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endless-summer-soldier · 5 months

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dr. feelgood - chapter twelve

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, PTSD, choking, angst

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ask and you shall receive! I started doing my final proofing and got tired and decided to post so apologies for any typos, I'll fix them later lol. please enjoy this one and thanks for your patience!

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It took exactly three seconds for Bucky to come to his senses. The gentle click of the door shutting brought him back to reality and he realized he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t pretend like his heart didn't skip a beat every time she came into the room. That every time she smiled at him, he completely lost his focus. She was all he thought about, day in and day out, even when he was avoiding her. He wanted a future with her. In fact, she was the first woman he'd ever met that he could see a future with. And he had messed it all up.

What hit him suddenly, as she walked out of the house, was that if he let her go, he was just bringing on more trauma. He would never emotionally recover from losing her. He would be stuck with his PTSD night terrors and would always live life wondering what if things were different. One of the lessons he learned in combat is that life is short and precious, and it shouldn’t be wasted.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled to himself. He flew out the front door, hoping he could still catch her before she took off. It was a monsoon outside, with water pouring down in buckets. He caught the headlights of her car flooding the driveway and he darted toward the vehicle without another thought. He didn’t waste time putting shoes on, running outside in just socks. While wet socks were one of his pet peeves in life, at this moment he didn’t care.

He knocked feverishly on her window before she could put the car in reverse. She was initially startled before she rolled down the window.

“What are you-” before she could finish her question, his hand was around her jaw and his lips were caressing hers. This was the last thing she expected, but she didn’t stop him, wondering if this was the last time she’d feel his lips on hers. He was dripping cold rainwater all over her and the seat of her car but she didn’t even care. She leaned into him, savoring the taste of his gin-coated lips.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, stealing the breath from her lips. “I’m not giving up on us,” was all he said.

That gave her the confidence she needed. This time she took the lead, placing both hands around his jaw and pulling him closer to her, smiling in between every delicate kiss.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispered in between kisses and she reacted by holding him tighter and running her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us. I just wanted to protect you.”

She pulled away and nuzzled into his neck, “I know, I know Buck. It’s okay.” Their blissful moment was interrupted by the cheerful barking of a golden retriever. Bucky turned around to find Liberty running around in circles in the pouring down rain, sloshing through the mud.

“Well shit,” he chuckled.

“You leave the front door open?”

“Apparently,” he turned back to Y/N and gave her one more quick peck on the lips. “I better wrangle her up, Will you stay? I’ll meet you inside and we can talk?”

She nodded and laughed while he ran off after Liberty, sliding shoeless in the mud as he attempted to usher the dog back inside. Y/N was already half soaked from Bucky’s drippage so she easily made the decision to cut the engine and run inside. She captured Liberty’s attention as she ran to the front door and the dog darted after her. Once Liberty had followed her inside, she knelt down to give the dog some attention and to keep her inside. Bucky ran inside and shut the front door behind him, sliding ever so slightly on the hardwood floor. Y/N smiled up at him as she stood up and he returned her grin. As if on cue, Liberty shook off the moisture from her fur, completely coating Y/N and Bucky in more rain water and mud. They both started cracking up, laughing at both their disheveled states as the dog simply walked off to her dog bed.

Bucky stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her hips.

“You know, this look is kind of working for me…” he said, narrowing the space between them.

“Oh yeah? You into the swamp monster look?” she bantered.

“More like queen of the swamp,” he said, inching closer to envelope her lips in his. Her arms effortlessly wrapped around his neck and he pulled her in even closer, so her body was flush against his. They were cold and wet and muddy, yet there was no place they’d rather be. Bucky couldn’t believe he almost let this amazing woman slip beneath his fingers. He was savoring everything about her now: her smell, her taste, her touch. But what surprised him the most was how at ease he finally felt. The past few weeks, he’d been so tense. He was worried about Y/N, he wasn’t sleeping, barely eating, and just getting by an hour at a time. Now it was like he could finally breathe again. He didn’t realize what he was missing until he had her back. And now he never wanted to let go.

She started to pull back for a breath, but he wouldn’t let her, verbally expressing his dismay with a hummed “uh-uh.” She smiled and he kept her close, kissing her again and then moving from her lips to her cheek to her neck.

“Bucky,” she giggled. He loved hearing that sound and it just encouraged him more. “We should wash the dog before she spreads more mud around the house.”

“I don’t care about that,” he replied.

“But it’s Steve’ house and-”

“I will deal with Steve’s house later. Right now, I’m not letting go of you.” He moved in close again, seeking the soft touch of her lips. And she had no working defense mechanisms. She sighed into his mouth, loving the feeling of being back together with the man she’d been longing for over the past few weeks. But the logical side of her won over in the end.

She pulled away and Bucky shifted his attention to her jaw, planting kisses up toward her ear.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal…” she offered.

“Mhm,” he replied, opting not to part from her skin.

“If we take a pause to wash up the dog, then we can pick this up later. In the shower.” Bucky froze considering his options. They’d never shared a shower together and it was something he’d always wanted to do but they’d never had the opportunity.

He let out a deep sigh into her neck, “You’re killing me doll.” She gently scratched the back of his neck and kissed his ear, signaling that their make out session was over for the time being. Bucky walked over toward Liberty and effortlessly picked her up in his strong arms. As he walked toward the bathroom he called out, “You better be helping me with this!” Y/N smiled to herself and eagerly ran after him.

It took all four hands to wrestle Liberty into the tub and that was only the first step. It was fortunate that Bucky and I were already soaking wet from the rain because Liberty showered us in bathwater as she splashed around in the tub. It took us a minute to find a rhythm, with one of us rinsing while the other shampooed. After about thirty minutes, I pulled the drain plug and we pried Liberty out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel. Once she was mostly dried off, we gave her a bone which she happily curled up with in her dog bed.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a quick moment to catch my breath, which didn’t last very long. Bucky approached with a smirk on his face and, without a word, swept me up into his arms.

“Bucky!” I called in surprise.

“Pretty girl,” he countered, awfully pleased with himself.

“What are you doing?” I protested, as he started ascending the staircase.

“We’re getting you cleaned up.” Bucky strode into what I assumed was Steve’s bedroom, and before I could argue, he opened the door to the master bathroom and I was speechless. It was spacious to the point where it could’ve passed for a health spa. There was a giant soaking tub next to a window, with tealight candles lined up on the windowsill. Accompanying the tub was an upholstered ottoman holding a tray of bath salts, luxury oils, scrubbing brushes, and any other things you might need during a soak. In the corner was a beautifully tiled walk-in shower, complete with a rain shower head and a built in ledge that could double as a bench. Along the wall was a long countertop, with two sinks placed in front of the giant framed mirror. Before I could take in anymore, Bucky sat me on the countertop next to the sink, like I was a child and he was tending to a scrape on my knee. He walked over to the closet and pulled out two, lush looking, sage green bath towels, and hung them on the silver towel rack that was placed by the entrance of the shower.

“This is…” I said, looking around the room with wonder.

“I know. Steve takes his self care very seriously,” Bucky joked. He turned the handle in the shower and the water started flowing through onto the beautifully laid tiles, mimicking the sound of the rainforest.

Bucky made his way back over to me and I wondered what his next move would be. I was happy to sit back and enjoy the ride of whatever he had in mind. His face hovered in front of mine, as he placed his hands on the counter, his thumbs so nearly grazing my thighs. I studied his face, waiting for him to lean in and kiss me again, so that we could pick up where we left off. Instead, he planted a chaste kiss on my cheek and exited my personal space. His right hand found its way to my thigh and he slowly slid it all the way down my leg, until he was gripping my ankle. He extended my leg and brought my foot up towards his mouth, using his teeth to nip the top of my sock and carefully pull it off my foot. He planted a sweet kiss on my big toe and then repeated the process with my other foot.

Then he moved to my hands, removing the rings and bracelets I had on and placing them carefully in a small bowl on the counter. His slow, calculated movements were turning me on more than I thought they would. As much as I needed to have him, I wasn’t going to rush through this. He removed my earrings, giving one of my earlobes a playful nip, before he pulled off my blouse, planting kisses from my collarbone down to my navel. He came back up to my eye level, but his fingers were already working on the button of my jeans.

“I might need your help with this one,” he said, as he pulled down my zipper. I leaned back onto the counter and lifted my hips, allowing Bucky to pull at the waistband and slide the jeans off my legs. I sat back upright while Bucky kissed his way up my legs, taking a little extra time when he reached my inner thighs. I could see the hunger in his eyes and I knew that this teasing must be killing him, but it would all be worth it. His mouth found my bra strap and took it in his teeth as he lifted up slowly and released it so it snapped back onto my skin. His hands worked their way up my love handles and met at the clasp of my bra.

“Ah ah ah…” I chided, shaking my head before he could continue. He gave me a confused look and I merely pulled at the hem of his shirt, “You are fairly overdressed.” He let me pull the shirt up and over his head and I tossed it across the room. He leaned back in, continuing where I stopped him but I simply shook my head again. I pulled the drawstring of his sweatpants loose and tucked my fingers into the waistband and he effortlessly wiggled out of the material, leaving him stripped down to my level, clad only in his boxer briefs.

“Happy now?” he asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Almost,” I smiled mischievously. He slowly closed his eyes and sent me a toothless smile, knowing what I was getting at. When he opened his eyes back up they locked onto mine like a wolf stalking its prey. It sent a chill down my spine and all I wanted was to feel his hands on me again. He placed two thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and easily pulled them down, stepping out of them and closer towards me.

“You have some catching up to do,” he growled. I smiled as he kissed me, this time with urgency. His hands were behind my back unclasping my bra with ease and it fell to the floor. He started kissing my neck as his hands ventured south and rested on my hips. It didn’t take him long to pull at my thong, and I raised my right hip up to aid him, and he happily accepted the help.

I felt a bit of a breeze and shivered briefly, as my nipples hardened slightly due to the cool air and Bucky’s fingertips. He noticed my momentary shudder and grinned into the kiss.

“Why don’t I warm you up a little,” he suggested, sweetly kissing my jaw before shifting his attention to my pert nipples. He took each one carefully into his mouth, giving them just enough attention and then continued on his journey, eventually kneeling on the ground. I hadn’t realized that’s what he meant, but I wasn’t going to complain. He gently pulled on my legs as a signal for me to come closer which I did. He ran his tongue up my sopping wet pussy to my clit and ran circles around the sensitive bud. My head fell back instinctively, missing the feel of his touch. He dove right into my folds, exploring with his tongue and forcing labored breaths out of me.

“Bucky…” I called, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to pull him back towards me. He took that as encouragement and increased his efforts, shooting his eyes up to watch my reaction. I let out a soft moan and pulled on his hair harder, which he seemed to enjoy.

“Bucky, stop,” I softly commanded. He immediately stopped and pulled back, looking up to see if everything was okay. “I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside of me.”

He acted quickly, standing and collecting me off the counter with ease, and carrying me into the immaculate shower. The minute we stepped under the water, his lips were back on mine and I tightened my grip on his neck, pulling him as close to me as possible. My legs were wrapped around his torso and his strong hands were cradling my lower back.

“God, I missed you so much,” he whispered into my neck.

“Show me,” I challenged, feeling bolder. Bucky reacted immediately, pressing me into the cold tiles of the shower. I let out an exhale and he took that as encouragement. He expertly shifted my position so that he had a better angle to my entrance, all while keeping me secure. And then he thrusted into me and I almost came on the spot. A moan escaped my lips and Bucky picked up his pace, grunting into my neck.

“Fuck baby,” I let out, knowing I wouldn’t last much longer.

“This one might be quick, but I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t care, you feel so good inside of me.” He gave me a quick love bite on my shoulder and then gently returned me to the ground.

“Turn around,” he commanded, caressing my hips with his fingertips. I placed my hands on the shower tiles and bent forward as he pulled my hips toward him.

“You know me too well,” I smiled.

“Of course I know how my girl likes it.” He didn’t give me a warning when he entered me and I let out a squeal of pleasure. He gave my ass a smack before clutching my hips tighter and increasing his rhythm.

“You’re so wet for me, pretty girl. I’ve missed your tight little cunt.” He thrust in deeply and paused, wrapping his hand around my front to play with my clit.

“Ohhhhh…” He was pushing my every button and I was nearing my climax.

“Those noises are driving me wild…” He picked up his pace again and I let out another moan. “Now be a good girl and cum for me.” That was all it took to trigger my orgasm. My back arched and I leaned further into the tile to stabilize myself while Bucky’s hands kept his strong hold on me. It all seemed to happen so quickly, as I panted and tried to bring myself back down to earth.

“Wow…” I breathed through my satisfied smile.

“I second that.” He slowly retracted and took my hand. “C’mere.” He pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around my waist. I locked my arms around his neck and smiled up at him as he planted a few sweet kisses on my lips.

“That was amazing,” he said, connecting his forehead to mine.

“I know, we’re pretty good at that.”

“And we keep getting better.”

“You think it’s because we’re in love now?” I suggested.

“It has to be that,” he said, kissing my nose. “Also, I didn’t pull out. I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill so we should be fine.”

“I won’t do that without checking with you ever again.”

I placed a hand on his cheek and said, “I said it’s fine.”

“I know, but I still should’ve asked your permission.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Now can we get clean and spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

“We can do whatever you would like my dear.”

Once we finished up in the shower and dried off, Bucky lent me the T-shirt he packed and he put on a pair of sweatpants. We curled up together on the couch and turned on a rerun of Bar Rescue.

I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me and kissed my temple.

“How are you feeling, pretty girl?”

I tilted my head so that I was looking at him, “Happy.”

“That’s what I love to hear.”

“All because of you,” I smiled.

“Ah, can I bring something up at the risk of ruining the moment.”

“I don’t think anything could ruin this night for me. Unless you break up with me.”

“Well I’m never doing that. But I do think we should talk about that night.”

“Oh. Okay,” I shifted so that I was facing him, giving him my undivided attention. He collected my hands and held them tight in his.

“I know you said you pulled me out of the nightmare, but I don’t want to put you in that position again. It might not work next time. So I’m going to start up therapy again. It did help me a lot before and I only stopped going when I thought I had things under control. But I think it might be more of a lifelong thing.”

I nodded, “I think that’ll be really good for you.”

“It’s really hard for me to ask for help, but I do think it’ll make things better.”

“And I’m happy to go slow as we figure everything out. I want to make sure you feel comfortable with things.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to go slow. I’ve finally got you where I want you. But I can’t let that happen again.”

“We’ll ease back in. No sleepovers for a few weeks.”

“Well I’m not agreeing to that,” he smirked.

“What!?”

“I want to fall asleep next to you every night.”

“Yeah but-” I started to protest.

“I think we can start with staying at your house. It’s not my space and I don’t think I sleep as deeply because it's a different environment than I’m used to. Plus I’ve stayed over your place a handful of times and never had any issues.”

“Are you sure?’

“Positive,” he stated.

“Okay, we can start there and see how it goes.”

“I still want to have a back-up plan for you though. Maybe stash an air horn or something by the bed just in case. I’ll come up with something.”

I chuckled lightly, “I don’t think an air horn is going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to know what I did the first time?”

“I am curious actually.”

“First, I placed my hand on your cheek,” I announced as I demonstrated. “Then I slowly pulled you in closer,” He moved with my hand until his forehead was pressed against mine. “And then I did this,” I gently brushed my lips against his and he sat there stunned.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he commented with a small smile on his face.

“I thought if I fought back you would only push harder but that affection might confuse you.”

“And it worked.”

“It didn’t really confuse you, though. It sort of…calmed you. You curled into me and fell back asleep.”

Bucky looked a little stunned as he considered this, “Smart. That was very quick thinking.”

“That’s why I’m in trauma.”

“I’ll give you that. But I still want some sort of back up plan in place.”

“Well I will let you think on that and come up with a plan because you probably know better than I do on this matter.”

“I can do that. So until we have a back up plan, no more sleepovers.”

“That’s fair.”

“Tonight I’ll let you sleep in Steve’s room with Liberty and I’ll take the guest bedroom.”

She wanted to protest, badly, because she couldn’t imagine leaving his vicinity. But she chose to respect his wishes. For now, she nuzzled into Bucky’s shoulder and entangled her legs with his, enjoying every second of being in his presence.

#bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n

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glittering-moonlillie · 2 years

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Rough Sketches (Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader)

Word Count: 2662

Warnings: Very suggestive, mild language

Summary: You knew all along that it was a bad idea to bring that dreaded sketchbook to his house, so why were you surprised to find out that things, indeed, went wrong.

The sounds of your 2B pencil hitting the smooth, white paper filled the silence of the wolf gray room. You started with a circle which, with a few more lines, easily transformed into a diamond shaped face. Next was the pointed nose along with the ears and neck, all of which were drawn with masterful precision.

The eyes were always your favorite to draw; they were a deep and lively forest shade that made you melt whenever they came into contact with your own. In this drawing specifically, his eyes were half lidded and showing only a sliver of green, his lips etched into a seductive smirk.

After a few more minutes, you were able to look down at the image of your boyfriend, Damian - shirtless, toned, and looking like he might chain you to his bed if you gave your consent. You held the notebook close to your chest and squealed, face tinted with both embarrassment and ardor.

You were an artist at heart, something that you and Damian bonded over the moment you two met. While Damian drew more realistically, focusing on actual details rather than abstracts, you preferred a more characterized style that personified a person’s personality. It lies between realism and cartoonism. People were always your favorite things to draw. There was always something satisfying about being able to perfectly capture a person with simple lines and colors.

Over the time span of knowing one another, he quickly became your muse, the person you wanted to practice drawing over and over, and as your feelings for him increased so did your desire to get every single detail of him correctly. This desire continued the day he asked you to be his beloved girlfriend.

Innocent drawings of his sharp eyes and cheshire smile morphed into something more risque, something dirtier. There were an array of pages with nothing but a shirtless Damian solely based on your secret desire for him to dominate you.

For that reason, the small art collection was hidden away under the folds of your bed, only taken out during the darkest of nights when you got lonely enough. You were too embarrassed to ever reveal them in the light of day, and you were sure you would die if Damian ever uncovered the sketchbook. If Damian ever did see how perverted you really were, he would undoubtedly break up with you. After a string of terrible breakups, you weren’t sure if you could handle another, especially with the son Bruce Wayne.

So it was a wonder why you left the sketchbook in your small night bag while you got ready to stay over at his house. It was a lapse of judgment, really, a small misstep that would certainly lead to disaster if you weren’t careful enough. And yet, there was a strong guiding force that compelled you to take it out and start doodling. After all, Damian was out on patrol and he said he would be back at 11:15 precisely. It was only 10:30 now, you had time to indulge in mindless fantasy, right?

Your eyes traveled back down to your newest sketch, your brain trying to decide on whether or not you were disgusted with yourself or if you should be pleased. The drawing itself seemed alright, the anatomy was near perfect but the actual content…well…It felt sinful, like drinking too much bubbly soda that left a deep hole in your stomach and spoiled your dinner.

As you glared down at your own creation, surgically dissecting the morality of drawing your boyfriend as often as you did (along with the few lude ones) when the window towards the front left of the room began to slide open. You could only watch like a deer in the scrutinizing gaze of a car’s headlights as Damian pulled himself through the small opening.

“Beloved, I’m home.” He said, an unusual goofy smile plastered on his face. “Dick let me come home early and so I was able to pick up some food for us.”

Any profanity that you had been taught up till now was used at this exact moment to curse anything and everything: Your luck, the cruel gods, Dick Grayson, and most of all, yourself. You should have thrown the sketchbook into the fireplace in the living room once you realized you brought it - or, even better, you should have never created it in the first place.

You shoved the indecent drawings underneath the dark green sheets. “T-that’s…wonderful…” You sighed, breath shaky. Any slight oddity in your behavior could lead to Damian’s detective skills to be triggered. “Welcome home, my love!”

You stared at him, doing your best to imitate a calm and collected smile. Damian stared back, grin slowly shifting into something more curious. He took off his mask, tossing it onto his (frustratingly) organized mahogany desk and took a few steps closer to the bed. The food was left on the desk as well, the enticing aroma wafting over and tickling your nose.

“Wh-what’s up?” You laughed half heartedly, voice trailing off as soon as the laughter escaped your throat. Did he have to tower over you like this - like a cat about to pounce on his prey?

“Nothing. I think…I think I just like the idea of coming home to you on my bed like this.” He plopped down onto the bed next to you, part of his darkened cape folding onto your legs. “That and you are acting quite peculiar.”

Lord almighty.

“O-Oh? I am?” You asked, squirming towards the sketchbook, praying to any demon that would hear you that he would not notice its presence. Your hands crawled towards the book until it covered the huge DAMIAN WAYNE, MY BELOVED label attached to the front.

Despite your pleas, it seemed that fate had something else hidden up its mischievous sleeves.

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he scanned your movements until they landed on the haphazardly partially covered book. “Ah, you were drawing. I have never seen that cover before, can I look at it?”

Every nerve in your body seemed to be doused in gasoline fluid, only for him to kindly light a match and toss it, making everything burn inside and out. The blazing sensation rose to your cheeks and clogged your throat until it burned. Damian’s eyes continued to pierce straight through your soul and you realized the longer you took to respond, the more skeptical he will become.

“Sketchbook? Right, yes, I was drawing while waiting for you to get home. Totally normal, totally fine, not something you would really be interested in.” With hasty hands, you pulled the pad close to your chest carefully so as to not expose the embarrassing label, your arms acting like a steel gate protecting glinting jewels from tempted dragons.

His lips quirked into a frown and he, with minimal effort, raised a singular eyebrow. “That’s nonsense, Habibti. I always love seeing your art.”

“I-I really don’t think you would want to see it. I mean, the sketches are really rough and it might melt your eyes off and your eyes are too pretty to be melted.” You exclaimed.

Damian’s nose scrunched and it was at this moment you realized he did not believe you in the slightest. Unaffected by your behavior though, Damian reached for the coveted drawings swiftly, forcing you to jump off the bed and backpedal to the center of the room.

“Beloved, this is nonsense. Why can’t I see your drawings?” Like a panther, Damian stalked his way towards you slowly yet purposefully.

“Because!”

“Because…?”

He stepped closer, making him an arm’s reach away. Close enough to feel the irritation building up inside him.

“Because I…” You drawed out the vowel. “I want to keep it private..?” It was a lie and you both knew it. Sharing art together was one of your guys’ main forms of quality time and you have never turned down the opportunity to do so. It was a quiet intimacy that allowed the other to see how you viewed the world and there was nothing you loved more.

There was a brief pause, echoing silence filling the room as the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. It was at that moment, the second Damian’s lips twitched into a tenuous smirk, that you realized you began a competition you already lost. “Forgive me for this, alright Beloved?”

Damian extended his arm and attempted to grab the sketchbook again, resulting in the most terrifying game of tug of war you had ever participated in. Every centimeter of leverage you gained, Damian was there to pull back another 5 inches. You did your best to pull the drawings out of your boyfriend’s grasp but there was no way you could win in a tugging match with one of Gotham’s strongest protectors.

With one harsh tug, you ended up falling on the carpeted floor of the room, hands empty. Damian’s frame towered over you, one hand trapping you under him and the other holding the sketchbook in his hands. A dangerous smile was plastered on his face.

He pulled away, resting some of his weight on your lower abdomen and rendering you immobile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but feel a certain way with Damian on top of you like this. His smirks were always rugged and somewhat sinister in tone, but now, with him on top of you, it felt like electricity shooting through your body and down between your thighs.

He scanned the front of the small binder and chuckled upon seeing the cover. “I see why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, I suppose. A sketchbook with nothing but me? Habibti, I’m flattered.”

You writhed, you pleaded, you begged - but Damian, with a small hum, began to flip through the pages. He would do anything to inflate his already bolstering confidence. With each flip, you counted down the remaining seconds you had of being his girlfriend. Seconds felt like an epoch and worse, you were powerless to do anything.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, Habibti, these are wonderf-”

Damian’s voice waned as he flipped the next page; you could feel the pressure of his body settling, juxtaposed with his slight gaping mouth, curious eyes, and red tinted ears. Another shiver danced along your spine, like a ghost's touch, as he connected his eyes with yours. The intense green pigment left you feeling dizzy yet paralyzed with need, forcing you to close your eyes lest you might fall for him deeper.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but all he could do was stare. The only comforting noise was the slight ringing in your ears from the loud silence.

“I knew you would think I was disgusting…” You muttered.

Damian shook his head, eyes crinkling from the accusation.“What? No no…it’s not that, beloved. This isn’t disgusting in the slightest.” He said. “I was just a little surprised, my love.”

With a sigh, Damian pulled your dazed form into his arms and picked you up, carrying you back to the bed and laying you down on the covers. He pressed his lips to your temple delicately. “I want to show you something.”

He inched away with a whispered laugh. Damian lowered himself to the ground and pulled out what seemed to be a hidden box of drawing supplies and papers.

“I wanted to show you this for a while, Habibti but a part of me was unsure how you would react.” He tugged out a similar looking sketchbook to yours. The cover was scuffed and darkened with age and each paper spilled out, begging for release. Damian stood back up and lightly kicked the box into place under the bed.

Damian’s hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He held the mess of papers in front of you and as he pressed loving kisses along your exposed neck, he murmured a soft “Look through it.”

You hesitantly opened the cover and the first image you see is a beautiful picture of you drawn with the loving intricacy of a photograph. Splashes of your favorite color decorated the outline of the portrait and you could discern the collar of the outfit Damian loved to see you wear. The next few pages were all similar to the first with the same picturesque quality; every portrait featured you smiling, flaws and all.

Damian’s arms wrapped around you tighter, trapping you against him. You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, thumping against your back. His fingers played with your hair, twirling it into delicate curls. The way you were positioned, Damian’s thigh was directly in between your own, and you hated the urge you had to start rubbing yourself against him.

As you flipped the next page, your vision is suddenly filled with drawings of you clothless, sprawled out and blushing. Damian had never seen you naked and yet every curve felt like looking in a silver lined mirror. Your breathing hitched.

“I think you have the most gorgeous body in the world,” He said, “I’ve always wanted to worship your body fully but I wasn’t sure if you wanted that or not…”

His finger trailed down your neck to the opening of your shirt, leaving a fiery trail of butterflies in its wake and teasingly playing with the buttons. “I didn’t realize you needed me this badly, Beloved…” He whispered in your ear.

“D-Damian…”

You shifted around, body suddenly searching - yearning - for something, but you weren’t sure what. It was an exuberant, even wanton, anticipation; a breathless pining that consumed every ounce of your being until your mind became clouded with need. Any previous inhibition you had quickly drifted away.

There was some more shuffling of papers and yet another soft chuckle emanated. “Darling, if you wanted to know how big I was, you could have just asked.”

He held up another picture from your sketchbook, one where you attempted to draw a fully nude picture of Damian that ended up being scrapped, the only remnant being the question How big even is he? 5, 6 inches maybe?

Instead of being embarrassed by this though, the comment only furthered your lack of restraint, and you had to slowly rock yourself back and forth against Damian’s thigh to assuage the increasingly empty pit deep within you. Damian’s lips pressed against your neck once more, surely leaving marks to remember in the morning.

A small whimper escaped your mouth, his hands wandering up further until they palmed your chest. You allowed yourself to move just a bit faster, only for Damian’s hands to trail back down and tightly grab your hips, forcing you to remain still.

“Damian, what the hell!” You whined.

“Patience, my love. If you want me to fuck you then you have to calm down, alright?” He turned you around so that you were now face to face and kissed you gently. “This is our first time after all, I want to do it right.”

He continued to press tortuous open-mouthed kisses down your body, unbuttoning your blouse along the way. “You are so beautiful…” He murmured against your skin.

Your back arched from the hint of pleasure feasting your body, picking away at every last bit of sanity until nothing remained. The comfortable clothes you wore suddenly felt too tight and restricting to breathe.

He pushed you onto the bed so your back was flush against the covers, his frame looming over you, and from the tent of his black pants, you could tell that your estimation of five to six inches was far off.

“Damian…I need you…” You panted. “Please”

“And you will have me, Y/n.” He assured, the loving smile he only showed you in full view. “But for right now, I just want you to stay still and be good for me, alright?”

So as some of you may seen, I don't have as much experience with writing heavy spicy stuff, so I know that this is probably really bad. But! That's okay! Because one day I am going to look back at cringe, and that will just be a sign of my improvement! Also, I wasn't sure how to end it so...uh...OPEN ENDING-

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Al Ghul #Suggestive #Damian Wayne x Y/n #DC #Comics #Romance #Fluff #Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader #Requested!

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historia-vitae-magistras · 1 year

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Part Seven: Findings

First Installment: Here.

Last Installment: Here.

Current Installment: You are here!

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson.

Red Sail Hall, 2 days Later

Gravel began the conversation. Tires crunching over the drive appeared just before his brother’s old green Renault Clio sedan turned onto the drive, headlights low but visible between the plants currently in their roost on the windowsill above the sink. Fucking hell. He poured whiskey into two mugs of tea. The vehicle would likely contain the balance of both his siblings and his children not currently missing or half passed out on the old table.

“Matthew,” He turned away from the window and pressed the steaming mug of tea into his boy’s fingers, handle first. He was slumped over the table, too stubborn to sleep in a bed despite the blanched cast his face and the ever deepening hollows of his eyesockets. He rested on his arm and half on the pile of documentation in front of him. Every sheet of paper had come from what felt like a thousand government departments, a thousand places that didn’t know Alfred existed, or at least not officially. Matching and rematching data, looking for any number, any letter or any word out of place. It was more something to keep him busy than it was useful. He had fought leaving D.C. like a shuttle to Dulles was the same as serving as pallbearer.

Matthew roused with a start.

“Wha—?” He’d been properly asleep. Arthur felt guilty, but shuffled papers out of the way and gestured to the mug.

“I need to tell you something.”

The grogginess disappeared. He pushed his glasses up and sat straight, eyes wide, sparking with hope. “What is it? Alfred?”

“Maybe.” Arthur said. It was, but he didn’t know how it could be. Not yet. “There... there was the suggestion of a slight anamoly.”

Matt stared at him, the flat look that spoke of annoyance he rarely verbalized. “Yeah. He magically disappeared out of his space suit. We knew that.”

“Beyond that.” Arthur shut his eyes. “It was reported to me your brother may have… been a part of a slight breaking of— well it may have involved certain—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Rhys didn’t knock, he never did. Privacy hadn’t been much of a concept when they were young. He had archival boxes in his arms and they exchanged a look as the other two removed coats and boots. It was awkward when they stood, hesitant. Jack at his sister’s shoulder, Zee’s brow furrowed, doing the calculus of what she would find acceptable. He offered tea, giving himself a way out. He needs the scotch anyway, his mug almost empty. The world had long been spinning with Alfred as the axis, but a glance left, beyond him to Matthew and she let decades collapse and he suddenly had both of them in arm.

He squeezes them. Jack is so tall, warm and bundled into a sweater and unusually solemn. He’s too bloody big to hold properly but Arthur tries anyway, suddenly desperate for the certainty of the physical. But Zee he could still hold, if only barely. It was awkward, how long he held on. He didn’t want to let go. Three children in his sight, two in his arms. Three. That'd been normal once. No longer. Zee hugged him harder than she normally did, usually giving one quick and then slipping away. She knew what was in that box.

When he let go of her, he took up the whiskey decanter and poured and drank two glasses before turning around again. A surgical sheet had been laid on the table, Matthew watching, bewildered as his days work was brushed aside.

“Is that a skull?” Matthew asked, but only looked mildly surprised.

“There is…” Arthur filled his mug for the tenth time in two hours and stood to turn. He jolted, seeing his second son, tall and sharp where his mother had been— His fist went down by his side. “There was some evidence—” He couldn’t quite say it.

Zee took over, laying ribs out as anatomically as was possible on a flat surface.

“He finally let them open up the back garden for a testpit hoping they’d find some old knickknacks and they found two corpses. And one’s him.” Rhys said.

Matthew went pale. Arthur drank. “Ones— what?”

“The chalkies went around back and dug up the old man’s extra meatsack from another dimension.” Jack clarified. Arthur polished off the rest of his whiskey.

“It— it’s dad?” Matthew collapsed into a chair, looking pale. “How is that possible? How the hell do you even know?”

“Well, seeing as our genetic material can’t be tested.” Zee pointed to a slice along the small jaw line. “We removed a tooth, and a bit of the ossified cartilage.” She pointed to the sternum and Arthur put the tip of his tongue at his back molar and shut his eyes, bidding his chest to stop hurting. He couldn’t quite remember losing that tooth, it was probably before Rome had pulled away.

"The radiation confirms the date to about the 9th century but more importantly.... Solar flare radiation is very distinct."

"That doesn't imply— how do you know it's—" Matthew's voice trailed off. Several pairs of eyes aimed at him.

“We ested for oxygen isotopes and radio carbon dating and had a discrepancy between the first century and the 10th I couldn't explain with marine carbon circulation. It's him."

He needed more whiskey.

"How did it die?" He bluntly stated.

“The cut went right through the ribs.” Arthur watched, but did not allow himself recoil as Zee’s hand came down at a violent angle. Her palm and fingers flattened into the approximation of a blade and landed on the table between two pieces of bone, human ribs worn smooth by time. Supposedly his ribs. He forced his hands to stay at his side.

Zee said more, arching her hand over his spine. He couldn't hear her words but he remembered that blow. It had only been a day and change since Washington DC and nearly 5 days since the void of his missing firstborn had opened up wounds that had not existed since before Alfred did annd he wasn’t sure if he had slept more than an hour since. He crossed his arms to hide the tremor. From exhaustion or horror he did not know.

When he shut his eyes, he didn’t see his daughter’s hand but the head of an axe. He would not remember that blow, the bite of steel into his body, slicing his ribs and opening his entire body. Shoulder to the other hip.

Someone cleared their throat.

He had understood just why Magnus had named his axe undvargr. Wound-wolf. Someone cleared their throat again. He snapped back to reality. It had sheered the skull. His fucking skull. It did not have a jaw and the empty eyesockets stared at him, over the landscape of bones.

“What?” He demanded. “What are you looking at? Is it me or not!”

Rhys looked at him, concerned in that hard way of theirs, the one that equally said ‘get a bloody grip’ as much as it did ‘I’m sorry you have to see this.’ Jack was staring, his hand hovering over Zee’s shoulder, as if he was… not afraid but uncertain.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Arthur’s head turned sharply. Matthew was suddenly there, from nowehere. At his sister’s elbow, opposite Rhys. He’d put himself where he always been once upon a time. Between his father and his siblings. Mortar between the bricks.

“Don’t be stupid.” His hand went to his back and he conceded to gravity, falling into a chair. “I’ve dug up the back garden at thousand times since ten-eighty-something. My corpse hasn’t been rotting under the bloody tudor rose for a thousand years. Your brother slid out of reality and whatever that is,” He pointed to the bones. “Slid into it.”

“And that brings me to my original point.” Zee cleared her throat. “The radiation signatures match a solar flare. Not 9th century."

"What does that even mean?"

"Alfred popped off out of our reality and the old man's body popped in."

#my writing || cacoethes scribendi #the dangeld axe to grind: the viking age time travel au #axe

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sunoptic · 26 days

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valleymedsblog · 3 months

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ontariobusiness · 6 months

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onboardsorasora · 1 year

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That video 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 made me want to write more tennis Dan. He is so so soft... I just. Here's some soft tennis Dan 🥺

I'll tag everything properly tomorrow

Part 1 l Part 21

Part 22

"DR, I need an answer." It was Blake, calling into the kitchen from the living room. Daniel peaked out above the open fridge door in confusion.

"To?"

"The WTA, the meet starts tomorrow."

"Oh." Daniel closed the door, his brow furrowed as he looked at his hand, it wasn't swollen anymore and the surgical scar didn't look so severe. "I thought you were joking about that."

It was the complete end of the season, the US Open had ended weeks ago with total Djoko dominance. The only thing left on the docket was a tournament held by the World Tennis Association, where they invited the top six men and women in the world to play essentially dinner theatre for a cash prize at the end.

As the world number 1, Daniel was automatically invited, but with his injury he had been ruled out and replaced.

"No, Matteo dropped out. He hurt his ankle– so they asked if you're good. I told em your doc signed off but it's up to you."

Blake watched as Daniel got that deer in headlights look and sighed. He turned back to his laptop, preparing to reply in the negative.

"Daniel, are you ok?" Max exited his sim room, eyeing Daniel's shell shocked form curiously, almost worriedly.

Carefully, Blake filled him in when it seemed like Daniel was having a conversation with his palm— as if he was willing his bones to give him the answers.

"You should do it." Max said simply. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge– nudging Daniel out of the way as he did so.

"Wait what now?" Daniel's head whipped up, his shock returned.

Max shrugged, he said what he said and he knew Daniel heard him.

"But…"

"You can grip the racquet, you're right hand dominant anyway so it'll just be if you want to power through your back hand– which you don't normally do a lot so I don't think you're going to all of a sudden want to, maybe." Max stated matter of factly with a small shrug of his broad shoulders. Blake and Daniel stared at him as if he grew another head.

A loud crunch sounded behind them and Daniel almost got whiplash from turning to see Micheal sitting on the island countertop eating an apple. "He's right." Is all he added, his mouth full.

"What if— what if I like fall or something?" Daniel's voice was small, insecure. His shoulders sagged a little.

"Don't fall." Was Michael's oh so helpful reply.

"Just like…tuck?" Blake was marginally better but still received a deadpan glare.

"I can't think of crashing when I drive, or else I won't drive to the best of my abilities. You never used to think of falling when you play, you shouldn't start now." Max cupped Daniels cheek with his cold palm– wet from the condensation.

"Max—" Daniel felt nervous, helpless. But he wasn't sure if he was ready. He wanted to play, don't get him wrong. The fire was in his belly and watching the US Open had been an exercise in torture. But now that the opportunity was in front of him, he felt hesitant to step forward and take it.

Max watched him with a quiet confidence that was just all Max. Daniel looked around and saw Blake and Micheal also looking at him with a silent belief. They believed he was ready but they were ultimately leaving it to his decision.

"How soon can we leave?" Daniel asked after a moment, bolstered their faith and conviction.

The group of men cheered, apologizing swiftly and contritely to the cats who scattered in fear at the sudden noise.

#maxiel #max/daniel #tennis!dan #tennis player! Dan #tennis au

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hospitalequipmentsproviders · 2 years

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randomfoggytiger · 11 months

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"Sooner or Later a Man's Gotta Face His Demons"

(Fictober, Day 31)

An end to my first Fictober-- what a fun time it's been~.

*****

They were on a stakeout, an aspect of the in-betweens, of the wait-and-chase, hunt-and-catch, nine-to-five that came with the job. More mainstream work-- the everyday kind excluding conspiracies and monster men, generally-- that required hiding in plain sight. It was an opposite set of skills to their usual modus operandi, a good exercise to knock the rust from their joints and reacquaint themselves with procedure. Less satisfying, but no less rewarding.

The idling car was wrapped in fog, the yellow glare of the headlights splicing through the breathy autumn air. Warmth languidly settled on its passengers, coating them in a bone-deep relaxation that was battled every hour or two by fiddling with the temperature. No place to go but here, no other person in the world except the one on either side of the seat.

Scully half-expected her breath to mark the air when she broke the silence. “Mulder, how come we’ve never investigated a case on Samhain?”

“What do you mean?” The unspoken commandment now broken, he greedily cracked open a sunflower seed. The sacred dark was next to be disturbed: the driver side door popped open unceremoniously-- the window still fixedly stuck-- and a shell was spit across the frosty road. Maybe, hopefully, it would snow soon.

“Samhain? Gaelic pagan tradition? Predecessor to All Saints Day which precedes All Souls Day? Men and women and children parading in masks, going door to door to ward off demons? The door to the spirit realm being opened once a year? Any of this--” she paused, accepted the shelled compact of salt Mulder handed her, “--ringing a bell?”

“You got any fairies you want to catch up with, Scully?”

“Samhain, Mulder.”

He shrugged. “We just… never got around to it.”

“...'We’.”

“There is a partnership here, Scully-- yin and yang, push and pull, give and take.”

She weighed his words, rolling the seed around in her palm. “So, we never investigated Samhain because I never brought it up.”

“And because you, the resident Irish Catholic,” Mulder reminded, pointing a finger in her direction, “never brought it up, I thought it was unimportant. Therefore, no Samhain.”

“I think you’re afraid.” Scully was surprised-- and pleased-- that she had so swiftly and so thoroughly appalled her partner.

“Afraid? We’ve already seen ghosts, Scully-- a few more spooks or spirits isn’t going to bother me. Besides, you seem to attract them in abundance, little Gaelic woman.”

“And the ritualistic, celebratory bonfires have… no sway in your decision?”

The silence was back for a temporary pit stop, crackling with suppressed sheepishness and bubbling mirth as Mulder smirked, caught, and Scully grinned, amused. He reached forward to fiddle with the heater, and she sat back to avoid the expected colder blast of air.

“Scully, did I ever tell you about the time we almost investigated a fire-breathing goblin in Minnesota?”

“No kidding.”

She shifted closer, letting her eyes drift to his recently razed hair. Remembered the patches over his surgical scars, remembered his determined eyes when he asked her to cut it shorter. Reclamation, they’d both thought; vanity they’d both bantered. Mulder the phoenix, brain on fire and rising from the ashes. Waited for him to dole out another of the hoarded secrets he’d been sharing since his recovery.

“The locals called it 'the cinder leprechaun’ until an Irishman got into a public brawl over the finer points of Irish mythology. He was running for mayoral election; and you can guess how popular he was at the polls that year.”

“I see. And was he the first to witness this fire-breathing goblin?”

“Almost; but not quite.”

Mulder shifted closer as well, placing the sunflower bag in a coaster and scooping up his discarded coat from the back. Scully let him settle it around her, even let him tuck her in before nudging her partner back on track.

“Mulder, who did see it first?”

“Two witnesses-- same time, different stories. Both sober or thereabouts.”

She burrowed deeper into her new blanket. “Then what really happened?”

“Well, without being there to know for certain, I'd say it's the same as always, Scully.” Mulder left her in suspense-- not purposefully-- as he mulled over life, Samhain, and the pursuit of leprechauns. “The truth happened somewhere in-between.”

Scully nodded, playfully tilting her head in his direction. "Where does my Samhain bonfire come into this, Mulder?"

As one unit they chuckled, grabbed another snack, and communed in the language of their own traditions.

Neither were disappointed.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

#txf #fic #Fictober #Day 31 #2023 #“Sooner or Later a Man's Gotta Face His Demons”#mine #S7 #Amor Fati #Mulder #Scully #xf fanfic #that title's magnifique #randomfoggytiger's fic

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