough outside, and headed inside. Madeline kept his promise of hot chocolate, letting it cool down before he put it in a sippy cup. Espresso was beaming bringing his coat to Madeline having taken off his layers. “Look! I got it off on my own!” He said excited. Madeline ruffled espresso hair a bit. “Great job! I got some hot chocolate to warm you up.” He was surprised when espresso held out the coat. “Could you put it on the rack?” Madeline smiled a bit and took it, “sure bud. Here yah go” espresso took it and darted to the couch and it's covers. “Thank you!”

[wildernessuntothemselves]

All my kitty!lino AUs

Warnings: prostitution, slavery. 

AU 1:

minho is a prized breeding kitty that you're hired to guard as he is a very rare and pure breed and having him breed other pure kitties makes for very profitable offspring

as a result of being treated like royalty all his life, he's super rude to you, a common guard dog

he's always snarky with you and he never listens and you have enough of it one day

you push him down to the floor, your teeth grazing against his delicate neck, showing him that you were not someone to be trampled on

"that's right. you have nothing to say now, brat." you growl, sitting up to look at the frightened kitty

but as you sit back, your ass comes into contact with his boner

arching an eyebrow, you smirk and roll your hips over his clothed dick "now what do we have here?"

minho stays silent, frowning but not making any attempt to push you off

"don't tell me you like this." you tease him, grinding against him harder and pulling breathy little moans from his pouty lips "kitty likes it when I'm mean to him?"

"Yeah you like that pretty kitty? Are you gonna make a mess in your pants for me? Good boy."

you make him cum like that without even touching his dick

minho is shameless after that brazenly getting on your nerves so you'd punish him

he gets so needy that now you're getting him off on the daily, letting him hump your thighs to get off while you degrade him

his insatiable need would be bad enough but now he's outright refusing to breed the cat hybrids anymore

no matter how many times you try to convince the stubborn idiot that he's going to draw attention and ruin you both, he still refuses

until finally you make a deal with him that you'll have sex with him if he continues breeding the cats

he's not fully convinced. why would he waste his seed on other women when you were right there?

"because I'm not your kind, you stupid cat."

but minho doesn't care. all he cares about is getting to breed you

"Fuck you're burning up. Are you going into heat over this? Dumb little kitten thinks he can put babies in my belly."

your words only make him fuck you harder as if he could do it if he tried hard enough

AU 2:

he's the prince's very picky kitty, rarely is a cat good enough for him. he rarely mates at all and the prince doesn't understand it one bit

one day they're walking around shopping in the bazaar when lino catches a whiff of your scent. he follows it to a shady part of the market that he never saw before

that's when he sees you standing there with a heavy chair around your neck and a cheap transparent dress over your body

out of nowhere a short disgusting man appear and he asks him if he wants to see your tits. it's only for a couple of coins

minho shouldn’t say yes. He has a whole harem of much better bred pussies for him to pick and choose from. He didn’t need to pay a disgusting man to see the body of some nameless mongrel

yet here he was hanging the slimey man the coins

the man all but rips your bodice open, eager to please the rich hybrid.

Minho feels an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. His mouth waters at the sight of your full breasts on display for him and he finds himself moving forward to touch, but the man steps in.

“The silver was to see not to touch. Three if you want to touch.”

Minho grunts and gives him what he wants. you don't seem impressed by him.

He cradles your breasts in his hands and leans down to pluck a pert nipple into his mouth, ear perked to the sound of your restrained gasp.

but then he hears the prince calling for him and he rips himself away from you and wipes his mouth harshly, panting as if he was under a spell.

Gulping, he spares your half naked form one last glance before he’s retreating towards his owner. As he slips back into the main room he hears the vendor call after him smugly, “We’ll be waiting for you, my lord.”

He does come back, this time more worked up than last time as he couldn't go to sleep thinking about you and he was reduced to getting himself off multiple time throughout the night just to cool down

his owner catches him this time though. "So this is why you were so eager to come back even though you hate the market. I gotta say I'm surprised by your taste." The prince grins. "Did you mount her yet?"

Minho blanches, feeling humiliated at being caught "of course not. I would never defile myself with such a mongrel."

The prince arches an eyebrow. "It's okay minho. Sometimes you need to slum it down a little. I get that urge too. Cheap prostitutes like her have their draw."

The prince grabs you and pushes her over a table, pulling your skirt up. "Come on kitty. Take her. I know you're dying to."

minho's hesitation evaporate when he sees your pussy exposed and waiting for him. he quickly comes up beind you, pushing his length into you even though you weren't wet. it's uncomfortable but it's not the first time a man shoves his dick into your pussy without bothering to get you wet

it's over soon anyway, the spoiled cat getting overwhelmed by your tight walls and ends up cumming embarrassingly fast. He stumbles away, watching his cum drip from your fucked out hole.

"We'll take her."

Minho looks at him shocked. "I finally have something for my precious pet to fuck. You're so picky."

AU 3:

You were standing outside the gymnasium for a quick smoke when a voice slurs behind you. "Where is your little boyfriend?"

You roll your eyes, already fed up with the boy that is talking to you.

"What, he couldn't stand the thought of fucking you tonight so he ran away?"

You narrow your eyes at him. How did he know you were planning to give your virginity to your Hyunjin tonight? If he had shown up that is.

You don't even know what minho's deal is. He wasn't always like this. You remember a time long, long ago when the two of you were friends. He was so nice and sweet to you when you first met as kids. But then suddenly out of nowhere he turned on you for absolutely no reason.

"Tell me, mutt. What was he gonna give you so he could get between your legs? A pack of cigarettes?" Oh yeah, that’s why. He looks down on you for not being a purebred like him.

You huff the smoke in his face in agitation, still ignoring him.

"Aw, don't be sad. If he won't do it, I can rise to the occasion. Just tell me how much." He goads you. You throw the cigarette to the ground, violently snuffing it out with your heels when an idea pops into your head.

Looking up at him, you reply simply. "50k."

"W-what?"

"You're so fucking obsessed with my sex life so you must really want me. So yeah I'll give it to you for 50k."

"You're a crazy bitch."

you were just messing with him. and he worked. he left you alone

what you never expected was for him to show up the next day at your door, shoving a heavy suitcase into your arms

"what's this?"

"50k." He mumbles.

“Is this a joke?”

“You said you’d give it to me for 50k.” He explains flatly, looking everywhere except at you.

you walk towards him. "You really are a sick pervert, aren't you? Buying my virginity?"

He stays silent, looking at the ground so you grab his jaw and force him to look at you.

"You're not in control. I am. Got it?" You sneer, and he stares for a second, processing that you’re actually agreeing to go through with this, then he nods enthusiastically.

AU 4:

you're a dog hybrid and he's a cat hybrid. He's been kissing you secretly since long ago

You know it's wrong but you like it so you keep it a secret. and you always get so jealous when his heat comes and he goes away to fuck someone else.

When he comes back he's apologetic and spends days trying to make you forgive him. He shouldn't have to. He's not yours.

You touch yourself while you're sleeping next to him a lot. He pretends he doesn't know but it drives him insane

He's waits till you have your first heat. You're supposed to be given to chan but he convinces you not to let your owner know telling you he'll take care of you

You know this is forbidden but you let him fuck you because you're in love with him.

"Oppa this is too much."

"Shh baby take it. You've teased me long enough."

He cums in you but doesn't pull out so he can fuck you more. He's been training himself for this in order to satisfy you.

You get overwhelmed and he laughs at how cute you are. ask him to kiss you so he does

"What a cutie. All mine."

"Open your mouth." He lets a trail of spit fall from his mouth and you obediently open up and take it like you've been taught. He groans and kisses you softly. You whine in his mouth as he fucks you again.

"Not gonna go to that mutt right baby? Only I get to do this to you."

AU 5:

he's the queens pet and you're the leader of a mercenary group the queen has hired to fight a battle for her

he immediately takes an interest in you and follows you around thinking that he's slick

In the beginning, his infatuation was merely amusing to you as you took to teasing him whenever you got the chance--cornering him when the princess wasn't looking and whispering filthy things in his ear. It was both easy and fun to work up the needy kitten.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to walk in on you while you were fucking one of your own hybrids, Chan. The big wolf tended to get rowdy so you were often rough with him to keep him under control, and well that's how the masochistic hybrid liked it too.

You expected him to be terrified of you after that, he certainly looked the part, but he surprised you by coming to you teary eyes and whimpering pleas so moving that you couldn’t resist giving him whatever he asked for, which was badly worded and clueless seeing as he had never been in any kind of physical relationship before.

He’s never done something like this before. His owner, the queen, kept him on a tight leash, untouched and forever pure. He had been taking suppressants ever since his very first heat and, before he met you, he had barely remembered what it was like to feel that painfully delicious pang of pleasure in his belly.

He holds onto you as you pleasure him, one hand fisted in your clothes and the other wrapped around your wrist as if he was afraid you were going to hurt him. If you were to look at his expression, you would think that you were hurting him, a small frown on his face as he whines and whimpers.

You stroke his cheek softly with the back of your fingers, finding it hot to the touch. “What is it, kitten?”

“It hurts.” He sobs.

“I know, baby. I’ll make it go away.” You almost feel guilty for purposefully prolonging his pain, the stimulation you give his cock designed to make him reach the edge at the slowest possible pace, but the truth is you weren’t sorry at all.

“You know, kitten, you should come with me when I leave. I’ll hide you until we’re out of the castle walls. Your princess won’t even realize you’re missing until it’s too late, and when you’re with me, every moment will be filled with pleasure. I’ll take care of you like she never did. I’ll show you a whole world of pleasure. How does that sound, kitty?” You seduce as your thumb flits over his weeping slit, distracting him and seducing him. “Hmm, you wanna come with me?”

“I--I’m not--I don’t know.” He answers nervously, his brain too hazy especially as you finally speed up your strokes, jumbling up all his thought process.

“Don’t think too much, kitten. Don’t you want to feel good?” You purr, tightening your fist around his cock to give him more pleasure.

“Yes, but--”

“No buts, darling. Don’t you wanna be a good kitten for Master?” You ask, referring to yourself and he gasps, his cock jumps in your hand. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You’re a dirty little kitten, aren’t you?”

“No!” He cries, shaking his head from side to side, but there is no denying the way his stomach tightens and his hips buck off the bed as his orgasm approaches and his primal senses take over. “I can’t take it! Please, help me. I can’t--”

His seed splatters across his abdomen as he cums, and you talk him through it. “That’s it, baby. Let go for me. Let it all out. Good kitten.”

you ruin him so thoroughly that he gives into her and lets her fuck him in front of the queen herself

"Lino stop that! You sound like a common whore."

"I can't help it. Mistress… is making me burn up." "Ah fuck." He keens

"Your precious kitten is getting fucked regularly, that’s why he sounds like that. He’s nothing but a loose slut right now. I fucking ruined him. Isn’t that right, kitten?"

"Hah... touch my cock." He drools on the sheets under him and you laugh, grabbing his cock from underneath and starting to milk him. “See? Just a dumb slut.”

___________

A/N: one of these will most likely get a proper fic but I couldn’t keep these to myself

[portia-bts]

Comfort series pt. 1 (Yoongi x reader)

A/n: tons and tons of fluff! Basically you had a long week and your sweet boyfriend saves the day. No warnings!

WC: about 600-700

This past week has stretched on so long you’re sure you’ve aged years by the time Friday night finally rolls around. You finally got off of work and headed home to go look through any school work you have yet to complete in an attempt to clear your Saturday for a day off.

You unlock the door to your apartment as your bags hit the floor and your keys clank sharply into the bowl they belong in. You wince a little at the noise knowing your boyfriend is either resting or recording something and wont be too happy about all the noise you’re making, although he would never say anything. As your thoughts begin to spiral, the image of your sweet boyfriend is enough to push some tears over your lash line, feeling like you upset him giving you the final push to crack and break a little at the seams.

Yoongi saunters down the stairs only to hear sniffles coming from the entry way to the apartment, you hear his steps quicken as he races to you. You look down, worried he’ll see you crying about something so small. You feel his arms around you before you hear him. He’s warm and has probably been resting in bed in his soft tshirt and basketball shorts. You grab onto his shirt and cuddle into him. The lasting notes of his cologne relax you, and your tears finally come to a stop now that you’re safe in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He whispers in your ear

All you have to do is shake your head no for him to understand that bringing it all back up will only cause more tears and sadness. It’s way too much to explain anyway, a thousand things from every corner of your life, the only thing that seems alright is the two of you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You make your way to the main bedroom together yoongi walking you past your office when you try and break away from him.

“Babe you’ve been working all day, your schoolwork can wait for a while, and when you have to tackle it I’ll be right here to help you through it,” he convinces as you give up and make your way to the bathroom in your suite.

You look in the bathroom to see the beginnings of a bath being drawn, candles lit and chocolates out. The eucalyptus in the air relaxes you instantly, and the sight of all the hard work your sweet boyfriend did for you makes your heart swell.

“I didn’t know when you’d be home, but I wanted to make sure you took your time to relax once you got here. You go change into your fuzzy robe, I’m going to finish drawing this bath now that you’re home with me,”

He smirks a little at the lovestruck gaze you stare at him with as he shoos you out of the bathroom to change. When you come back he helps you into the tub and listens to all of your drama from your more than exhausting week. You go to wash your hair, but his hand reaches across you and stops your motions.

“No way baby that’s my job, you relax,” he grabs the soap from the ledge and washes your hair for you while you hum along to the soft music playing in the background.

The rest of the night consisted of Yoongi carrying you to bed, watching your favorite movie and holding you until you finally fell asleep only after he promised to stay in with you tomorrow and help with your homework due the next day.

[highsviolets]

waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :) 

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker​

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

 “as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that’s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest.  And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi ​ @goldafterglow @teaofpeach ​ @justrunamok ​ @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination​ // taglist link in bio!

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Away From Home

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Captain America: The First Avenger

Pairing: 1940s! Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are half a world apart. How are they holding up without each other? ft. some love letters!

Word Count: 1644

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, hint of smut, angst, talk about war, mention of suicide. Please read at your own risk!

Authors Note: Just want to thank my beautiful wife @buckybarnesdiaries for hyping me up with this series! Not everything may be accurate to the 1940s, war or Bucky’s story. My apologies! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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It wasn’t easy being all alone without your other half, but you managed to fill up your day with fun and responsibilities to take your mind off it. The women at the office missed their husbands immensely, just like yourself, so it was good that you all took comfort in one another. It was good to talk with them about the shared feelings of fear and uncertainty that came with the men going off to war.

The office work that was ordinarily boring to you became very interesting as your bosses ordered you around. At home, you had organized your various pieces of literature more times than what was necessary. You couldn’t either count how many times you’ve gone “I missed a spot” on the kitchen counter when it was nothing there in reality.

When there was nothing at home to do, you called up your girlfriends, hoping they would be willing to go out on the town. The few times they were up for it, you forgot all about the hurt inside as you danced the night away with your best friends.

Bucky's parents could come and go as they pleased. Your house was their house; whenever they wanted to drop by, they could. On the weekends, they would invite you home to their residence for dinner and drinks. It was sweet of them to ask you. You already had a strong relationship with them that only increased with you spending more time with your parents-in-law.

The stories they would tell you about James growing up in Indiana with his siblings were stored in your memories to use late at night when you couldn’t sleep. Those thoughts would turn into dreams and scenarios of him and your child that you would hopefully get pregnant with soon.

On the few occasions his parents and your girlfriends had other plans, you sat mostly inside staring at one spot on the wall. The book by your side would only be read a few pages before it was placed to the side again so you could continue gawking at the flower patterns on the wall.

That’s how you were sat now. The television was on, but you weren’t paying attention to the boring movie you had watched countless times playing on the screen. You decided that you would write another letter to James. Writing letters to your husband and receiving letters from him was the thing that brought you joy and was the closest you could come to him for the time being. Picking up the pen and paper, the words flowed easily as you wrote.

~~~~~~~~~~

My Dearest,

I feel I must write you again altho there is not much news to tell you from the last time I wrote. Work is keeping me busy, while your parents’ comfort and the fun my girlfriends are bringing keeps me content. I dreamt last night my husband. I dreamt about a child. Our child. A child that will bring us love and joy in the future.

I miss you terribly, my love. I miss the warmth from your touch as we are tangled in the sheets together. I miss the softness of your voice as the words whispered in my ear are meant for me only. I miss your laugh filling up the house that feels so empty now without you. I miss you. There is nothing more that I desire in life but to have you with me constantly.

I wonder how you are getting along, my love. I shall be so relieved to get a letter from you. I can’t help feeling a bit anxious for you, my dear. Thinking about what you are going through in the gruesome war overseas. I pray to whatever higher power exists for you to survive and come home to me in my arms.

Well, my husband, my brave soldier, I don’t know what more to say now, so I will finish this letter with fondest love and kisses from your wife.

I love you the most. From yours truly,

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

You sealed up the envelope containing your love letter for your husband, your other half, your soul mate, and hoped that it would bring him a hint of delight in his usual dark, empty and deadly war days.

Somewhere in hostile Germany…

With barely enough sleep from the night before, Bucky rested his eyes for the few minutes they had before it was out on another day of fighting the opposition. The faint sound of bombs dropping was heard in the distance. His heart started pumping in both fear and excitement to be out there again.

As his eyes were closed, he sat and wondered what his wife was up to at the moment. You were most likely at work. What would you have for dinner later? Something good, he hoped. It would at least be ten times better than what he ate for breakfast, soggy bread with a slice of cheese on top.

His mouth watered at the thought of a homemade meal from you right now. You always made the tastiest and fulfilling dinners.

What were you doing after? Out with your girlfriends? Were his parents coming to visit? Either way, he hoped you had the most beautiful time being as carefree as you always were.

When the darkness came, and it was time for bed, what would you be doing? Had the day been exhausting that you dropped dead on the covers as soon your head hit the pillow, or would you stay up and think about him?

His mind started racing to you, touching yourself dead at night while you remembered the last time the two of you were intimate. The thought about you moaning his name so softly and innocently had him adjusting himself in the seat.

Not now, Buck. We have to leave soon. There’s no time for that now.

“BARNES! Post for you.”

Once he had the letter in hand, he immediately knew it was you from the little drawing you drew on the envelope. You always did some form of artwork on it that had his heart warm up.

A single tear ran down his cheek after finishing the heartwarming letter. He could never fully express to you and his parents how these letters had saved him when he needed it the most. When he had thought about ending it all after watching the inhumane things he had witnessed that no human should ever have to see, the pieces of love from you and his family were what kept him going.

There was still some time left before they had to go out to war again. So he took that chance at writing a reply to his wife.

~~~~~~~~~~

My Darling,

Thank you for the heartwarming letter. It found me well in the time when I needed it the most. I so long to be close to you. Trust my love that I do not forget you. I am doing everything in my power so that these few lines reach you.

I am happy to hear that you are keeping yourself busy with work, friends, and family. I’m jealous.

I miss you terribly, my love. If only we could be together soon. I’d give anything to be back in the comfort of your arms. To be tangled in the sheets together. To feel you wrapped so tightly around me in all the ways possible. To hear your laugh that fills my heart with warmth and butterflies. Soon my love, soon.

A child? I’ll give you as many children as you want when I return safely to you. We will buy a big house out in the countryside to raise our children and grow old if that’s what my wife desires.

The war? I don’t know what there is to say? I won’t sugarcoat it. The war is brutal and gruesome. It is something I don’t even wish upon my worst enemy to experience the things I’ve seen and gone through. Don’t be alarmed, my love, by the words you just read. As long as I have you in my mind, I can make it through the days and nights.

There is not much more for the time being to write to you. Just know that I am coming back to you after the terrible war is over.

I love you the most. From your brave soldier,

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

He sealed it up in an envelope, and he once again hoped that this wouldn’t be the last letter he ever wrote to you.

A few weeks later…

You waited anxiously out on the steps of your home for the postman to arrive. Legs were bouncing up and down in anticipation if today was the day a new letter from James would arrive.

“Morning, ma’am,” the postman nodded at you. By now, he knew very well who you were as he would find you most days waiting for him to bring you the mail.

“I believe this is yours.” He handed you a single letter. A smile on his face once he saw the excitement on yours when you realize it was from your husband.

“Thank you, George.”

“Have a wonderful day, Y/N.” “You too.”

You opened it right there on the steps. There was no time to walk a few meters into the house to read it.

You took the time to read the lines on the paper written by your love. Sadness came over you as you read the part about war, but a smile was left on your lips nonetheless after you had read the whole thing a few times over.

You clutched it to your heart. To try and feel that extra bit of love that radiated off it. A few tears rolled down your cheeks.

Soon my love. Soon you will be back safe and sound in my arms again.

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

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[hypmic-writings]

not me coming back with the manga artist s/o thing but with fling posse instead,,, i love my boys 🥺🥺🥺💖

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Pairing: Ramuda Amemura x reader; Gentaro Yumeno x Reader; Dice Arisugawa x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: This one was previously asked for with Ichiro here, and it was cute to do it with the Fling Posse Boys too! Hope you enjoy~

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Ramuda Amemura

Ramuda thinks it’s amazing that you’re a manga artist

he draws a little bit himself, but it’s mostly sketches and most of the time it’s only for clothes or fashion ideas

so when he sees you drawing panels for stories in manga, he thinks it’s way more cool than anything he’s ever drawn

“Wow, Y/N you’re so amazing at drawing! Look at the way you did these patterns on the hero’s costume, that’s so cool!”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Ramuda, you sketch out stuff like this all the time, right?”

he’ll beg you to look at them before they’re properly finished and will constantly be trying to guess where the manga will go next

he’s going to give advice or ideas unprompted, but he won’t really care if you use them or not, he just likes talking about them

if you ever ask him for his idea regarding some of the character designs and their clothes, you better be ready for him to take complete creative liberties and total control

because he gets carried away very easily

whenever he sees you drawing, he just sits next to you and stares at you or will peer over your shoulder to watch

and if you ask him to leave he’s going to get sad

he stocks up on all of the manga you’ve ever drawn for and loves to go through all of them, pointing out his favorite panels and asking how you draw specific types of things

you might even inspire him to draw, but I headcanon that he’s actually pretty bad at drawing if it’s not sketching

he might be pouting about it, but just encourage him and tell him to keep trying and he’ll be happy

he definitely gets the word out about your manga and sells them at the front of his store

whenever people ask him why, he immediately dives into the way that you draw clothing, but the main reason he’s just doing it to help you sell your manga

whenever he gets one of his customers or long time clients wrapped around his finger, he’s pushing them to buy the manga

and you honestly think it’s really endearing that he wants to help you with your career as much as he does

Gentaro Yumeno

Gentaro thinks your artwork is simply beautiful and he loves looking at all of the manga panels you make

“Really, darling, you should be proud of your work. It’s quite inspiring, you know, I might have to go write for a while”

“Thanks Gentaro, but there are actually a ton of little mistakes”

every time he gets a sneak peek at some of the manga panels you’re working on, he gets inspired to write

he’s definitely based some short stories on the practice sketches you’ve done and although you think they’re mortifyingly bad, he thinks they’re lovely

he also thinks it’s quite amusing that he’s a writer and you’re an artist and you’re so compatible with each other...it just seems right to him 

when you bring up the possibility of a collaboration, Gentaro is surprised because he’s never written a manga before

but the idea of working with you makes him want to try so the two of you have your own little side project where he writes and does most of the storyboarding and you draw the panels

the two of you also publish a little children’s novel under false names and it ends up being a massive success 

but you two kind of just did it as a joke and now it’s a New York Times Bestseller and you’re both just laughing

I headcanon that Gentaro is actually a fairly good artist and that he can do little sketches here and there

so when you tell him that his drawings are actually quite good he’s going to get uncharacteristically embarrassed because he’s so used to teasing you and not really caring much about any of his talents other than writing

that when you actually compliment him on his sketches, he finds himself interested in drawing a bit more

of course, he would much rather write out the story and have you illustrate it since your drawing prowess is much better

Gentaro is interested to learn all about how you got into the manga illustration business because he finds you fascinating

100% will ask you to reenact one of your favorite manga chapters and if you say no, he will reenact it with Dice and Ramuda 

overall, he’s going to be extremely supportive of your career as an artist and will be a huge supporter of yours 

Dice Arisugawa

Dice thinks it’s the coolest thing ever that you draw manga

he’s definitely read a lot of manga, always finding random chapters of random series’ here and there at the local thrift stores

so when you tell him that’s what you do for a living he’s going to get starry eyed and ask if you get to know all of the plotlines for the manga you write for ahead of time

absolutely do not give him any leaks because he will sell that information on the internet for as much as he possibly can

and then you’re going to be the one in trouble and he’s not going to understand why

when you tell him which manga you write for, he’s immediately going online to read all of them as fast as he can

stopping to admire certain panels that look cool to him or look like they might have been complicated to draw

he definitely thinks it’s impressive that you can draw like you do 

I headcanon that Dice pretends to be horrible at drawing and always does stick figures and scribbles

but that he was actually put into art classes by his wealthy family as a young boy to hone his skills 

so he would actually be brilliant at painting if he ever put his mind to it

“Y/N, this panel is so cool! How did you draw this explosion going from one page all the way to the other?”

“It’s actually a pretty common technique. Here, I’ll show you a similar one I did in this other manga I was drawing for.”

Dice loves watching you draw, but sometimes his eyes glaze over when you try to explain the intricacies of drawing and setting and all of the other little details that go into manga drawing

so you just let him support you from the sidelines as he peers over your shoulder, excitedly saying how cool that page will turn out

and he definitely does support you

he’s actually started to make sure that he puts aside money from his gambling winnings (when he gets them) to buy a copy of your manga

because even though he knows you’ll have your own copy, he wants to be able to show you that he loves and supports you career

and the best way he knows how to do that is splurging some of his precious coin

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

[thenextchapter22]

Mail Order... Kitten Girl

Part 8: Aw Rats

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Tail Fucking

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Link to my AO3: Click Here

In this chapter: Kitten and Barbatos spend time together!

Part One  Part Two  Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Authors Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBATOS!! This one is for you :))

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

It was an early morning on a weekday. You woke up slowly, snuggling into the demon body beside you in bed. Sleeping in Belphie’s room was always your top favorite spots to get a great nights sleep. Surrounded in his bed with all his blankets and pillows he stacked up plus his warm arms around you, that was the best.

You were shaken out of the slumber by Beel shaking his twin’s arm, saying, “Belphie, Kitten, get up and eat.”

Belphie groaned, squeezing your body to him, nuzzling the back of your neck with his heated breath caressing you. “Mmmm... ‘s early, Beel. Later...”  

The temptation to stay was strong, but your stomach gurgled and you decided to get up.  

Wiggling in Belphie’s strong hold until you faced him instead of the wall, he opened one eye just enough to stare at you questionably. “Cuddle me later?” you said through a yawn.  

Your youngest demon Master sighed, but gave you one final squeeze around your waist, lingering just above your bottom with his fingers, and kissed you gently. “Fine... Go on,” he said, and opened his arms to free you.  

Beel helped you climb over him. As soon as you were out of the bed, Belphie went right back to sleep.  

With a smiling sigh, Beel shook his head. “C’mon, Kitten. I’ve made one of your favorites for breakfast so let’s get you dressed.”  

You picked at the thin silk short set you had worn to bed. Sleeping with any of them, you liked to wear little to almost nothing. Firstly, because a lot of them ran hot, and secondly so that you could feel their bodies closer to you. That extra touch made your body feel good.

You sat on Beel’s bed, waiting for him to pick out an outfit for you. Almost all of your Master’s liked to dress you. And because you usually stayed in one of their rooms, sometimes a different demon each night so it was fair—they liked to fight a lot about that—they had clothes ready for the next day.

The redheaded demon chose a soft pair of leggings and a short-sleeved scoop neck shirt, also soft,  probably fleece . You smiled at the plain underwear he helped you slip on.  Asmo , Lucifer, and Satan all liked to give you lace undies and bras, but the others preferred comfort for you. Either way you  didn’t  mind, they were your owners after all and you liked them dressing you up. The fun of it was seeing the  different styles.  

After you were clothed, Beel took your hand and smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

You smiled right back and nodded, “Mmhm! ‘m hungry, Master.”

“Me too. I haven't eaten in minutes.”

Giggling, the both of you left Belphie to the room and went to eat.

Breakfast for you was perfect. Waffles soaked in syrup, piled high with berries and whipped cream. Sausages and eggs, too.  The table was full, aside from Belphie. Your Masters all ate their weird demon foods. The day was looking to be a great one!

Once your belly was full, that was when your morning turned from sweet to just plain sour.

The worst news was given to you, and in anger you lashed out.

Which was why now, you sat dejectedly on the couch, arms crossed and tail swishing across your lap, the tip fuzzed out. You poked at your collar that was almost forced on you, a black leather collar that wasn’t uncomfortable but not your favorite, thick and ugly. A long leash was attached to it, and on the other end was Lucifer holding it. Usually you liked the leash, but not when it was a punishment.

Everyone was in the common room now, even Belphie who had gotten up after hearing the news. They either stood around you or sat on the furniture, but they all were looking at you with small smiles or smirks.

You were  not  amused. If you were an actual cat, your fur would be stuck up like the tip of your tail was.

The bad news that caused this problem... your Masters were leaving for the whole day to a RAD Student Council member only meeting that Lord Diavolo was holding.  

You hated being alone. But because Barbatos was staying behind to make a feast for when they came back, he had volunteered to watch you.  

When Lucifer went on and explained he was going to take you to Lord Diavolo’s castle for the hand  off of  yourself to the demon butler, you obviously did not want to go or for them to go and as such you had clawed at him, and thus the leash.  

You didn’t draw blood, Lucifer was too fast for that, but the reaction was enough to be punished.

Huffing in your seat, you refused to not look angry. They were leaving you... again!

Lucifer sighed, and patted the top of your head a few times. “Bad kitty’s get punished, my dear,” he said matter of fact.

Your nose twitched. “I know...”

“You promise to behave for Barbatos?” Satan asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Master...”

“Don’t look so upset, it will only be for a few hours...”

“Why can’t I just be at home alone?” you asked, glancing at them all with wide eyes.

Asmo cooed. “Last time Simeon took too long, kitty cat, and you were upset with us. We’re just looking after you.”

You pouted.

Beel smiled. “Barbatos is excited to see you. And he said he wants you to taste test some of his bakes today. I’m jealous.” He drooled.

Your ears perked up. “R-really?” You licked your lips. Barbatos was the best baker you knew. His cakes and pies and basically everything he made was yummy.

“Kitten looks happy now!” Mammon said with a grin.

Satan agreed, “She looks like the cat who got the cream.”

Asmo giggled. “She probably will, too, and I mean to say Barbatos’~”

The others groaned or chuckled. You didn’t know what that meant, but you did love cream.

“We’re having a big feast later at Lord Diavolo’s castle, so be sure not to eat too much,” Lucifer said, and then announced it was time to go.

You stood as Lucifer started for the front door, the leash taught. Your Masters all said their respective goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’ and it made you very happy inside. You would miss them so much.  

Maybe it was better to not be alone, so you wouldn’t be so sad and think about them until they came home.

Turning on your heel before the front door, you smiled. “I love you, too, my Masters.” And you meant that, truly.

They all cooed, or grinned, and you waved goodbye.  

It was only for the day, right?

_+_

The walk to Lord Diavolo’s wasn't too long. Barbatos let you inside the main entrance where you waited to be handed off like a true pet.

“Welcome, Lucifer, Kitten. We are going to have a good time together today, hm?” the demon butler smiled at you kindly.

You peeked at him from behind Lucifer and nodded once. Still, something inside of you was a little peeved.

“I trust you will be good?” Lucifer asked you, a stern look in his red eyes.

“Yes, Master, I'll be good,” you said.

Lucifer handed the leash to Barbatos, who took it without a single question. You wondered if Lucifer told him what happened and why you had the leash at all.

“She will be well looked after, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nodded. He gave you a single kiss on your forehead. “Behave, Kitten,” he said, and then he was gone out the door. You watched as he transformed into his demon form and flew off, majestic and sexy. You did love his wings; they were so soft.

“Kitten? Let’s go.” Barbatos smiled at you again, and gestured with his hand for you to go ahead and step further in the Castle.

You frowned, but did, and you found yourself in the kitchen after a little bit of walking.  

The room was a far cry from the House of Lamentation’s kitchen. First it was much larger, higher ceilings, and had several ovens and even more cooking equipment. There were tons of cabinets and a large black table off to the side. The floors were nicer on your shoes, less chance of tripping on wood floors than badly lain cement blocks.

While you glanced around, you felt a tug on your leash and a click, and Barbatos was hanging your leash on a hook on the wall before you knew what happened.

“Wha-?”

“It will be easier for the both of us. I won’t say anything if you won’t?”

You giggled. The collar was still on, but that was fine by you. “Okay!”

“Perfect. Over this way please.” He led you to a counter, and there was a ton of ingredients out. They smelled sweet, salty, bitter. Some of them looked good, others odd colored or shaped, but still had a good aroma. “Today you can help me prepare the meal for their return.”

Your ears fell. “I can’t cook...”

"That's not a problem. You have two hands, and so you can mix. And taste test for me as well.”

Now  that  you could do with great pleasure. “Yes, I want to help!”

He chuckled. “I assumed so. We are only preparing desserts now; I will finish the rest of the meal later so it's fresh. Let’s begin, shall we?”

Baking with Barbatos was fun. You got to eat so many tasty things. He let you lick the spoon with the frosting, and gave you little chocolate chips. Mixing dry ingredients for him was harder than it looked and you got some flour on yourself, but that was why you had the apron on.  

Although, it was strange that he already had the perfect one for you. It certainly was not for one of the demon brothers or Diavolo (right?).

After cooking for a long time, eating and mixing and opening and closing the ovens, setting all the pretty treats under domes on counters or in the fridge, you were totally exhausted. All the hard work and eating had really wore you out.  

You yawned a few times, and rubbed at your eyes.

“Is it time for a cat nap?” he teased.

“Barb, I’m tired.” You yawned again.

He softly laughed. “All right. Come with me, Kitten.” He put the palm of his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the kitchen. You were taken around a few doors and small hallways to a wide window with a bed seat cushion, and it faced a garden full of flowers and wildlife.

“So pretty...” you were in awe.

“I thought you might like the view. Rest for a while and I will wake you up once you’ve gotten the proper sleep.”

You curled up on the warm bedding and purred. The sun was shining in the spot, and you could fit yourself perfectly in a ball. “Thank you~”

Barbatos smiled down at you, and pet your head, his hand lingering on your neck to squeeze once. It gave you the shivers. “You’re very welcome, Kitten. Sweet dreams.”

You fell asleep watching the birds flutter around and chirp.  

When you woke up it was still sunny, but not directly on you. And you watched the garden for a while, and then you saw it.

A rat, scurrying across the field.

You made a sound and bared your teeth at it.

The window had a latch, and you undid it and crawled out to step into the garden. You were quiet, stealthy, your prey was right there. You caught it in your claws and squeezed until it was dead.

This was the perfect present to say thank you!

Barbatos had not come for you yet, so you set the dead rat on the floor of the room, waiting for Barbatos to come fetch you.  

And when he came inside, he froze up, and stared at your gift. “Kitten.”

“Barb~ I got you a gift, it’s right there.” Your tail flickered in happiness, and you grinned a fanged smile at him, proud and excited.

He tensed as he walked around it, but did not pick it up. “Did you touch that thing?” he asked instead.

“Yes, with my claws. I killed it for you!”

“I see...” He held out his arms, and frowned. “Let’s go wash your hands,” he said.

You pouted. “Are you not going to take my present?”

Barbatos’ brows furrowed. “Kitten, I appreciate the gift, however...”

Now you understood, and your eyes watered. “Y-you hate it, don’t you?”

“Not at all, kitty, not at all. I just want to take care of you first.” He grabbed you under your arms and you were taken back to the kitchen, legs wrapped around his waist. You felt like a toddler but the warmth of his body was nice. “You need to clean up before you touch anything else.”

He directed you to stand before the sink and place your hands inside. The water was hot on your hands and you cried out. He apologized, and quickly turned it down, and then poured soap on your hands, helping wash them, getting between your fingers and under your claws.

“Rats carry diseases, and Devildom rats even more. I want you to be more careful.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Barbatos gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine. There now, let’s dry them and then we can get back to baking together.”

You dried your hands and frowned down at the tiles. “I just wanted to thank you...”

He cupped your cheek and had you look at him. “I know, but you don’t need to thank me with that,” he said, not unkindly.

Oh, so that’s what he was getting at. Well, your Master’s did not say you couldn’t please Barbatos, and he did take care of you. This was the only other way you knew how to say you were grateful for him feeding you delicious snacks and letting you sleep in the cozy sun spot.

“I can thank you like this,” you said, and knelt down on the floor right in front of him, your face at his crotch.

There was one quick inhaled from the demon butler. His gloved finger lifted your head up for him to stare down at you with his pretty green eyes. There was a slight hue on his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me at all.”

You licked your lips. “I want to. Please? Can I see your cock and suck it?”

He began thumbing your bottom lip. “If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t say no.” Then he made a concerned face. “Do you want something for your knees?”

You nodded, glad Barbatos was such a kind demon. “Please...” and he somehow had a throw pillow in his hands, and you lifted one knee at a time to get situated. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Quickly you helped him out of his pants, slipping them to the floor. As you did his hand caressed the top of your head, and you felt his dark gaze on you, watching every move you made. As his pants dropped to the floor, he stepped out of them, kicking them away. The mess was so unlike the butler from what you had seen.

Now he was just in his underwear, a silk dark green pair that outlined his cock and balls. You nuzzled his clothed dick. “Smells good, Barby.”  

“Mmm, you like the smell of cock, Kitten?”

You nodded. “Yesss-”  

His hand went to your hair at the back of your head to lightly tug. The pain mixed with his scent urged you on, and you had his boxers pulled down, and he was quicker in stepping out of those. His cock out inches from your mouth, half hard. Before you sucked it, you grabbed it to stroke it to life. You licked the tip once, he gasped. Then you swallowed him down and peeked up at him with a certain look, unmoving. Waiting for him to do something.

He got the idea and smiled. “Do you want me to use your mouth?”  

You hummed, hopeful he understood it meant yes. And he understood because he began using your mouth. Filling it with his slicked head, hitting your tongue and roof of your mouth. Your lips were swelling up, and you suckled and slurped at his cock.

Clawed hands went to his waist, holding him steady as his fingers clutched your hair to do the same. The pain and scent surrounding you had your pussy wetting up, soaking your undies. But this was for him, about Barbatos’ pleasure. And a Kitten could please their Master, or their Master’s friends, and you would do a good job of it, too.

Breathing through your nose, you kept a firm hold on his hips, and your tail helped by wrapping around his thigh once to squeeze. His legs were bare, strong looking. You looked up at him, and met his dark eyes, flecks of black creeping in to those slate green iris’. It was sexy and you moaned.

“Ahh, Kitten,” he moaned. His hand not at your hair went to touch your tail, wrapped around a part of it and stroked like you had done to his dick. “Such a soft tail."

You moaned louder, vibrating around his cock, tonguing the underside with your flattened muscle, flexing. He tasted tangy and filled your mouth perfectly, and a little precum trickled onto your taste buds.

The demon butler tensed and grunted out a warning before he came in your mouth, and only then did you let him go. You held his spent cum in your mouth on your tongue, and showed it to him before swallowing. It was bitter, but you had worse.

“Such a naughty thing,” he commented, and pet your hair from your cheeks.  

He smiled, and in his eyes was something new you hadn’t seen. He put his clothes back to right, and before you could react, he had you in his arms and then deposited you on the long kitchen table. The throw pillow was shoved under your body to lift you up at your lower half, and it helped keep your tail from being squished. But you were confused.

“Barb-”

“Hush now.” He stood at your feet, a demonic grin truly. “I shall return the favor,” he whispered. Barbatos’ appearance shifted, and he was in his demon form, his twin-tipped tails flickering behind him, his bat-like horns gleaming in the kitchen light.

His hands torn down your pants to your ankles, and you let him, him taking off your shoes next to leave you in socks and your top. Then you were spread open, panties glistening, socked feet flat on the table. He had you bend your legs so he could grasp your knees to keep you like that, but your pants hugged at your ankles like restraints.

Those eyes of his were basically neon green they were glowing, and he stared at your clothed core, and you tightened in response. Could he see the flex of your pussy?  

“You got wet from sucking me, hm... How delightful.” His finger went to your waist, tugging under the band, and it snapped apart. He tore your underwear from you and exposed your vagina to the air, the coolness hitting your burning heat, wetness growing.

“Ahh, B-barb-"

His tails were hovering your vagina, twitching, and you leaned your head down to watch. You couldn’t see much past your belly as he lifted you up, but you knew what his intentions were.

You begged for it, “please, inside...”

He did not hesitate. His tail slowly went inside your pussy, thick, slimy, softly scaled. It was bigger than you figured, and you tightened down and wiggled your hips.

He tore his glove off with his teeth, and his bare finger circled your clit, the sparks of pleasure helping the stretch. “It’s okay, you can take it. Be a good kitty.”

You clenched down on him again and he winced for a second, but then his tail slithered deeper and flicked at the tip to hit that spot inside and you saw stars, clutching the table at each end with clawed hands.

“You’re damaging the wood,” he said with a bit of humor, but did nothing to stop you. His finger circled your clit faster and harder, and you were close but still felt like it wasn’t enough.

That was when his second tail spread your cheeks apart to press to your anus, slimy from the wetness leaking from your pussy. You were not ready for that, not now.

You cried, “nnngg, not there, please.” Your own tail swooshed in the air, a nervous twitch, and a warning that you did not like that.

Barbatos kissed your inner thigh, holding your knee wider with one hand as his tail fucked you, sloppy sounds echoing in the room along with your heavy panting. “I know, beautiful thing, I won’t.” He left the tail tip there, slipping over your hole to join the other at your pussy, pressing against its twin. “You can take two, can you not?”

You tensed and sobbed. “P-please,” you desperately wanted to be torn open.

He grinned, sharp teeth, and shoved his second tail in along with the other. You arched your back and tossed your head to the side and sobbed, burning and intense pleasure/pain encompassing you. “Ahhhgg~”

The pace he set was fast and rough, the double tails slipping in and out and scrapping at the best parts of you, no time to adjust. “You’re so sweet, yet so naughty. I want to feel your pussy on my cock someday.”

“Uhh, yes, yes, want that-”

“Hm, I know you do.”

He was so himself like this. Barbatos was commanding and sure in his movements, and it was perfection. His head went between your legs and his mouth found your clit and licked and kissed wet and sloppily. You wished you could watch as he did, but your position only let you see his head bobbing, and his tail motioning in and out between your thighs.

He kept his mouth on your clit, swishing his tongue back and forth. “Purr for me, kitty,” he pulled back to say, and then with insane speed he fucked you with his serpent tails and licked you, like a vibrator toy for your clit.

The heat was reaching your belly in a boiling point now. Your body was hot, tense, and your toes curled, and then with an arched back, your belly tightened up and you were finished. “Cumming, Barb, cummiinnnnggg~” you exclaimed, spurting all over.  

It lasted a few moments, but felt like longer. You kept your eyes shut and felt the excess amount of your own juices dripping out. The sparks went with the beat of your heart as you calmed down, almost like an exposed wire feeling every single thing. Your shirt was sweaty. Your throat sore, from both screaming your pleasure and holding some back. There was a little bit of tears drying on your cheeks.

When you did open your eyes, Barbatos was hovering over your head, smiling that gentle smile, this time it reached his kind eyes. “So pretty for me,” Barbatos murmured, kissing your cheek. “I need to clean you up now.”

You hummed, shutting your eyes as fireworks popped up in your vision. “Mmm, clean up,” you copied.

He chuckled, and lifted you up in his arms, and you whined but allowed it. “Come on kitty, you can have another nap after.”

You sighed. “Love naps.”

“I gathered that. You may be a second Belphegor and we just don’t know it.”

You giggled. “Mmmm.” What a silly thing to say.

_+_

“She looks exhausted,” Lucifer commented. He had a slight smirk in his eyes and on his lips, but not enough for the average person to see.

Barbatos shared a similar look. “Oh yes, we had an eventful evening, didn’t we?” You flushed red, ignoring the question, and he went on, holding out a few containers. “Here. To take home with you. The feast will begin in a few hours, but I know Beel will like to have some extras.” Barbatos handed you the boxes. “Thank you for all your help today, Kitten. Anytime you want to stop by, feel free.” The green of his eyes shone, mischievous.

You held in the whine, because you  did  want to visit again. But the teasing was too much and you were exhausted mentally and physically. You didn’t even want to be standing right then.

You looked at Lucifer and asked, “Master, can we go home now?”

“Yes, we can.” He took the leash from Barbatos and you both left Lord Diavolo’s castle for the House of Lamentation.

And if Lucifer noticed the limp in your walk, he said nothing on it.  

Thankfully you were not in trouble. Your Masters, it seemed, did not care if you shared yourself. But you had to wonder the limitations of that... you’d ask another time.

So, you went home to rest before the feast, but in the end you did not go. You actually stayed behind with Levi who had plans to be online that night (Diavolo played video games, you heard, so he excused the Envy demon).

Snuggled up with him on the beanbag you lazily watched him play, occasionally getting soft pets between battles. It was boring to just watch, but you had enough excitement. This was a perfect way to end a sweet day.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (March 12/2021) - Exiting the Vault

After Sam finally checks the cell and discovers that Tommy is alive, Tommy exits Pandora’s Vault at last. Everyone on the server starts coming to terms with Tommy’s return, while both Tommy and Ranboo are set on a new goal:

To kill Dream for good.

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Tubbo

Fundy

Tommy

Jack Manifold

Ranboo

Eret

---

- Tommy is in prison. Still there.

Dream: “I’m starving! Can you give me that? Can I have that?”

- Tommy throws him a potato.

Tommy: “I only have one.”

Dream: “Oh, well you can have it then.”

- Tommy eats some potatoes.

Tommy: “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why do you look like that?”

Dream: “It’s a mask.”

- They talk about Dream face-revealing and Tommy concludes that it must be sewn onto his face.

Dream: “Sam has not visited us in like a week! He hates me!”

- Tommy throws him the last of his potatoes. There’s no way of knowing how long time’s passed in the cell.

Tommy: “I’m still...I can’t believe you did that.”

Dream: “You were the one pushing me to do it! You were basically begging me to!”

- Tommy throws an item frame, a book and two potatoes into the lava.

- He boasts that he hasn’t cried 

- Tommy sees Sam’s nametag by the lava and rushes over. Sam tells Tommy to run to the corner and Tommy gets out via damage pot. Tommy confronts Sam about letting him die. Sam is just shocked to see him alive.

- Tommy flicks the switches to let the lava down, wanting to look at Dream. He says a last “fuck you” and walks after Sam to get out.

Tommy: “Suck it, green boy.”

- Tommy tells Sam off for failing at his job again, as they go through the security measures.

Tommy: “Sam, you kept me in this prison for thirty-two days!”

Sam: “Tommy, I didn’t even know you were here -- I haven’t even gone to feed him!”

- He tells Sam that Dream is going to escape.

Tommy: “You are now the most powerful man on this server -- not Dream, you are, ‘cause you withhold him! And you can’t even stop him from killing me! You’re not qualified to run this prison, Sam.But that’s beyond the point, alright? Look at me -- Dream is going to escape, he told me that he’s planning on escaping, alright? Technoblade owes him a favor, Technoblade owes him a favor -- I’ve seen everything!”

- Tommy tells Sam that he can’t have any visitors ever. He tells Sam about the revive book, that that’s how he’s back.

- Tommy exits through the Nether portal. The first thing he sees when he gets out is the giant penis statue.

- He starts walking down the path and sees Tubbo working on Bee ‘n’ Boo. Tubbo sees him and runs away initially. He doesn’t believe Tommy is real.

- Tommy points out the bench where they listened to music after defeating Dream -- but they didn’t defeat Dream, and now they need to kill him and also probably Technoblade.

- Tubbo tells Tommy about the inn and also getting married.

- Next, Tommy speaks with Sam Nook and sees Jack Manifold at the desk. Jack is outraged.

Jack: “No, you’re dead, you’re dead! You died, I grieved for you! You’re not back! No one comes back, I mean -- oh -- MOST people don’t come back!”

Tommy: “No I’m alright. Anyway, um --”

- Jack is furious. He tells Tommy he’s been trying to kill him for two months.

Jack: “That’s the problem. All the time, you belittle me, you dismiss me, you drop me in a pool of lava, I’m the only person who tried to visit you when you were in exile, and you forget me! Like I’m nothing! And when I try and finally get my own back, I launch NUKES at you and you didn’t even care!”

- Tommy talks about Moana. Then they argue some more.

Tommy: “Jack, what you’re doing here is creating a villain for yourself, alright? And when I was gone, you didn’t have that. You’re so glad I’m back, you need to stop -- you’re just creating a villain out of nowhere, alright?”

- Tommy tells Jack he’s changed, he’s seen things in death, he’s trying to hold himself together like it’s still the old him, but he’s struggling.

- Jack draws his axe. Tommy tells him to put it away.

Jack: “You died and you think you’re all that, you think you learned everything. I died! We died! I died because of you!”

- Tommy leaves the hotel, telling Jack he can keep the hotel for now while he deals with bigger issues.

Jack: “This isn’t the end.”

Tommy: “It probably is.”

- Tommy sees Tubbo watching him from on top of the McPuffy’s.

Tommy: “He’s staring at me like I’m not even real. And he’s got a new best friend -- a new husband!”

- He sees all the statues by his house. Connor is inside, freaked out to see him. 

- Tommy tells Connor to move out again, and Connor gives him his diary -- Connor misses Schlatt, wants to solve mortality, knows Karl’s secret (thinks he should see a doctor) and missed Tommy when he died.

- Tommy tells Connor what he went through. Connor says they need prison reform. Tommy tells Connor that Sam isn’t fit to run the prison, and Connor moves back into Ninja’s house. 

- He takes a quick look at L’manhole.

Tommy: “I fuckin’ miss when times were simpler, and all I had to worry about was defeating one big green guy. And all I had to do was follow someone else’s lead. And now it looks like I’m gonna have to follow my own lead. So the server seems to have changed a lot.”

- As he walks down the stairs, Antfrost stares at him and backs away. Tommy wonders why no one’s treating him normally.

- He finds Ranboo by the ice cream shop, Tubbo coming along as well. Ranboo asks about what happened -- did Sam lie? Tommy doesn’t want to talk about dying.

- Tommy asks if Tubbo is Ranboo’s best friends. Ranboo says he’s one of them and hands Tommy an allium. Tommy burns it.

- Tommy continues along the path and notices the Therapuffy office. He drops a book in the chest. He also notices the Red Banquet posters.

- Tommy feels like even though he’s back, he’s not. People celebrated his death.

Tommy: “This server was -- this server wasn’t about this, it was about me and Tubbo fighting Dream! I’m still dead to most of these people...They’re looking at me like I’m not even alive.”

- He finds Quackity by the Community House. Quackity thinks it must be some sort of sick joke. Tommy reminds him of the heists they used to do to convince him that it’s actually him.

- Tommy tells Quackity that Dream used the revive book. Quackity is overjoyed at his return.

- Tommy leaves and goes up towards the Nether portal. He decides that he needs to kill Dream, and soon.

- Jack is upset that Tommy came back. It took him dying for Jack to remember Tommy as a friend again, but when he came back, it all came flooding back.

“But when he came back today, he said a couple things that have stuck with me. The main one being...a simple word. He turned to me, looked me dead in the eyes, and he went ‘anyways.’ Anyways.”

- Jack decides he’s done with starting again. 

“But the day he died, the day he was killed by Dream was not the day I should’ve grieved. I lost my friend a long, long time ago...I lost my friend a long time ago, the day he decided those discs were more important than any of us. The day he got rid of L’manburg, the day he sacrificed absolutely everything to take back those discs! That’s the day I lost my friend.”

“Him coming back today doesn’t bring back my friend. It doesn’t fill the empty void I felt when he died. All it has done is given me a new purpose.”

- Jack decides he needs to kill Tommy. His friend died a long time ago. He talks about how even when Dream is locked away, Tommy isn’t satisfied and is still going after him.

- Jack came back because he had a purpose. And that purpose was to take Tommy out.

“I’m glad I grieved my friend, and I’m still sad and hurt that he’s gone. But my friend didn’t come back. Dream didn’t bring back my friend with that book, he brought back a monster.”

- Dream brought Tommy back out of cowardice, fearing the server without him. Jack is better than Dream. 

- Jack heads into the underground city and speaks with Niki. Jack tells her Tommy’s alive again. Niki isn’t sure she wants Tommy dead anymore.

- They start talking about government and anarchy. Niki says her underground city isn’t a government, while Jack disagrees with anarchy. 

- Niki says she’s started baking again. She says she’ll give it time to think about it, whether to help Jack. In the meantime, he’s free to stay in the city.

- Jack returns to his hotel, still upset.

- He makes his way to the prison, thinking. Tommy coming back took away the satisfaction of him being Jack’s villain. Jack came back because he had one goal, one purpose, and that was to kill Tommy. Why not take the same from him?

- He tries to enter the prison portal but it doesn’t work. Jack is infuriated and walks to Tommy’s summer home, where he encounters Quackity.

- Quackity wants him to leave the property. He hid some things there a while back that he doesn’t want people finding. 

- They talk about Tommy being alive again. Quackity is happy, but wants to know what Jack’s plan is regarding their business.

Quackity: “Tommy is a complex business partner, and I have to come to terms with that fact.”

- Quackity points out it seems that Jack lack’s power over this hotel business venture. Jack tells him Tommy said he could have it for now. Quackity says he’s made great progress on his business, and they’ll continue to talk later. He leaves.

- Foolish says he looks poor and hands him two diamond blocks.

- Jack says he needs funds anyway and has an idea...what if he became a prison guard?

- He wonders how to go about it. Who would suggest him?

- Jack looks at the ruins of Ze Haus. He’ll stick to the motto:

Be Worse.

- Ranboo starts off in his house, his Memory Book open

“He’s alive!”

“He’s alive?”

- Ranboo thinks to himself. It’s incredible, but…was he even dead to begin with? Did Sam lie? It doesn’t make sense. Once something is dead, it’s dead, right?

- Tubbo’s not handling it well, but he’ll come around eventually. But Tommy’s alive now, that’s awesome! That’s a good thing…right?

- Ranboo isn’t upset at him for burning the flower. If someone died and came back and everyone still thought they were dead, of course they’d be hesitant to things.

- He goes back to the confusion about death. People can be revived.

“And if death isn’t permanent, then people are gonna be living a lot differently.”

“If death isn’t permanent…if death isn’t permanent, then nothing is. Then that means that…anyone can just die, decide ‘no,’ and just come back. And…if…people live with no fear, then they’ll be put through so much pain.”

- Tubbo was so ready to fight the Egg despite being on one life. Imagine if he found out that he could die and come back if he got hurt.

- Ranboo heads through the Nether to the portal to…Dream’s mountain vault

“What is this place?”

“I’ve been here before?”

“Why am I here?”

“…Step away from him, Dream.”

“Everything everyone’s ever loved is right here. If I can control that, I can control the server.”

“Dream was…he was trapped in here when we all came through. Wait, I’m — you can’t kill him because he’s the only one who can bring Wilbur back…what? Dream could…Dream could bring people back?”

“Was I here?”

He moves towards the elevator. “I walked over there.”

“The Enderwalk. That entire time. And they all came to save him…that entire time.”

“You should’ve paid him more.”

“The only reason they kept Dream alive was because he could revive…people. Dream has the power…to…bring people back. No matter…when…who…where…”

“He needs to go, or else…death won’t be permanent, and then, if we get rid of someone because they’ve been causing problems this entire time…then we can never get rid of the villains in this story. We can bring back the villains in the story, when they were supposed to be written out.”

“He needs to go.”

- Ranboo leaves. 

“We should be able to get rid of the villains, even if it means not being able to keep the good guys.”

- There’s a reason he was able to pick up blocks slowly throughout time. Things start to manifest. There’s something going on with the Enderwalk. The Enderwalk isn’t a different version of Ranboo, it’s still Ranboo, it’s just more…wild

- Ranboo heads to Snowchester and sees Michael.

“Cause I don’t wanna hurt him…so I gotta make sure I get rid of any possibility.”

- Ranboo is scared of doing something that makes things worse.

“I don’t hurt people. That’s not what I do, I have to keep it that way. However…”

He looks towards the prison. 

“There is one exception.”

“Do I even have to be careful? I mean, I still have my three lives. I mean…I’m one of the most safe people on this server. But…I don’t even have to be. I can afford to be reckless.”

- Ranboo writes in his book.

“He’s alive. But hopefully soon Dream won’t be.”

- Ranboo goes into his house. He surveys his riches in the vault. He has a lot of supplies, but he’s not ready to do this yet.

“It’s time to train.”

- Puffy finds Tommy’s book in her Therapuffy office and reads it. Does this mean he’s alive?

- Puffy watches the VOD and decides she would lose all her canon lives just to escape the possibility of solitaire.

- Puffy is happy that Tommy is alive. But how, and why? Why would Dream resurrect Tommy?

She wonders if there was a tiny part of Dream that cared, or if that’s just the duckling perspective talking.

- She goes back to her office and writes a response letter, going to leave it in a chest at Tommy’s house.

What Tommy needs right now, she says, is support.

[wistfulcynic]

till we be dead ourselves

I saw a thing today that made me a bit cross and reminded me of how unsatisfying I've always found the Brothers Jones reunion in the underworld. This is the result. It's not anti-Liam but it does change him quite a lot from canon, so if that's not your jam you may want to skip this one.

Basically, this is the Brothers Jones I would have liked to see.

Also, at least part of the inspiration came from chatting with @thesschesthair and @winterbythesea about alternative POVs on our OTP. So here, guys, have a Liam. Beware, there are feels. 

SUMMARY: Liam Jones has been waiting for his brother for three hundred years. When he finally arrives, he's not as Liam remembers. Some not-typical or particularly respectful of canon Brothers-Jones-in-the-underworld feels, plus a dash of Captain Swan.

words: 2025 rating: T tags: not canon compliant, underworld AU, brothers jones. Major characters are already dead. 

on AO3

-

till we be dead ourselves: 

He’s been waiting a long time for this. Three hundred years. 

Well, two hundred ninety-three years and eighty-six days, to be precise. He knows because he looked it up. He had to. It’s not easy keeping track of time here; some seconds tick so slowly they’re torture while years can pass in the blink of an eye. 

Years, such as they are. There aren’t really years in this place, or truly ‘time’ at all. There’s not really anything. This is nothingness, a void, a repository for whatever souls are made of, and different to each one. They’re trapped here, these souls, until they finish whatever business still remains for them, and over the centuries he’s seen so many come and go—some sorrowfully confused by what they need to do, others firmly certain. 

As for Liam Jones, he’s always known why he’s here. His unfinished business is Killian. 

On the day Killian arrives Liam can barely contain his excitement. Not just because he may finally be free of this place but because he longs to see his little brother again. He’s missed Killian, and also he’s keen to know what the devil took him so long. How is it possible that his brother’s life stretched on for over three hundred years? 

He walks quickly through the town—an odd little town, unlike any he encountered while alive. His afterlife has manifested it for only a few years. Before that it was ships and ports and then it was jungle. Ships and jungle, jungle and ships for so very, very long. He’s come to realise that his afterlife reflects what his brother does Above, though what precisely that consisted of he is not privileged to know. He’s hoping Killian will tell him. 

He knocks on the door of a large, blue house and waits, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. When it opens he turns with a smile that freezes on his face. 

The man framed in the doorway is his brother, unmistakably him, yet Liam finds he’s not prepared for how much Killian has changed. He feels foolish for being taken so by surprise; of course Killian is not what he remembers. He’s not still the eager young lieutenant he was when Liam died, obviously not. He couldn’t be. 

But the man before him is… hard. Jaw set and eyes cold, with an aura of both danger and command. A man not to be trifled with. His face is still youngish—mid-thirties, perhaps—but his eyes are ancient. Tired and bitter and heavy with the weight of ages, and abruptly Liam feels very, very young. 

“K-killian?” he ventures. 

Killian’s brow wrinkles in confusion that lasts an uncomfortable beat or two, and then it clears. His eyes widen. “Liam,” he breathes. “Is it really you?” 

“It’s me, brother.” Liam attempts a smile again. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

Killian pulls him into a hug which he returns warmly, though the sound of curse words on his brother’s lips has stunned him. He smells of leather, and of the sea. And rum. Liam blinks through a fresh wave of astonishment. Killian has been drinking. Drinking rum. 

Killian pulls back from the hug but keeps his hand on Liam’s shoulder. His eyes are crinkled by a smile that Liam can’t help noticing barely touches the depth of sadness in them. “It’s good to see you, brother,” he says. 

“You’ve changed,” Liam blurts, then curses his impulsive tongue when the smile fades from his brother’s face. 

“Aye,” Killian says. “It’s been some time.” 

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Liam agrees. “How? How was it that long?” 

“Perhaps you’d better come in, Liam,” Killian says. He steps back and holds the door. “We’ve rather a lot to discuss.” 

-

Liam spends that first night in his brother’s house. Killian seems at a bit of a loss for what to do with himself in all the space and curiously reluctant to speak of why his afterlife has manifested such a dwelling just for him. Of course the dead don’t truly sleep, but Liam passes the night deep in thought, still in shock over what he’s learned about life his brother led. 

Killian is Captain Hook. A pirate. A man whose name Liam has heard in hushed whispers on the lips of many a soul who’s passed through this place. None of those whispers spoke of anything good. 

He cannot reconcile his little brother, even three hundred years of bitter loss and violent struggle later, as the cruel and vengeful villain of those tales. He cannot. It’s simply not possible. 

“Much of what they recounted was likely exaggerated,” Killian said wryly, “or hearsay. But I’ve done much I’m not proud of, Liam. I killed men without a second thought. I plundered lands across the realms. I have not led a good life.” 

“Then why are you here?” Liam demanded. “If you were as bad as all that, you wouldn’t end up in limbo.” 

“Perhaps I may have done enough in the past few years to warrant a chance at redemption,” Killian reflected. “I suppose we’ll see.” 

“And do you know what your unfinished business is?” 

Killian swallowed visibly, then nodded. “I believe I do.” 

-

Over the next week Liam keeps an eye on his brother. It’s not that he’s concerned—well, yes, it is that he’s concerned. There’s a restless energy to Killian that makes Liam uneasy, worried that he might do something rash. So he watches, from a distance, as Killian sets about finishing his business. He watches his brother seek out many of the men who bore the tales about him, those who still remain at least. He sees the fear in those men’s faces, and the anger. Sometimes he hears their voices, raised and vicious. It pains him to witness these things—not least the shame on Killian’s face—but he forces himself not to interfere. 

His brother is not a man to be trifled with. 

One day he observes Killian deep in conversation with a woman, dark-haired and statuesque. They stand close together in the manner of those who’ve shared a deep intimacy, and even from a distance he can see that they are crying. Killian pulls the woman into his arms where she weeps into his shoulder, and before they part he presses his lips to hers. 

It’s farewell. 

With every interaction Killian’s burden lessens, though he remains weighed down by things Liam can barely fathom. Each night they meet at the blue house, where they sit together and talk. They have three hundred years of catching up to do. As they talk Killian drinks, and Liam has begun to as well. He senses his brother could use company in more than conversation, and it’s not like alcohol can harm the dead. It doesn’t do them much good either, but the phantom rum seems to soothe Killian, and loosen his tongue. 

Though not enough, Liam comes to realise, for Killian to speak of why he’s really here. 

-

Her arrival sparks an uproar such as Liam has never experienced, even in all the time he’s passed in this place. She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here. It’s not possible. 

Yet here she is. 

Word of it spreads like wildfire; Liam is polishing glasses at the bar where he inexplicably works when it reaches his ears. 

“They say she’s alive,” says one of the regulars, in hushed tones. “Alive, and here.” 

“That’s impossible,” Liam scoffs. “None of the living can come here. And even if they could why would they want to?” 

“She’s here to rescue someone,” the regular replies. “Her true love. That makes it possible, or so they say.” 

“And the man died in sacrifice,” another adds. “Huge sacrifice, before his time.” 

Before his time, Liam thinks. That should rule Killian out. Yet he can’t shake this feeling, this creeping suspicion born of Killian’s refusal to discuss how he died, or how he lived these past few years. There’s a reason this town is his afterlife, and Liam’s too. There’s a reason he’s alone in that big house. 

He sets the glass down, and the rag. “I have to go,” he says. 

-

It couldn’t be more obvious that the woman doesn’t belong. She’s visibly, ostentatiously alive, so full of life she glows. It draws the souls—ghoulishly, Liam thinks—but none dare approach too closely. The woman looks as though if anyone could kill a soul that’s already dead, it’s her. 

She heads down Main Street and Liam follows. Past the diner and the library, around the corner and up the street where Killian lives. A tight knot forms in Liam’s chest as she walks up to the blue house then stops, with her hand on the gate. 

The door flies open and Killian appears on the porch. He stares at the woman, who offers him a smile that strikes Liam as far too tremulous for her take-no-prisoners demeanour. 

“Swan,” Killian chokes. His voice sounds broken. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to save you,” the woman replies. She opens the gate and takes a few steps forward. Killian stumbles off the porch to close the distance between them. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says. “You shouldn’t be here, not here. Not you.” 

“I had to, Killian!” She looks up at him imploringly. “You shouldn’t have died like that. You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.” 

She takes his hand and laces their fingers tighter. Killian’s breath catches. “Come back with me, Killian. Come home.” 

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“You can. I know a way.” Her voice drops as she steps closer, but Liam can still hear her words. “Don’t try to make me live the rest of my life without you, Killian Jones,” she says. “I won’t do it.” 

“Swan—” 

“I won’t do it,” she repeats. “I love you.” 

Liam can see the moment Killian breaks. He snatches the woman into his arms, holds her tightly as she clings to him and magic twines palpably around them. This is not what he had with the brunette, Liam realises. That was love, yes, and intimacy. It was grief, deep and terrible but of a normal sort. 

This is agony. This is two souls that should never have been parted and the connection that still binds them, so powerful it can draw a living woman into the land of the dead. 

No wonder Killian couldn’t speak of her, Liam thinks, or of the circumstances of his death. The pain must have been too great. 

Liam’s been dead so long he’s forgotten how sensitive a subject it can be. 

The man died in sacrifice, he recalls. Huge sacrifice, before his time. 

He died for her. And now she’s here to bring him back. 

-

“This feels too soon,” Killian says, as he hugs Liam tight. “I only just found you again.” He pulls back and gives his brother a shrewd look. “And I sense that when I’m here again, you no longer will be.” 

“No,” Liam agrees. His business is finished now. And Killian’s not coming back, not to this place. Not if Emma Swan has anything to say about it. The next time Killian Jones dies it will be with his life’s purpose fully met. 

He’s glad they had this time, though, and not just because he needed it to move on. He’s glad he got to know his brother as a man, a flawed and troubled one, yes, but one who has goodness at his core and is finally where he needs to be. It only took three hundred years for him to get there. 

He’s also glad Killian is still shorter than he is, for all that Liam appears ten years younger than his brother now. He’s glad because he can still wrap his arm around Killian’s neck and ruffle his hair. He does so now, though Killian’s indignant “Oi!” of protest twists his heart. He sounds so like his younger self, that boy Liam spent centuries waiting for and will never see again. 

“I love you, little brother,” he whispers. 

Killian swallows hard, and nods. “I love you too.” 

[jinkicake]

Sakusa Loves To Please You

Sakusa eats you out for the first time.

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

For anon!!! Sakusa is a really interesting character to me and I like writing him, he reminds me of overhaul... Only less evil and more stable hahah.... Both hotties,,, yummy! I read a few articles about what it’s like for a germaphobe when they have sex and it gave me the inspo for this.... 

SMUT // NSFW

WC- 1,233

~~~

Sakusa Kiyoomi 

With Sakusa, there needs to be a lot of trust before he even thinks about having sex with you

I feel like he probably prefers shower sex, Sakusa is going to rearrange your guts in the shower!! Yay! 

Oral sex seems like a faraway dream but it isn’t that out of reach

I think with Sakusa the main thing is he needs to know you’re clean like you shower regularly and brush your teeth well

So before you head over to his for a dick appointment, like a few hours before, you should take a shower and thoroughly clean everything. Your body, teeth, mouth, fuck all the nasty germs! It’s the polite thing to do, respect his boundaries you know…

You should probably wash your hands before you two get all nasty just to be on the safe side, good hygiene like this really goes a long way 

All that talk ^^ is just for normal sex, kissing, and fun but with oral sex…. I think that all comes down to Sakusa actually being comfortable enough to do it 

The idea of oral sex might be displeasing to him but he’ll try it just for you, to pamper you a little bit 

Since Sakusa already trusts you a lot, like he completely gave you his heart, I don’t think he will have that much of a problem with it. If you really like it he might do it more just because he wants to please you~ 

Sakusa doesn’t really know what he is doing but he will learn as he goes, making you happy makes him happy so he takes it upon himself to satisfy your needs!

“Kiyoomi,” You sigh and try not to let any moans slip past your lips. “you don’t have to do it. Really, I’m fine, if you don’t want to do it then-“

Sakusa snaps his eyes up to yours and you nearly flinch under the heated gaze.  

“I am doing this because I want to.” He tells you firmly and stares at your pussy as he drags one of his fingers along your slit. Sakusa doesn’t know what he is doing, he can admit that much to himself, but he will continue to act like he does. He’s never done this before. 

“You promise?” You ask timidly, feeling slightly guilty. You’d never want to force your boyfriend to do something he isn’t comfortable with. In response, Sakusa sighs loudly. 

“I promise.” He confirms and glances back up at you, he holds your stare as he dips his finger into your soaking entrance. Your lips fall open as a quiet moan escapes your throat and Sakusa can’t help the way his eyes dart to your chest as you heave in a breath. He blindly thrusts his finger deeper into you, curling slightly to hear you purr. Slowly he draws back his finger and spreads your lower lips apart. He has to stop himself from grimacing. 

“Omi-“ You try to stop him once again but Sakusa dips his head and presses his lips to your cunt. Your eyes widen as you stare down at him, he drags his tongue up your slit and your hips jut into his face. Sakusa stares up at you and you pout apologetically, your hand moves to hold your own hips down. With more confidence he applies more pressure to each stroke of his tongue, you really seem to be enjoying it. 

It isn’t as terrible as he thought it was going to be, it doesn’t taste bad or feel gross. You’re clean, he reminds himself. His nose brushes against your clit as his tongue dips into your entrance and you dig your ass into the sheets while your back arches painfully. You want to beg for more, so much more but, you don’t want to push him.

As his mouth works skillfully, Sakusa keeps searching your face for your reactions. He needs to know he is doing this right. When his nose brushes against your clit, you whine impatiently and your boyfriend knows he has to check it out. Sakusa knows what and where your clit is, he always watches when you play with the little button whenever he fucks you, but he isn’t sure what exactly to do with it. 

He licks experimentally just as he did with your entrance and feels his shorts tighten when your hands grab fistfuls of his hair. Sakusa wants to glare up at you but at this moment, he can’t find it in himself to care. You’re his pure little angel, you can do whatever you want. He tries to mock the way your fingers would move as he traces your clit with his tongue, he uses the tip to run circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Your thighs tense around his head and as Sakusa stares at you, he is hit with a thought, maybe he should suck on it? At first, the idea sounds revolting but he wants to give it a try. With his tongue, he brings your clit into his mouth and gently sucks. Your reaction nearly makes his eyes fall out of his head. Your thighs squeeze his head and your fingers dig into his scalp, Sakusa wants to punish you for being so rough with him. He nips at your clit, bringing it between his teeth but you seem to like that even more. 

You’re going to cum soon, his hot mouth stimulating your clit like this makes the thought seem like a reality. You don’t want it to be over so quickly but you can’t tell Sakusa to stop.

“Kiyoomi, I’m going to cum,” You whine and Sakusa hesitates for a second before going back to pay attention to your clit. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, let you cum all over his face or pull away and finish you off with his fingers. Sakusa is already in so deep that he figures he might as well finish you off. The shower he is going to take you in is calling out his name. 

“Omi! Omi,” You cry and grind your pussy against his face, Sakusa notes how your thighs are twitching beside his head and every time he sucks harder it is like a knee-jerking reaction with your hips. “I’m cumming.”

Sakusa doesn’t let up the pressure he has on your clit, he continues to lick and suck as he works the swollen bundle of nerves. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he finds this entire interaction hot and not just the way you react for him. When you come down from your high and his tongue is too much for your sensitive, abused, clit to handle you pull him off of you. 

You smile fondly down at Sakusa and he rises up from between your thighs to hover over you. The eye contact only lasts a few moments before he grabs your wrist and leads you to the bathroom. 

“Start the shower,” He tells you, and with wobbly legs, you do exactly as he asks. You watch as he calmly takes a swig of mouthwash and rinses his mouth out. Sakusa catches you staring and turns around to face you, his cock is hard against his stomach and you press your thighs together at the sight. 

“I’m only going to say this once.” He walks over to you and one of his hands grips your waist while the other grips your chin, his lips hover over your own. “You taste delicious.” Then his lips claim yours. 

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @littleshopoflove @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee @miyaxs @badboysdoitbetter2 @blossoms-nursery

[amazingmaeve]

The Moment I Knew ↠ Draco Malfoy

━ “I’m done. I’m done with you and everything.”

summary ━ draco malfoy had promised his long time girlfriend he would show up to her birthday party. Y/N knew she shouldn’t have believed him...

warnings ━ angst

a/n ━ made me cry writing this.

Word count ━ 1.7k

You should've been there

Should've burst through the door

With that "Baby, I'm right here" smile

And it would've felt like

A million little shining stars had just aligned

And I would've been so happy

The room where Y/N stood in her birthday dress her mother got her. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, after all she was now 20. But all Y/N could think about was how Draco wasn’t there.

Y/N imagined him coming through the door with that smile that made her heart flutter. And just him being there would’ve of made Y/N feel on top of the world.

Like he put her first. Y/N would’ve been so happy.

But in reality Y/N stood there with a sad look on her face crossing her arms across her chest. She should be happy in those moment.

Y/N really wanted Draco to show up it was her dream to finally be a priority in his life.

Christmas lights glisten

I've got my eye on the door

Just waiting for you to walk in

But the time is ticking

People ask me how I've been

As I comb back through my memory

How you said you'd be here

You said you'd be here

Y/N takes a seat with a sigh as she keeps a close eye on the door just waiting for him to show up. Hoping to show up.

The lights glisten around her should’ve made Y/N happy since they were her favorite color but nothing could cheer her up. Draco could only do that now if he shows up.

As people talk to Y/N she keeps her eyes on the door just waiting for him to show up. But something in the pit of her stomach told her that wasn’t gonna happen.

The time was getting later and later and Y/N is wondering if he even remembered if it was her birthday. As tears start to brim her eyes someone comes up to distract her.

“So Y/N how have you and Draco been,” Her aunt asks with a smile on her face.

The mention of Draco brings memories flooding back to Y/N. When he promised that he would be at the party a few days ago.

“Okay Draco are you sure you’ll remember,” Y/N asks as she rests her head on his chest drawing circles on his abs.

“Love don’t worry about I’ll be there when have I ever failed you,” Draco chuckles and kisses the top of Y/N’s head.

Y/N frowns almost every date we’ve been on she thinks to herself as Dracos arms envelope around and eventually falls asleep.

Y/N however stays awake doubting that he’ll show up. She tries to get the negative thoughts out of her head.

But they keep crawling back and Dracos forgot about a lot of things recently. Like their anniversary.

“We’ve been great,” Y/N says forcing a smile squeezing her hand around a wine glass anger and sadness coursing through her veins.

He said he would be there and Y/N hopes he will.

And it was like slow motion

Standing there in my party dress

In red lipstick

With no one to impress

And they're all laughing

As I'm looking around the room

But there was one thing missing

And that was the moment I knew

Some reality sets in and she realizes that Draco might not show up. No don’t think like that Y/N shakes her head in denial. She wants to believe that Draco will show up just for her she wants to with her whole heart.

But something in her stomach makes it feel off and she keeps trying to shake the feeling off.

Y/N stands there in a cute white dress and red lipstick across her lips as she keeps her eyes on the door waiting for Draco.

She feels like she’s dressed up to impress no one. Y/N wanted to impress Draco and wanted him to show her at least some love.

For the past 7 months Draco has been either busy or not wanting to be around Y/N unless it’s at night. Dates are lonely because he forgets.

Y/N gets that he has a job but he shouldn’t just neglect her in the midst of his work. Draco is one of her main priorities but she isn’t one of his.

People keep laughing around her joking and enjoying themselves.

Tears threaten to seek out as Y/N looks around the room to see if Draco came in but she didn’t notice him.

But there’s no sight of the Malfoy and Y/N walks around her heels clicking on the hard floor trying to seen if sneaked in and it was all a prank.

And all Y/N can find is nothing. Some doubt seeks into Y/N knowing Draco might not come breaks her heart.

And the hours pass by

Now I just wanna be alone

But your close friends always seem to know

When there's something really wrong

So they follow me down the hall

And there in the bathroom

I try not to fall apart

And the sinking feeling starts

As I say hopelessly

"He said he'd be here"

Hours pass and Y/N feels dread crawl up her chest as Draco hasn’t shown up.

With everyone talking to her wising her a happy birthday, Y/N just wants to be alone to drown her sorrows. She just wants Draco to be there is that so much to ask for.

Y/N would’ve gone to Dracos party for him. Hell she would have done anything for him.

In their 6th year in Hogwarts Y/N offered to take the place of Draco as he had an order from Voldemort. But Draco didn’t let the happen.

He said, “Y/N love I won’t let you do that. I will not let this drag you down. This is my duty and I just need to keep you safe.”

Y/N scoffs at the memory back then if something went wrong Draco would’ve been there in an instance. Even on her birthday he always showed up with a gift and flowers.

Even in their dreadful 6th year he still showed up.

Y/N runs down the halls tears staining her cheeks as Dracos friends notice her and his absence as well.

Blaise lets out an annoyed sigh leaving the girl he was talking to behind to follow Y/N to the bathroom. Blaise knocks on the door hesitantly.

“Y/N,” Blaise asks.

“What,” Y/N snaps wiping the tears away trying to keep calm.

“I know what you’re thinking and Draco will be here soon don’t over think it,” Blaise explains.

Y/N scoffs again of course he’s defending him she thinks. Even thought Y/N and Blaise were friends he would always choose Dracos side no matter.

“He said he’d be here,” Y/N sobs into her hand as mascara stains her eyes making her look like a raccoon.

Blaise internally curses Draco for not being there and opens the door to see Y/N crying with her knees pulled to her chest.

“Oh Y/N,” Blaise says out of pity and sadness. He pulls her to her feet and brings her to a hug.

“He’s a dick Y/N don’t let it get to you,” Blaise kisses the top of Y/N’s head and Y/N is lucky to have such a good friend like Blaise.

And it was like slow motion

Standing there in my party dress

In red lipstick

With no one to impress

And they're all laughing

And asking me about you

But there was one thing missing (missing, missing)

And that was the moment I knew

Blaise helps Y/N and she dries her tears away not wanting to alarm everyone. She still has faith Draco will show up just a sliver of faith.

Y/N and Blaise returned to the room were everyone was laughing and partying. Y/N lets out a smile through her pain.

At least some people are happy.

Blaise just says to forget about him but everyone is asking her about and how Draco and her are.

Y/N respond politely saying everything was fine even though she was just lying through her teeth.

What do you say, when tears are streaming down your face

In front of everyone you know?

And what do you do when the one who means the most to you

Is the one who didn't show?

As the time gets closer to midnight and her birthday will be almost over tears start falling down her cheeks on a faster rate.

People asks Y/N why she’s crying on such a happy day but Y/N can’t respond and people just leave Y/N be.

She feels pathetic crying in the corner of the room as people stare at her while others are just minding their own business.

Y/N wants to believe that her boyfriend will show up and shock her but she feels like that isn’t going to be an option in her books.

“Y/N he’ll show,” Blaise reassures her as he comforts her.

Y/N nods wanting to believe him but she can’t. She can’t when he should’ve been there ages ago.

You should've been here

And I would've been so happy

No matter what Draco has to say he should’ve been there for her no matter what.

And if he was going to be there Y/N would’ve been the happiest girl in the world.

But Y/N reminded herself life isn’t a fairytale.

And it was like slow motion

Standing there in my party dress

In red lipstick

With no one to impress

And they're all standing around me singing

"Happy birthday to you"

But there was one thing missing

And that was the moment I knew

Ooh, I knew

Ooh

It felt like slow motion as people sang happy birthday before midnight came.

Y/N blew out the candle with a fake smile on her face wanting to make the people who showed feel appreciated.

As people hug her and congratulate her Y/N thinks just one thing is missing.

And that is the love of her life.

Y/N knows she shouldn’t have to deal with this but her love for him was so strong nothing could defeat it.

When Draco talks to her next he’ll make some half assed apology and excuse and Y/N would nod and pull him into a hug.

And she would accept his while reassuring him that it was okay and that she still loved him.

But Y/N has had enough of this and even though she loves him so much, Y/N can’t handle this pain.

The pain of being left behind without a thought.

Y/N accepted his apology the first few times but after so many times it gets tiring. Waiting for him to show up for dates. Or even just for dinner.

Either way Y/N’s had enough of this.

You called me later

And said, "I'm sorry, I didn't make it"

And I said, "I'm sorry too"

And that was the moment I knew

When Y/N gets to her flat she gets ready for bed. She would usually go to Dracos mansion but tonight shes tired annoyed and frustrated.

Y/N doesn’t feel like dealing with Dracos bullshit right.

She takes off all of her make up and puts her pajamas on and once she lies her head on her pillow Y/N finally lets the tears fall.

As she sobs and curls into a ball all she thinks is why. Why couldn’t he just show up and be there for her.

In the midst of her crying someone calls the phone.

“Hello,” Y/N sniffles without even looking at who might be calling her.

“Love I just wanted to apologize for not being there. There was this work thing,” Draco apologizes and doesn’t even notice that she’s crying.

“I’m sorry too,” Y/N scoffs. “I’m sorry that I’ll always be second to you and I shouldn’t even be sorry.”

“Love-,” Draco starts to say but Y/N intercepts.

“I’m done. I’m done with you and everything,” Y/N snaps and hangs up the phone.

Y/N lets a sigh of relief feeling a weight of her chest. She finally feels good about herself.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓐𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓶: 𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹𝙺

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚄

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I breathed out an airy and desolate sigh through my nose, obviously I unconsciously did it a little too loud as the raven haired male sitting across from me looked down at the floor.

"It was all my fault.....wasn't it?"

I looked up, the glasses sitting on my nose bridge tilting slightly that I had to push them back up so I could study his features, or should I say, his expressions. His eyelids never blinked once, his eyes were trained on the pattern of the carpet underneath him, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. I looked with pity at the bandages wrapped around his wrists, some of the edges stained with fresh blood. I gulped slightly, my stomach threatening to spill out my meager lunch of an apple and avocado toast slice from earlier. I could handle hearing patients tell and retell me about how they stabbed their parents to death, cut off their significant other's genitals because they were unloyal to them, even tackled a deranged lunatic that once tried to...... seduce me to put mildly.......

But to this day, I can't help but get dizzy when I treat or deal with patients who are self harming victims, because yes, they are victims. Victims of their own self loathing, guilt, and depressive state that isn't their fault. It just pains me so much to see them resort to such drastic measures...

But I'm also not stupid and know some, if not most only do it for attention or to manipulate others, and Yunho is a case not far from it. Which is why I was the one sent to deal with him. All the other psychologists would have fallen for his sad puppy eyes, good looks, well built physique and would have released him too early into the world. Not that he's dangerous and a threat to society, but he's not emotionally nor mentally stable to go deal with daily life yet. And I'm not a softie by any means even if I'm patient and meek doctor when necessary. But I'm objective and I seek deeper into the true person hiding behind the front they put in front of me.

"Do you believe it was your fault Yunho?" Usually one would get scolded for answering a question with a question, but I prefer this method in order to get my patients to reason and draw out their own conclusions......

And makes them pour out their true answers.

I watch Yunho ponder for a moment.

"It has to be- otherwise she wouldn't have...wouldn't have-"

He bites back a choked sob, teeth tightening and gritting against themselves as he fails to contain his tears. His hands cover his face as he begins to cry uncontrollably, desperate and heartwrenching wails resonating throughout the 4 walls keeping us company. Reaching for the purple plaid box on the coffee table between us, I take out a few tissues and stand up from my seat. Lightly tapping on his shoulder, I whisper a 'here' to him. He thanks me, but since he's crying too hard no sound comes out his throat. For the next few minutes, he's blowing out his runny nose, all red just like his eyes from crying too hard. He's sniffling while trying to control his previous hyperventilating session. I want to hug him or at least give him a pat in the back. But I can't, I can only sit back and try to imagine the agony he's probably going through, try to put myself in his shoes as I dive deep into the event that got him here in the first place:

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Coming back from a trip to the store, Yunho momentarily looks around confused when he heard his baby daughter crying. Quickly putting the bags on the kitchen counter, he makes his way over to the nursery that adjoined the main bedroom. Calling out for his wife, he receives no response as he walks down the hallway. He calls once more for her but stops midway as he opens the slightly ajar door. His heart stops beating and his veins run cold as he stares into the lifeless body of his beloved wife hanging in the room, feeling as if the oxygen is being ripped out from his lungs, suffocating slowly.

As if sensing his agitation, his daughter's cries from the other room grow louder, so much that they raise concern from their next door neighbor, a kind and sweet old lady who more than once has offered her help in watching over the child or help them out in any way she could. Typing in the passcode, she makes it there just in time to stop the tall male from inflicting more harm upon himself as he holds onto his wife's body in agony. Having been left with no choice, she immediately calls for an ambulance, who arrive there shortly and take him to a nearby hospital.

He was monitored 24/7 as he had a history of attempted suicide before. The nurses and doctors didn't want another episode to happen again, not wanting to leave a barely 1 year old fatherless as well as motherless. As an investigation went, police found a journal hidden deep between the mattresses on the bed. When they poured over the first pages, they knew there was much more to the story than just a doting husband who couldn't live without his wife, hence why he was relocated to the infamous asylum......

And a specialized woman was tasked to not only unmask the truth, but hopefully help a poor broken mind be put back together again.

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Hence why I'm here now, the folder I had read over and over again still on my lap. It honestly amazed me that I'd actually get to work on a case like this, and of course I took up the challenge of digging into a mind like Yunho's, not just to help him, but to leave a precedent for any other situations like this that came after.

"A precedent?" I remember the officer asking me.

"Yes. You'd be surprised just how common these types of toxic relationships there are in an everyday basis yet no one ever looks deeper because they're too focused treating a depressed person who's trying to kill themselves and don't focus on what they really are...."

Shutting the folder, I tucked it under my arm before turning on my heel.

"A manipulative individual who'll do anything to keep someone tied to them forever."

That's how I viewed Yunho, it's how I should be viewing him. At least until I could hopefully get him to change.

"How's......is my daughter ok?"

I let out a soft hum and nod as I scribbled something down on the notepad.

"She's fine. We're having someone take care of her in the meantime, don't worry."

Yunho let out a sigh of relief, fingers fidgeting against his thighs as he mustered up the courage to say something.

"Could I.....could I please see her?"

From the sad look in my eyes he could already tell the answer was negative.

"I'm sorry Yunho....I'm afraid until we see some improvement, we can't allow you to be reunited with her just yet."

I tried to keep my voice steady as I said that, bracing myself to possibly see him breakdown once more. He had already lost his wife and now learning that his only child was forced away from him could possibly send him spiraling down into another episode.

But Yunho instead took a deep breath and seemed calm.

"I understand.....it's ok..." I knew he was saying those last two words more to himself than to me.

Lifting his face up, he suddenly shocked me by looking so bright and rather happy.

"So I guess it's best if we begin right?"

Even to this day, I don't know whether I should have been delighted to have such a compliant patient.....

Or terrified.

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"Tell me Yunho, what was your first reaction when you saw your wife?"

A subtle hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I thought she was the kindest and most caring person in the world, very pretty too. She just walked in and the room instantly lit up."

He was reminiscing about those times, I could tell. That fond look on his face was unmistakable.

"Do you believe you fell in love at first sight with her?"

His smile suddenly dissipated, eyebrows scrunching together as if recollecting memories from so long ago.

"I think.......I felt attracted to her.....but.....I don't think it was love?"

I could tell he felt conflicted with himself, but that's exactly what I wanted. I want him to question every feeling and sensation he felt at the moment so he could decide for himself if it was real or just a mere illusion he held. If he starts to second guess or question what he felt then he'd start reasoning and come to the conclusion that what he felt was wrong and mistaken. He'd see that his actions weren't justified.

"So when do you truly believe you fell in love with her?"

I stopped writing on my notepad and watched him close his eyes as he tried to pinpoint the exact time he felt whatever he thought was love.

"One night....one of our friends was feeling down in spirits. I witnessed how caring she was towards them...kindly reassuring them that they were loved, that they mattered. I vividly remember her kind eyes and loving smile as she comforted them. Then it hit me that she was that kind of person. Selfless, caring, doting, would sacrifice anything for her friends and family...... it was hard for anyone not to fall in love with her."

He turned his hand over, studying the wedding ring that he still wore to this day, the engravings of their initials being his prime interest.

"And at that moment I knew I had to have her. I couldn't let anyone else have her. I wanted her.... that love, compassion, empathy..her confidence and strong nature, I wanted-"

He stopped mid sentence and his eyes wizened in horror as he came to the realization I had foreseen long ago. He looked up at me, meeting my unwavering eyes that held no emotion at that moment.

"She had all the qualities I had always lacked in."

I took my glasses off and nodded.

"And I unconsciously wanted them for myself.... but the only way I could have them was...through her?" He seemed sickened with himself.

"Not exactly Yunho. You could have learnt to love yourself and raise your self esteem." I quickly scribbled my observation down.

"But I didn't. Instead I caged her up and slowly tore her down."

I couldn't help but let out an involuntary smile as he drew out that conclusion.

"Glad to know you've accepted that fact, even if it took several months for you to understand."

Shutting the notepad, I lifted myself up from my chair, straightening my blouse. Yunho followed suit.

"Is our session over?" He was always so polite, always escorting me out and holding the door open for me, which other doctors would have adamantly refused, too scared to come close to their patients. But not me. I let them have certain liberties at times.

"Not yet Yunho. As you've made remarkable progress, I got permission for you to see someone."

He was momentarily confused for a split second. Poor thing probably thought it was one of the nurses coming in to give him some new medication to take, which he hated with a passion. Stepping outside for a brief moment, I happily took the young baby in my arms, the little girl already used to seeing me as I always went to go see her after being with Yunho for a few hours. When I came back inside he had his back turned to me, once again staring off into nowhere. The light gurgled babbles the baby emitted caught his attention immediately. He whipped his head around so fast I thought he'd break his neck for a second. He teared up as the child began squealing in excitement as she recognized her father right away.

"Oh my-" He choked up with tears that he couldn't finish his sentence.

I calmly walked over to him, lightly bouncing the baby in my arms. Yunho hesitantly reached his hands out.

"Can I..?" He had such a hopeful glint in his eyes.

I didn't answer, I merely held his daughter out to him. As soon as she felt his embrace, she latched onto him as if he was one of the teddy bears she often slept with. Perhaps he was one.

No....he is one.

In my time of spending time with Yunho, I've come to strongly believe he is a sweet and tender individual. And judging by the way the little girl feels safe in his arms, I do believe he is capable of being truly loved.....

If he learns how to properly love not just someone else, but himself too.

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Stepping out of my car, I quickly grab the small pink bag on the passenger seat before locking it. Treading through the small patch of green grass, I ring the doorbell and wait for one of the occupants to open up for me. No surprise, I'm greeted by the same raven haired male I met nearly 3 years ago. He looks delighted to see me.

"Y/N. Hi!"

I wave at him, a small but genuine smile on my features.

"Hi Yunho. Did I come at a bad time?" I notice the apron covered in flour and leftover egg on it.

"Oh no not at all. Please come in."

Moving aside to let me pass, my nose catches the scent of baked goods filling the air. I can distinctly recognize the hints of lavender and french vanilla, an odd but surprisingly tasty combination. I spot out of the corner of my eye a little head peeking out from the kitchen, curious to know who had come to pay them a visit. Letting out a squeal, she quickly ran over to attach herself on my leg.

"Y/N!"

I chuckled and lightly run my fingers through her hair which was longer than the last time I saw it.

"Hi Jina, I see you've been baking something." We both chuckle as I scraped off some cake batter that had gotten on the tip of her button nose.

"Me and dad are making cupcakes for my friend's birthday party tomorrow." She explained.

"Wow that's a really nice gesture. I bet they'll turn out delicious."

Remembering that I was short on time and that I had one last task to carry out, I pull out the bag I had hidden behind my back and hand it to her.

"It's for you."

Her eyes began to sparkle so much they could rival all the stars in the galaxy. After thanking me like 20 thousand times, she plopped her tiny body on the couch to tear into the contents inside it. I shake my head before taking out a small paper from inside my trench coat.

"And this is for you."

Taking the slip from my fingers, Yunho opens it up and scans what it says. He seems confused for a moment, not fully understanding what it means. He looks to me once more, probably for the last time, asking for an explanation.

"It's your official release from the institution. No more drop in visits, no more eyes on you 24/7, and soon you won't have to continue with the prescribed medication, although when that happens they will send someone once in a while to check up and make sure you're ok without them."

Yunho nods but it is a rather sad and pained nod.

"So this means you won't be seeing us any longer?"

I inhale deeply and nod.

"This was a temporary thing until you got better Yunho. After all....I was only the doctor assigned to you."

It hurt me to say that as much as it probably hurt him, as much as it'd hurt Jina to know I wouldn't be coming back anymore.

"Can't we at least be friends?"

I hated seeing those puppy eyes of him practically beg me, signature trait he passed on to his daughter.

"That would be completely unprofessional of my part Yunho. I deeply cherish and treasure all the time we spent together and I'm beyond happy and satisfied that you've come so far since the start of our journey..."

I sighed deeply.

"But every journey has an end." He finished my sentence.

Extending his hand out to me, I took it and gave it a firm shake.

"I'm really going to miss you." He admitted.

"Me too. Me too."

Going over to the momentarily forgotten 4 year old, she let out an 'oof' when she suddenly found herself cooped up in my embrace.

"Take care of yourself and of your dad ok?"

I kissed the top of her head, her grinning face not registering that this might be the last time she ever saw me. Yunho walked me out the door and even escorted me all the way to my car. Always the gentleman, he held the door open for me. Before I could even get one foot inside, I felt a large hand grip my wrist. Turning to him, I was flustered when he suddenly pulled me close to him.

"Please don't leave. I need you....I..."

He looked conflicted with himself as he tried to finish his words. Taking a deep breath, he confessed:

"I love you."

My heart sank. He said the 3 words I hoped he'd never direct at me. Mainly because I was scared as he was. Don't get me wrong, Yunho is a wonderful man, and he truly deserves to be loved....

But am I certain that he has finally learned to love? Or is it because he feels he needs me?........

Only one way to find out.

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

[serendipityjxmn]

Chapter 12

TW: None

Words Count: 1.4k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 13

The air is tense that morning. Your brows furrow, thinking that you have to share the ride with Jimin now that everyone knows he’s your husband. Nearing the car, you notice there’s unfamiliar face among Jimin’s security. He usually has two with him, one is his bodyguard and the other being his bodyguard as well as his driver. You never really get the chance to know them apart from their name, considering you’ve never shared the ride with your husband.

He doesn’t say anything through the ride, his eyes glued to his tab, no doubt reading the morning news. You stare outside through the window, lost in your own thoughts.

Once you reach the company, you stand behind your husband but Jimin looks back and grabs your hand in his, startling you. It takes you a moment to process everything but not long for you to realise it’s just for show yet you can’t help having fluttered heart, walking hand in hand in public with your husband for the first time.

Reaching your desk, Irene simply watches the two of you as he speaks several things to Mina who’s at the desk as well, but haven’t yet let go of your hand.

He turns to you then and you stiffen immediately. “See you at lunch.” He says, way too soft and you feel like punching him for how he’s making you feel. His thumb and index finger cups your jaw briefly and gently before he leaves for his room.

It’s just a show, you tell yourself.

Another cons of all this travesty, is that Irene is handing you a lot of things that require you to personally see Jimin. She seems keen to let you handle him entirely.

“What do you think about this?” Jimin’s voice echoes in the whole room.

Huh? You look at him, puzzled. Is he really asking for your opinion? “I- I don’t really know all about- umm, maybe you should ask-“

“If I need a professional’s advice I would’ve asked Jinyoung. Besides, you sat through the meeting with me as well. I need your opinion.” Jimin says firmly.

You look at him hesitantly. You honestly have no idea about business world. But since this relates slightly about art, which you might know an inkling about, you answer him. “I think it’s good if you accept Wangji Co to handle the cover. They’ve been in the industry for long yet they always have fresh ideas. Apart from that, you can ensure you have a good term with Taiwan since you have their company involved.”

He remains silent for a moment, staring at you so deeply you silently pray you’re not flushing. Then he nods. “We will be meeting one of the arts director in charge. You will accompany me.” He glances at the watch. “I’ll be done in 10 minutes.”

He simply says and you take it as a sign you’re dismissed.

You take one last look in the mirror. This is your first time going out in public with your husband. Although it is work related, you’re still nerved out. You’ve never accompanied him to any event. Irene apparently never does too. Sure enough. When you google your husband, he never seems to have pictures taken with other women.

When you head downstairs, you feel your heart skips a beat when you see your husband, dressed smartly in impeccable black suit. His ash grey hair had been styled and he looks so good looking you almost want to cry.

Jimin on the other hand though, has his brows furrowed and lips pursed when he takes in your appearance.

“What on earth are you wearing?” He asks once you’re close enough.

You gulp. You’ve searched through every dress in the huge closet in the limited time Jimin gave you and this was the most modest dress you could find. You’re wearing a long dress that has a huge slit in front from your thigh to bottom. Luckily, the slit is not high enough to reveal scars you have on your upper thigh. To make it worse, the dress has such huge cleavage opening space, you’ve tried bringing your long hair to front in an attempt to cover your cleavage as much as you can. “I- I’m only wearing what’s in the closet.”

He tongues his cheek and you swear he looks so hot. “I’ll speak with Mrs. Lee about your wardrobe,” is all he says before you’re ushered into his car.

Even by looking at his side profile, Jimin looks so stunning you can’t help but stare in awe.

“Take a picture, I think that’ll last longer.” He snaps and you look away immediately. How does he even know without even looking at you, you shake your head.

It’s a launching event as well as exhibition by the director Jimin’s supposed to meet, Mr. Choi.

He speaks with several people and you just obediently follow after him, taking notes of who they are. A while later, you feel the urge to pee but you decided to wait until the main launching event is done before excusing yourself to the washroom.

As soon as you’re done, your eyes seek your husband immediately between the rows of art and crowds of people. As you make your way through the hallway, you find yourself drawn to an art hung on the wall, illuminated with a warm light above it, further enunciating its creativity.

It’s a woman, alone and she’s sitting down hugging her knees.

Something tugs your heart and the more you stare at the painting, the more you feel your eyes are watery.

“It’s called the Isle of Sorrow.” A voice beside you says, making you jump. You turn to see Jimin, his eyes towards the painting in front the both of you.

“They say she lost her will to love again that’s why she’s wallowing in sorrow.”

“It could also be she’s unable to love the person she desires.” You hesitate but continue to say when Jimin remains silent. “The painter.. I think he’s potraying contradiction. She’s in sadness and the background should’ve highlighted that as well, maybe monochrome settings? Yet the brushes are bold and the colors the painter chose are strong. Her love.. is strong. But she can’t give it to the other person. Perhaps because she loves someone who she shouldn’t, like an irony the life is.” You finish. Seconds later, your eyes widen and you bit your lip. What on earth did you just say?

A heavy silence sets between the two of you in the midst of casual conversations and regular laughter heard in the hall.

“Didn’t know you’re into art.” He says after several moments.

You only smile sadly. You don’t know a lot of things about me.

“I think art’s fascinating. I like when I can have control on it. What it can become. How it turns out. I don’t have a lot of it, growing up.” You say softly.

Jimin looks at you. “A lot of what?”

Your eyes find him too and you both lock gazes briefly. “Chance to change things.”

He holds your gaze steady before you look down first. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to hold his gaze for a long time, it’s hard enough to breathe as it is with him around.

“Me too.” He says quietly and you slowly look at him again. You notice his eyes has sorrow in it too, like the ones reflected in the painting before you. “I’ve always had to live the path set for me. Kinda funny, cause I’ve never been close to my parents but they expect me to receive everything blindly. There’s always pressure on my shoulder and I can never let myself fail,” he laughs as if mocking himself. “The moment I show my weakness, everyone flocks around me to take what I have. And anyone close to me can easily turn away from me.”

You stare at him as his expression hardens. You have to say something to comfort him. “Jimin.. I.. I would never.. do that.. to you.”

He looks at you then. Eyes pierced into yours. “You will. Once you know the reason behind this marriage. You’ll hate me too.”

You don’t know what to say to that but the coldness behind his words make shivers run down your spine making you shudder.

Jimin draws his breath before he shrugs his coat out of him. He then pulls you towards him, making you gasp. “It’s okay, you don’t have to-“ you start when he put his coat around your bare shoulder.

“Just stay still.” He says.

His hands are in front of you, fixing his coat snd dangerously close to your breast. You look up and there’s no mistaking his eyes that roam over your curves so you awkwardly struggle to look anywhere else.

He’s your own husband for god’s sake.. why do you have to feel so shy?

A/N: So I actually ended up posting this chapter as scheduled 😂 there’s a sudden surge of things to be done this weekend and it was pretty hectic 🥺 I’m sorry guys I’m a mere human I hope you guys aren’t mad 🥺

Oh and i’m not really the most knowledgeable about art, but art is subjective and it all depends on how one intepret so yeah 😂

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this chapter I thought it ended in a pretty cute way hehehehe

Link to Chapter 13 Posted on 210426 9:00PM