#yes i know the rules for tucking your pants in or out of your boots | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Text

last christmas, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of previous w/w relationship; pansexual reader; mentions of bad parents and discrimination / prejudice; reader def needs a therapist and Jeon Jungkook is not a therapist; JK is also reader's ex-gf's next-door neighbor; pining; awk tension; I cannot shut up about JK's big peepers; smut (fem reader, a lot of making out [both lips and bodies], light scratching, so much grinding, cowgirl); motorcycle-owning!JK takes you on a ride, whee

inspired by Wham!'s 'Last Christmas'; you are the shitty ex, don't read this unless you're okay with that and, yes, some decisions are made

You handed the bag over.

“This is it.”

“T… Thanks.”

The cold stung your cheeks. Around your neck was a dark green and black plaid scarf, thick layers shielding your heart that was exposed to the winter thanks to your open parka. Your hands returned to their tucked position in your fleece-lined pockets. You smiled, ever so slightly.

“You look pretty. The short hair suits your face well.”

She reached up to touch the tips of the chin-length bob, wispy front bangs framing her gentle eyes, not quite looking at you. You noticed her short nails were painted a light shimmery gold, suiting the holiday season. Her lips pursed and she breathed in deeply, looking straight into your eyes.

“Don’t say stuff like that. We’re not together anymore,” she said decisively.

“Ah… right.”

You left the smile on your face.

Right, because you could no longer compliment a person after dating them and then breaking up with them. Rules of some code apparently you didn’t get the memo for. The breeze whipped around your body, chilling moments as you stood at the doorstep of your former lover, feeling a strange kind of satisfaction seeing in her shiver in her fuzzy cream sweater and fleece pajama pants, complete with ivory fur slippers. But those thoughts were cruel to think and so was the bitterness.

She glanced at you.

You felt bad, seeing the glisten in her eyes.

In a box labelled donations in your apartment, there was a knit scarf, checkered peach and cream, the note included long gone, probably in a trashcan. Last Christmas, that scarf had been in silvery wrapping paper with a white silk ribbon, the package shaking in her hands and accompanied by a nervous smile, handed over for you to open, seeing the note first and then the handmade gift.

I love you above the handiwork of love.

It wasn’t the very next day, but you were still giving it away.

“I hope you have a nice holiday,” you said, bowing lightly.

“A-Ah, yeah,” she stuttered, clutching the brown bag of the few sweaters and joggers she had left at your apartment, all laundered and folded neatly the way she usually folded them. You had remembered, and this would be the last time you needed to remember how to delicately tuck sweaters into themselves like cake rolls. “I’m going to see my mom and dad. You should…” And she trailed off, knowing full well you weren’t going to see your parents. “You should eat something nice.”

You nodded.

Smile.

“I will. Take care.”

You took a step back and bowed again, taking your graceful exit from the front porch of that apartment that you would never walk into again.

You headed for the stairs, being careful when it came to the snow-slicked stone steps. Good thing your black boots had sturdy, thick treads. You reached back and pulled the hood of your parka up, fleece blanketing your head and ears, instantly warming your cold hair. It was already getting dark. You barely saw the sun these days, with work and all. There was something nice about the winter evening though, not as thick as the humid summer nights. Crisp and chilly, sure, but maybe you could argue that was all you were anyway.

Shit, holding a pity party for yourself? That’s rich.

The voice was inner self-loathing was nice and loud tonight, huh.

You heard your name being called from the garage at the bottom of the stairs. You looked up to see a familiar resident of these apartments.

Your ex-girlfriend’s next-door neighbor, in fact.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He smiled and waved, jogging over, something large and round under his arm. Black leather jacket, his gloves matching his jacket. Black jeans. Heavy-duty boots. You took a couple steps towards him, and then you spied the parked motorcycle, and finally recognizing that it was a motorcycle helmet he was holding. The sweater underneath with the somewhat tacky, bright red-and-white candy cane print didn’t quite match the rest of his ensemble.

He looked down when he realized you were staring at his chest and laughed. “Ah, yeah, I came back from a work party. Christmas lunch before we go on break. Theme was ugly sweaters.”

You blinked. “You could have tried harder.”

He grinned. “Yeah, my co-worker Jimin said that too, but I told him he was ugly enough for us both.”

You shook your head with a sheepish smile as the young man looked way too proud of himself burning someone who wasn’t even here to defend themselves. Well, supposedly he burned them publicly already. Poor Jimin. You had never met this Park Jimin Jungkook occasionally talked about, but they seemed to have a brotherly friendship, complete with Jungkook providing shithead younger brother quips.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” Jungkook said, tilting his head.

Oh. Right.

You pointed up and prepared yourself to say it again and again until everyone knew.

“We broke up.”

“Oh…” His expression fell, big round brown eyes and the downturn of his lips. Man, Jeon Jungkook looking sad was not something you realized you needed to brace yourself for until now. It almost made you sad seeing his expression. “I’m sorry to hear that. I liked watching movies with you two, since you like Marvel stuff.”

You chuckled. “I’m not banned from going to the theater. I can still go to opening nights with you, if you want.”

He scratched his cheek, nodding slowly. “She wouldn’t feel weird seeing you with me?” he asked.

Oh.

Right.

If it was only you and Jeon Jungkook going to the movies, then, of course, people would think certain things.

You answered him honestly.

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t need to give answers, but Jungkook was your ex’s next-door neighbor and you had made friends with the guy before she did. Would be odd, considering she had proximity on her side, but, as it turns out, she was the lesbian and you were the pansexual. She had other priorities than the man living next door. He was not that interesting to her.

You shrugged. “I don’t know how she would feel, but what’s done is done and life goes on.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

You puffed out your left cheek and then exhaled heavily. “As you can expect from my reaction, it was me who broke up with her.” You clicked your tongue. “It wasn’t her. It was me. I have issues when women try to take care of me, even if they only have good intentions.” You reached up and pushed your parka hood back, letting the cold wind pierce your skin again, eager to feel something else. “Doesn’t really happen to me when it’s men, but women? Hah... I tried to tell myself that that wasn’t it, but facts are facts. In the end, I didn’t like her anymore and it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.”

Sounded awful coming out of your mouth.

Truth was ugly.

“I thought I would feel like shit not being with her during Christmas, but actually I feel worse because I’m actually glad I’m out.”

You glanced at Jungkook, whose was staring at you with those big brown eyes. For his part, he simply accepted when you introduced his neighbor as your girlfriend back then. Didn’t pry much. It had come up in conversation about representation in movies, and you both clarified your sexualities. Jungkook’s reaction was, oh, cool. But, of course, you hadn’t specified about the differences of various romantic relationships for you personally, until now.

You winced. “Sorry. Kinda dumped all that on you.”

He shook his head quickly, his long black hair flying about like floppy puppy ears. “No, no. It’s okay. Have you talked to anyone about the breakup?” He held up his free hand, pulling it back a little. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. It’s just… I mean, I knew you two a little bit, so… I can listen, if you wanna say stuff.”

You opened your mouth, ready to say, yeah, I’ve talked about it, but then you realized, no, you haven’t talked to anyone about the breakup. You didn’t really have friends outside of the ones related to your previous relationship, and, well, he was standing right here. You certainly weren’t going to tell your parents about dating, least of all dating outside of the heteronormative. They already didn’t like you for various reasons and being anything but heterosexual was probably going to lead to full-on pitchforks and chasing. Not your idea of a fun Christmas, you had to admit.

Mostly because you were the one that had to do the outrunning.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his head, screwing up his face. “Uh, well, a friend much smarter than me told me once that good and bad is relative to who you’re talking to and that most of the time no one is good or bad because there are too many ways to judge.” As he spoke, his eyebrows became more knitted together in increasing confusion of unsure recollection. “Um. Something like that.”

You half-smiled. “Hm, ever considered becoming a therapist?”

Jungkook frowned, looking displeased. “Sounds complicated.”

You laughed. “Don’t worry. You would totally suck at it.”

He harrumphed. “Anyway,” he concluded gruffly, chopping the air, his Busan accent coming out with the flourishment. “I’m saying you don’t have to be sad or feel anything in particular.”

You nodded.

Awkward silence.

Jungkook suddenly perked up and pointed to his bike behind him. “Oh! Did I tell you? I got my motorcycle license over a month ago.”

No, he didn’t tell you, because at the point you had already broken up with your now-ex and stopped coming to this apartment complex. But you glossed over that detail and shook you head, cocking your chin to the metal monster. “Yours?”

He grinned, bouncing like the Energizer bunny. “Yup! Mine! I bought it as soon as I got my license. I always wanted one. Want a ride? I have an extra helmet upstairs.” He pointed up excitedly. “It’ll only take me a second to grab it.”

He knew you didn’t drive here and usually walked here from the train station because it was easier. You looked at the silver and black motorcycle and then back at him, seeing the bubbling eagerness and childlike joy in those sparkly big peepers. What the hell.

“Sure.”

He grinned.

You always liked Jungkook because he had such an expressive face.

He hurried past you and reached out to nudge your arm towards to the stairs. You stood steadfast, your head following his face as you saw his changing expression.

Time slowed.

So did Jungkook, stopping, standing beside you, his motorcycle helmet and arm in between your bodies.

You looked up at him.

Eyes connected.

Your hands lifted and you took his motorcycle helmet from him, ticking your head upstairs.

“I shouldn’t go back up there,” you softly said.

For a moment, he didn’t understand. You knew what he intended, you to follow him up to help carry the extra helmet so he had a hand free to lock the door again. But he hadn’t quite thought about why you were here in the first place, days away from Christmas, after months of not seeing you, and now the comprehension was creeping into his eyes, the wheels of his brain moving in real time right in front of you. You nodded slowly as his lips formed a small ‘o’ accompanied by quick, sharp nods as he bounded up the stone steps two at a time.

“I’ll be fast!”

“Don’t break a leg,” you scolded, rolling your eyes as he completely ignored you, but he held onto the railing, so at least he wouldn’t tumble down and squash you if he tripped.

That left you standing there in relative silence, holding Jeon Jungkook’s helmet and staring at his fairly new motorcycle, only a couple floors underneath your ex-girlfriend who you recently gave back all her things that she had left in your home, the only trace of her now being your memories that would fade in time.

You felt a bit weird, not minding too much about it.

Also felt a bit weird realizing in a few minutes you would be holding onto her next-door neighbor’s waist, your chest to his broad back.

I’m an asshole.

You sighed, remembering the apprehension you had felt embarking on this relationship. Maybe you should have listened to it, but, then again, hard to say. No one wants to believe they have issues. Also, she was quite cute and convincing at the time. Unlike in past relationships, she was already secure and didn’t make you feel ashamed about not being strictly lesbian or heterosexual. It made you think that this was right, this was how it should be, and then it started getting a little too serious.

You kept thinking, I’ll get over it.

You did not get over it.

Then you realized what you really meant was, I must get over it to prove that my shitty upbringing didn’t affect me but all I’m doing is pretending that I’m over it when I’m not.

Yeah, well.

You ended up breaking up with a nice, pretty girl that you weren’t really in love with. She had just made you feel secure because she actually accepted your sexuality, which was awesome but not enough.

So, why did you feel like a complete and total jerk, like you wasted her time, as if you weren’t worthy of it?

Don’t know.

You stared at the motorcycle in front of you.

He must feel free when riding it.

“I got the helmet!”

You didn’t even turn around when you heard Jungkook’s announcement. You were too busy transitioning out of your reflections. “Don’t you know motorcycle accidents are much more likely than car accidents?”

Jungkook popped into view, holding out the other helmet in his hands. You exchanged the one you were carrying with his, and he shrugged. “Everybody dies.”

“Morbid.”

“At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid,” he pointed out, revealing a bit of his inked skin under his leather sleeve. “Same reason I got tattoos.”

“Bet your mom loves that.”

“My mom just has to love my personality,” he laughed. “And I got defiance from her, so she’s doomed.”

You shook you head with a smile. Jungkook showed you how to put the helmet on.

“Just stay safe.”

“Don’t you mean drive safe?”

“It’s not just you on the road, dude.”

Suddenly, his hands stopped moving after you put it on. Now you were staring at Jungkook through the opening, about to close the visor, but then those brown orbs found yours. There was a strange intangible ripple between you and him. He tilted his head.

“Why are you talking as if you’re not here about to get on the bike with me?”

Everybody dies.

You pointed to the helmet. It felt heavy and odd. You were unaccustomed to the tightness. It smelled clean though. “I am. Why else would I put this thing on?”

Maybe I’m already dead because I don’t feel bad about what I did.

You wondered if you should feel bad, even though you did the right thing, even though you knew there were no real villains and heroes in this situation, even though you knew you both were only people that chose how to live their lives. How were you supposed to know if you were dragging things on or running away? The only thing you knew was that she deserved someone who really loved her as much as she loved you. It wasn’t her fault you didn’t. You just had to be honest about it.

Right?

Jungkook nodded and stuck on his helmet, fitting it snugly and climbed onto the motorcycle, unlocking it as signaling you to get on behind him.

“Hold onto me here. Set your feet there. Yeah.”

He was warm and solid and present.

He even smelled nice.

You didn’t think about it too much. What was there to think about? Life was complicated. You could spend countless hours analyzing why you made certain decisions, if they were wrong or right and in which eyes that mattered, and then all those thoughts blew away when the mechanical monster underneath you roared to life, loud and vicious and pure power wielded with skillful hands, and you held on tighter to Jungkook, startled by the sound, yet not scared for some reason.

Just fascinated as Jungkook pulled out of his parking spot and zoomed out of the garage, onto the road.

It was fuckin’ cold.

Layers of green-and-black plaid between Jungkook’s back and your sweater, shielding your racing heart, wind and speed and thrill shooting throughout your veins, the winter night flashing past, blurring streetlamps and stoplights, forgetting the cold, your hands tucked inside Jungkook’s jacket, fingers fanning over his waist and ribcage, feeling his muscles under the tacky sweater.

You closed your eyes.

At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid.

You used to think about riding a motorcycle when you were in middle school, although you had been looking at those smaller, zippy Japanese models, not a Harley-Davidson. You always assumed only loud obnoxious Americans rode that kind of stuff.

What?

Movies didn’t help.

Unfair stereotypes aside, it had been only a passing thought for you. One among many rebellious teenage desires. Cringe. That was hard to admit. But apparently for Jungkook it was a dream that he had turned into a reality and, while someone could view it in whatever negative light they wished, you saw it as walking the walk. You could respect that.

You leaned against him.

Felt the cold but there was something hot under layers of green-and-black plaid.

This is what joyride means, huh?

You were slowing down. Opened your eyes and saw Jungkook turning, seeing a parking lot and, across that, a field of white covered in a walkway of colorful lights. Oh. That was right. The park over here had put up this light display called Festival of Lights, where local artists had created wire sculptures covered in Christmas string lights which were displayed along a walkable path.

You went her last year, holding her hand.

You got off and took off your helmet, entranced by the bright twinkling displays, barely making out a gingerbread man doing a handstand.

“Wanna walk?”

You glanced at Jungkook. “What about this? Should I carry it?”

He laughed, waving to the sudden open top-box behind the seat. “Put it in here.”

You handed the helmet to him and watched in fascination. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a space to put stuff.”

He grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”

You following his bouncing jog with a loose stride, closing your fingers into your palm and remembering the feeling of his solid body in your hands only moments before. Furrowed your brows and shook your head, approaching the entrance, seeing a family several meters ahead, tired parents with a couple of loud kids pointing excitedly at a lit-up snowman holding six candy canes like Wolverine claws.

“Have you been here this year yet?”

“Ah, no,” you absentmindedly replied, seeing Santa and his reindeer. Classic, and well-done. “Haven’t had the time.”

“There’s one at the end I think you’ll like,” Jungkook was saying excitedly. “But I think the food vendors went home already. There was a hotteok truck and another one that sold roasted sweet potatoes, mmm, but maybe you can come back some other time.”

“Uh huh.”

You knocked into Jungkook’s back and bounced, vigorously shaking your head. “Ow.”

“Sorry, there’s ice. Careful.”

“Oh.”

You realized Jungkook was looking at you and you let go of his arm, not even realizing you had grabbed it out of instinct so you didn’t trip. A weird moment of muteness. You looked past him to see three chipmunks flashing in red, blue, and green scarves.

You looked up at Jungkook, who had followed your eye line to the three cuties.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you ask your neighbor why I wasn’t coming over anymore?”

Those brown eyes looked away from the twinkling artificial stars to your eyes. There was a little bit a guilt. They shifted away and came back and you realized Jungkook didn’t know how to lie but he also wasn’t sure if he was about to be out of line either.

“I… I heard her crying. A lot. And it’s none of my business,” he mumbled, frowning. “My mom told me not to be nosy,” he added under his breath.

You almost snorted. “You told your mom that you were worried about the lesbian couple next door?”

Jungkook squinted at you, annoyed. “No, I told my mom that I was worried that my friend might have broken up, so I asked her if I should do anything. Something nice?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed weird especially when Black Panther: Wakanda Forever came out, and I was going to ask if you, I mean, you both were going to the midnight release but…”

The kids were yelling in the distance and you didn’t even hear them.

You were just staring at Jungkook and noticing that his ears were turning bright red.

All the adrenaline from the speed and, now, everything slammed on the brakes.

“I didn’t cry.”

He blinked slowly. “What?”

You breathed out, looking around you, at snow and lights and white, and then at Jungkook, wearing all black and that candy-cane sweater, at yourself and your dark monochrome outfit, and then you admitted it again. “I didn’t cry, and I feel kinda shitty for it.”

“Oh.”

You stepped past Jungkook and walked down the carved-out path, following footprints and hard work. He followed and you acknowledged him, looking from one festive decoration to another, admiring the creations and spinning through the inner workings of your mind. “I felt frustrated. I know sexual attraction and romantic relationships are two different things, but I wanted to believe they weren’t. I wanted to believe that enough time had passed and I was okay, but I wasn’t okay and maybe I’ll never be okay, and I don’t know how to feel about that.”

You glanced up.

Jungkook looked confused and thoughtful at the same time. “I think you said before you don’t talk to your parents?”

“Yeah. They’re assholes.”

“Oh.”

That wasn’t very descriptive so you gave a brief explanation. “They looked at me like a product they made. A child was an object that they could program to do things they weren’t able to do, like make lots of money, marry rich, and in general sacrifice all my autotomy for their every beck and call.” You shrugged. “A dog would have more grace than their child.”

“Ouch.”

“Also, they would not understand that I’m pansexual. I think I’d be shot on the spot.”

“Don’t talk to them,” he puffed heatedly.

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement. “And, yeah, I’m sure that kind of upbringing affected my romantic relationships.” And lots of other things, but that wasn’t the point right now.

“Everybody goes through stuff like that.”

You looked at him.

Jungkook shrugged. “My last girlfriend said all I care about is myself and there’s a reason why all my friends are older than me and called me irresponsible, selfish, and childish.”

“Are you?”

He frowned. “I don’t think so? I do the dishes and always fold my laundry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only fold?”

“Okay, sometimes I leave it on the table for a little while,” he grumbled.

You chuckled. “How long ago was this?”

“Um, couple years ago? Maybe five?”

“You were barely an adult,” you commented, seeing a face-down figure with white hair in a bun and something that looked suspiciously like deer tracks on the back of that red coat. Uh. You decided not to comment and move on. “Still learning.”

“Learning to be a dick, she’d probably say now. She would tell me not to get a bike for sure.”

“Thought the whole point she was dating you was because you had a dick.”

Jungkook laughed, loud and vibrant, the lights making his cheeks glow. “Well, she’s married now so I guess she found a better one.”

“Or settled.”

“Damn, you would think you were the one who dated her,” he snickered. You could tell he was enjoying this though, those brown orbs sparkling a little too bright. There was a little bit of a jealous streak in him, you could sense. “I think I was dating the wrong kind of girl though. I think I have to date someone who shares my interests more. I like being with the person I like all the time. I don’t want them to be sick of me.”

“Mmm. I can see that. Pretty childish of you.”

“Hey!”

You laughed, nudging his side. “As long as you know you are the problem.”

He narrowed his eyes.

You grinned. “I didn’t say you weren’t a fun problem to have.”

Jungkook leaned closer, squinting harder.

You grinned wider.

Then you realized he was so close and he realized he was so close, both of you backing up at the same time. A little too fast, simultaneously darting your hands out and grabbing each other’s forearms, you grasping his right with your left hand and his right hand on your left sleeve, squeezing hard, immediately regaining balance.

You let go.

He let go.

Speed under a green-black plaid scarf, something hot and moving fast under all those layers.

“Sorry.”

“Ah, no, my fault. Sorry.”

You jerked your head towards the light displays and started walking again, trying to move past this sudden weirdness. You pointed out the various ones you liked. Yellow pill-shaped Minions decorating a Christmas tree. A curtain of lights programmed to look like falling snowflakes. Penguins sliding down a light-up hill. Slowing down. Breathing. You glanced at Jungkook.

He looked somewhat ashamed.

“Hey.”

He tilted his head, inquiring with his big eyes and pink nose. “Hm?”

“I’m glad you took me here. I don’t think I’ve done anything festive this year.”

“O… Oh.” He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought it might be cool. Cheer you up a bit.”

“Yeah. It’s funny. A lot of people think I don’t like this season.”

You saw Jungkook rub his nose, realizing it was cold. “Huh? Why?” he asked nasally.

You glanced down at your dark color palette. “Well, you know me, I like Halloween most, but I actually enjoy Christmas quite a lot. Not because I have any particularly nice memories around it,” you mused. “Ah, I mean when I was a kid. But, I don’t know, maybe that made me appreciate the spirit of the holiday time more than all the capitalistic stuff surrounding it, since I didn’t participate much in that.”

Jungkook blinked, puzzled. “You didn’t get gifts?”

You thought about it. “Hmm, not until I was an adult and only when I was dating someone who gave gifts.”

He pursed his lips and then reached out, taking your elbow and pulling your along, to the corner.

“Come on. This can be your gift.”

You stumbled behind him, craning your head in confusion. “Huh?”

“Did you watch Wakanda Forever?”

“Of course, I did. You know Black Panther is my favorite.”

“Then, look.”

Your eyes widened as the bright display of Black Panther, black lights complete with the purple highlights and signature action pose loomed among the other creations, slightly out of place because it wasn’t holiday-themed or even remotely Korean, but apparently none of that mattered and it didn’t matter to you as you admired the craftsmanship of the wire structure underneath, obvious it was specifically Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa from the violet details.

“Oh, shit. That’s sick,” you breathed, staring at the display for far too long and probably burning it into your eyeballs.

“I knew you’d like it right away.”

“That’s so random that it’s here.”

“I mean it’s not Christmas, but the movie did come out a month ago, so I guess they made an exception ‘cause it was so cool.”

“I mean this feels like Christmas to me. Put a Santa hat on him and call it a day.”

Jungkook laughed. “Okay, I’ll sneak one on in the night.”

You whipped your head to him, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean…”

“It turns off automatically at midnight to save power…” he trailed off, putting on a scheming face.

“Would you go to jail for that? Is a Santa hat vandalism?”

“I didn’t commit a crime if I don’t get caught,” he countered.

You gave him a look. “Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”

Jungkook scrunched up his face.

“Naughty or nice depends on who’s asking.”

He stuck his little pink tongue out.

You poked the tongue tip sticking out of his lips.

Instant wet warmth on your index finger. Jungkook jumped, startled at your quick action and even you snapped back, surprised at yourself. Why had you done that? A wave of fluster, and you froze, hand hovering in the air, and Jungkook rapidly blinking, cheeks turning bright red. Silence. Couldn’t even say sorry, too stunned at your action to try to double back to apologies. Big brown eyes framed with windswept black locks, something unsaid hanging between you and Jeon Jungkook.

A casual friendship.

Kept at a fixed distance for… reasons.

Well, it had been.

Nobody was stupid, but time and place meant something.

Fast lane, not feeling the cold, racing pulse, lowering your hand, and you could feel it. You knew it was there, but time and place and all those other things.

“Sorry,” you finally said.

Jungkook’s eyes started darting in all directions. “It… It’s okay.”

“It’s kind of not. No one should be touching other people’s tongues without permission,” you pointed out.

He wasn’t really looking at you. “It’s okay… I forgive you.”

“Stop pretending I’m not a bundle of walking problems.”

Now those brown orbs finally scooting back to you.

There was no getting around that.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a fun problem to have,” Jungkook mumbled softly.

Yeah, especially not after this irresponsible, selfish, childish guy said something like that.

There was a lot of shit you could say, but none of it seemed right. They sounded like excuses, or lame roundabouts, or too much too fast, like getting a whole sleeve of heavily-inked tattoos in a little under two years and a bigass motorbike after passing your motorcycle license exam. They sounded like feebleness in what was pretty clear, and you didn’t believe in saying something that wasn’t the truth.

“Um...”

Jungkook continued staring at you like a lost reindeer even though his nose was quite red.

You decided it was best to give a response. “Yeah?”

“You… You’re not doing anything on Christmas?” he asked.

“Ah, no. Nope, I just get a day off work.”

An extended silence.

You verbally approached very carefully. “You wanna… uh… hang out at my place?”

“Oh…” Man, this conversation sure was something. “I can bring some food and stuff. I can cook.”

“Me too.”

“You… like pork belly, right?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Good fuckin’ gracious.

You couldn’t stand it anymore and exasperatedly put your head in your hand. “Just…” You saw Jungkook peering at you, looking worried. You put your hand down, resolving yourself quite quickly. “Okay. Give me your number. I’ll text you the address.” You didn’t think about it too much. Just yanked your phone out of your inner pocket and furiously typed down the numbers that came out of Jungkook’s mouth, your frozen fingers needing to press more than once, but you eventually got there.

After you pressed send, you immediately jerked your head up and looked at those big brown eyes very seriously.

“I… We… What happens, happens,” you finally said.

Jungkook nodded determinedly. “Yeah.”

It was pretty obvious what was going to happen but, then again, there were children around.

Last Christmas you received a gift with a note that said I love you.

This year, you would receive…?

“You think Die Hard is a Christmas film?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Sure?”

The actual movie didn’t really matter. Mostly because you fell asleep on top of him and woke up to a black television screen, wrapped in a fuzzy red velvet blanket, and Jeon Jungkook staring at you in the darkness. You blinked slowly. Could barely make out his face in the faint light of the open window, seeing the shape of his parted lips, the shine of his large eyes, the waves of black hair that cradled his cheeks.

You had animated conversation over dinner, funny stories of Jungkook’s friends and viral videos you had both seen on the internet, so natural it was almost frightening, complete with weird tense moments of silence that you or he pushed along, resolute, knowing how you got here, and yet.

Chills all over despite the warmth under the blanket.

He was not wearing a tacky sweater now. Just a simple black and white plaid flannel and a white t-shirt under, paired with loose black pants. Oversized and cozy to go with your fleece red-and-black checkered long pajamas. He smelled the same as he did the other day. He didn’t bring anything with him but a large glass Tupperware of food and his motorcycle helmet, saying he forgot to leave it by his bike. His heavy black coat was hanging in the hall closet by the front door.

You stared at Jungkook, saying nothing.

Stayed close.

He leaned in.

You closed the distance.

You were pretty sure you had a soul of ice.

Then again, Jungkook had said earlier in the night that he had been told in his fortune that he had too much fire in him, so maybe it canceled out or something.

You wanted to say you had an entire, deep discussion of, is this a good idea, or perhaps even, what is courteous and respectful but also fulfills the personal desires of the very obvious between us, but there was only heavy making out and lip-locking and breathless gasps and your hands around his waist again, warm and solid and present, and you shuddered, breathing him in, pulling him close, pressing your body to his.

Jungkook didn’t waste time.

His hands were on your hips, his wispy moan trailing over your lips.

Oh no. You tried to resist the addictive sensation that demanded to be chased, your lower body rolling into his, feeling was what very real and very apparent, his shaking breath tickling your lower lip and chin, whine shimmering in his throat. He liked it. Pulled you closer, increasing the pressure, your clothed pussy practically riding his clothed dick.

You caught his moaning mouth and felt the electricity of his arousal enter your lungs, your hands tangling into his hair, pulling his head back, first lightly and then when he didn’t relent, harder, tearing a moan from his throat, loud and vicious and pure power of his vocal cords vibrating under your kisses, nipping at his neck and leaving small possessive marks that he encouraged with gasping, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, falling apart in your skillful hands, tracing the crown of his head, his ears, his jaw.

You ran your tongue over his collarbone and then softly trailed back with kisses.

“O-Oh, fuuuuck me…”

That was the idea, yeah.

He was unbuttoning your pajama shirt.

“Wha… Why are you wearing a bra?”

You guessed that was not supposed to sound whiny but then again Jungkook was pouting in frustration.

“I generally wear bras. You know, to hold my tits.”

He puffed his cheeks. “Don’t ladies usually not wear bras at home?”

“I imagine the situation might change if there was a hot man involved.”

An involuntarily shiver travelled all over Jungkook and the only reason you could feel it was because you were basically humping his dick.

“Also, we can’t talk much if you are distracted by my nipples,” you added.

You felt an agile hand creeping around to the back clasp. “What if I want to be distracted by your nipples…?” he trailed off experimentally, giving you a curious, mischievous look.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”

He tilted his head, sending dark strands over one eye and his cheek.

“Who’s asking?” he purred, his silvery voice low and deep.

Well, shit.

The man knew how to be sexy.

You raked your fingers through his thick black hair, feeling him tremble under you.

“Leader of the naughty list herself,” you breathed back, leaning in to kiss him again.

While it was true that Jungkook had not come with some last-minute wrapped trinket, he had brought a hard dick and abundant horniness, and that was a pretty good gift in your book. You showed him your boobs and those nipples he was so keen about – well, technically, he showed himself and audibly gasped when your bra tumbled off. You weren’t sure if he was acting or not, but that question was answered too, because he lifted you by the waist and ran his tongue over your cleavage and then started making out with your chest.

“Oh…!”

Your turn to be surprised and you clutched his head, gasping, pushing him to suck, and he didn’t need any more signs, circling his tongue around the hard nab and then his eyelids fluttered, moaning deep in his chest. Hot shivers at the feeling of his warm mouth and gentle insistence, your body pressing into him, matching his rhythm and sound, holding his free hand to your neglected breast while his other hand splayed over your lower back, strong and secure. Your thighs squeezed his waist, feeling his desire melt into yours.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know.

You just didn’t act on it and neither did Jungkook, other than the occasional puppy eyes because he was terrible at lying. He had made a conscious effort to stay securely in the friendzone out of respect. You had appreciated that, really. But then there was that chance meeting, and, even then, you knew he took you to the Festival of Lights just to cheer you up, not to put you in any complex or awkward situation, but, again, he was bad at lying and there was no getting around this very intense attraction between you and Jeon Jungkook.

Hence the current kissing down your stomach and you leaning back, slow cascading moan falling from your lips as you felt his dance around your bellybutton and he pulled down the waistband of your pajama pants, following your hip line.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy…”

Your fingertips grazing the lines of his legs, nails applying dainty pressure that made him quiver under you, his breath hitching as you placed your hands on his thighs and pressed your fingers inward, lifting yourself back up. Leaning down to kiss him again, tasting traces of you on his lips. Slowly peelings his clothes off, tangling him in them just to see his eyebrows knit in frustration, so cute, but you didn’t say, not yet, and then your clothes were in a rumpled pile on the living room floor. You in your panties and him in his boxer briefs, and you straddled his waist, kissing him repeatedly, rubbing your chest into his, feeling him under you.

Hot.

Shivering.

Overwhelmed with sensation, rolling his hips and hard cock into your covered heat.

He liked the feeling of your fingernails running down his chest. You did it once, just to test, and he reached for your hands, pulling them back up, more, and you watched his body writhe and fall apart under your touch, his head tipping back and lifting up his torso to add more pressure, moan hiking when you scratched down his sides and kissed his chest, licking his nipples, traveling to his back, earning a stronger reaction and his fingers sinking into your ass, his erection throbbing in between your thighs that squeezed his tense hips.

“Fuck, oh, fuck…”

You could feel the dampness occurring, both from you and him.

“J… Jungkook…”

You couldn’t stop kissing him, continuously telling yourself last one, but that was ages ago, lips locked and drunk on foreplay, on his body and his sound, vibrant and carnal, a mix of cute and sexy that was practically illegal. Couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop whispering to him how nice he felt, how nice he tasted, careless, absorbed in the strength of his lust.

“C-Can I fuck you…? I brought condoms in my coat, j-just in case…”

“Naughty boy,” you scolded and didn’t mean it, and it was dangerous, so dangerous the way Jungkook desperately moaned as you placed your hand over his damp, pulsing hardness and rubbed him through his underwear, too dangerous with the way he looked at you and gasped, you wanna sit in this naughty boy’s lap?

Thankfully, that was the extent of that.

Also, you didn’t bother going all the way to the hall closet when you had plenty of condoms in your bedroom.

And, yeah, you sat in his lap.

”Oooh, wow, y-you feel soooo fucking good…“

Could have been either of you or both of you saying it. You wouldn’t remember if you thought about it later, because you were too busy rocking your hips and trying to find the correct rhythm again. It was easier than you thought, maybe because of Jungkook’s roaming hands on your thighs, hips, breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure across your torso that matched the satisfying fullness deep inside, and, right there, finding the correct depth and forcefulness, chasing it immediately, building the steady pace with the condom wrapper tumbling down your sheets and hitting your knee.

You snatched it and chucked the foil wrapper over the side of your bed.

“Oh!”

“Forget about it, fuck me, Jungkook, fuck me.”

He angled his hips up and you rode him, relentless pleasure and waves of need satisfied by thrusting, clenching around his thick, hard cock, losing yourself in the shocking bliss.

You closed your eyes.

Felt the heat, so intense it sent chills up and down your spine. Couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, hands on his chest, tense and vibrating under harsh smacks and craving more, your name in Jungkook’s breathless voice addicting. His sound, intoxicating. His body, telling, unable to lie and you could be nothing but be honest, so good, fuck, feels so fucking good, speeding in the fast lane and soaring from the feeling.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was someone special.

You looked down, just for a moment, catching those brown eyes, glassy and fucked-out and watching you like you were everything and more.

I need him.

The thought was so intense and raw that you felt something inside you snap, your breath cutting off, torrential crash and orgasm seizing you by the throat, throwing your head back, your hair sweeping your shoulders, and you came around him, jerking your hips to bury him deeper, oh, fuck, yeees, suspended in the blissful, powerful rush, feeling your liquid honey leak out and down, covering him with it, the scent of sex rising between your bodies.

Jungkook lifted his hips and your body by doing so, his hands strongly grasping your waist, moaning with you, thrusting hard and fast, fucking your through your orgasm and you immediately tumbled into another peak, back-to-back intensity, feverish pitch of your joined voices as he came too, rock-hard and twitching inside your pulsating tightness, holding both of you up by a miracle.

Or sheer lust.

Nice or naughty, right?

For a moment, mute, stunned silence at the shared feeling between you and him.

Sure, it was pretty damn obvious you were going to fuck.

You just didn’t expect it to feel this good and this right.

Down, down, down. Slow, serene, subliminal, the way he sank down and both your gazes left the ceiling, sinking into your sheets, your eyes and his eyes connecting, quiet but an entire conversation humming between your bodies.

“J… Jungkook.”

He was panting hard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, his long black hair a mess your pillows. “Y… Yeah?”

“It’s… It’s a bit late…”

Well, actually, you had no idea what time it was.

“Y-Yeah, it kinda is…” he breathed, caressing your hips with his fingertips, relentless energy under you, eyes so big and brown that you could drown in that comforting darkness.

“Can you just…”

A pause, racing hearts beating together.

“Stay?” you asked, tentative and unsure.

Jungkook squeezed your thigh, reassurance in his touch.

“I wanna stay,” he stated, nodding determinedly.

So, he stayed, the start of many Christmases to come.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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zennialemo · 2 years

Text

Blacktober Prompt #5: Earth

Jamie waits, leaned against one of the wooden posts that designate the parking lot from the trail they’ve chosen. Technically, the Blue Hills are closed, as it’s long past dusk and far too early for dawn. It makes him a little nervous, to do something that’s against the rules. But May was insistent he needed a little moon magic in his life, to touch grass. So here he is, waiting for her.

He takes a deep breath. Honestly, this is already kind of nice. The crickets sing from every direction, the stars shine bright over head. And there, just behind the edge of the trees a little ways back, is the full moon.

He turns at the sound of wheels crunching over gravel, squinting and holding a arm up to block the headlights.

The car lights die, and May gets halfway out of the car, smiling ear to ear. “Are you ready!?”

Jamie lifts his leg. “I wore hiking boots and everything.”

May laughs, a loud contagious sound. “I knew you owned stilettos, even ballet flats, but I never thought I’d see you in hiking boots.”

“I,” He pops a hip out to the right. “Am fabulous in everything.”

“There have never been truer words.”

May is decked out in athletic wear, complete with her own well worn hiking boots. She even has a backpack.

Jamie runs a hand down one of the straps haphazardly. “I thought the trail was short.”

“Ah, but we are two black gays frolicking in the woods.” She winks at him.

Jamie smiles a little. “So we’re getting drunk.”

“Maybe. Never say never. Anyway, shall we?”

—

They walk quietly. It’s weird. May always has a story, or some fact to share. But, Jamie reminds himself, this is spiritual for her. She looks a little otherworldly under the intermittent light of the moon. Dark brown skin glowing in the moonlight and hiding in the dark shade of the trees. It’s like she’s one with the nature around them.

“Doing okay?”

He’s pulled from his thoughts when she turns to meet his glace. He nods. “It’s not as difficult as I thought it would be.”

She grins. “Told you all that biking you do would come in handy.” May turns back around. “Okay, a little detour off the path and we’re there.”

“I don’t want ticks.”

She sighs, and he can see her roll her eyes despite the fact that he’s looking at a head full of ombre box braids. “Pants tucked into socks?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Permethrin on your clothes?” She turns and levels him with a stare.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Lead the way.”

—

The clearing they come to is small, but brightly lit by the moon. May spreads out the blanket she brought for them to sit on, splays a tarot deck and snacks, lastly pulling out a bottle of moscato.

Jamie, perched on the opposite of the blanket, perks up at the sight of the sweet white wine.

She chuckles, jamming the bottle opener into the cork. “What do you love about the earth?”

The question gives him pause. He rubs a hand over the blanket, feels the texture of grass pushing through the cotton. “I don’t know,” he admits. “What about you?”

“Everything.” She hands Jamie a glass of wine. “She gives me a place to put my feet, she produced the grapes that made this wine. She turns steadily to show us the sun and moon… everything.”

The wind picks up, and Jamie closes his eyes at the pleasant breeze. “I love the wind. Sometimes, it feels like the world speaking to us.”

“Yes!”

“I love watching the trees dance when it’s gusty. Oh! And.. and way our whole world changes with the seasons.”

He opens his eyes to find May positively beaming at him, and he can’t help but return it. She holds up her glass, and he taps his against hers.

Jamie sips, then pauses. “I thought we were here for the moon.”

“Did you forget already? We’re also here because you needed to touch some fucking grass, look at leaves.” She downs her glass. “That’s the earth, baby.”

“I guess there’s time for both.”

May reaches for his glass to refill. “Always. Anyway, for us, there’s no one without the other.”

“Like you and me.” Jamie says, smiling.

She looks up at him, pouting a little. “Ow. Don’t say stuff like that. I’ll cry.”

He chuckles. “It’s true.”

“It is.” May says seriously. “You better not go anywhere.”

“Where would I go? I would be lost without you.”

May carefully puts down the wine and scoots to throw an arm around his shoulders. “Me too.”

---

Jamie and May are two of the characters in my future novel. This is my first time writing them! It was lovely to step away from planning to play with them for the first time. I know it only loosely hits the prompt, but it was a free-write - they did what they wanted to do. I hope it was enjoyable.

-Zennial

#blacktober #original character #ocs #queer characters #black characters

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azenkii · 4 years

Text

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

#holy cow this ended up so much longer than i intended #atla #avatar #zuko #firelord zuko #headcanons

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

One Night| Hunter

Note: Nsfw content,

Warnings: creampies, p in v, facials, squirting, name calling, rough, hair pulling, light choking, smoking 18+ content

Reader: Female

"Thanks again." Y/n thanked the kessel burbon slid to her, sliding credits to Cid, "any more missions?"

"No,those clone boys took the last one I had." Cid spoke, "there won't be any more for a few cycles."

"Clones took my jobs?" Y/n questioned, sipping the hard liquor.

"Yeah! When wrecker through those KT troopers like it was nothing!" Omega cheered as the group walked down into the bar.

"Speak of the devil." Cid spoke, Y/n turning her head.

"Yes Wrecker's strength was acceptionally helpful this mission. Yet Omega's new tracking skills came in handy." Tech spoke.

"And Echo's climbing skills! How do you do that with one hand?!" Omega cheered.

"Pratice." Echo spoke.

Hunter chuckled at Omega's happiness.

"We did good boys-"

He stopped, seeing Y/n casually talking to Cid, sipping on her drink, her hair a mess, a few braids in her short hair making her hair uneven in both long and short length. In baggy black robes a belt tired tigh around her waist. Boots knee high with her baggy pants tucked in. Her eyeliner red and in sharp wings up towards her relaxed brows.

She turned her gaze towards hunter, her eyes a cybernetic white, then her head followed. Her gaze lingering on him as she smiled smally.

"Oh no no no! Watch your eyes dark and broody!" Cid argued, rushing around the counter.

"Don't mind me I'm also looking disrespectfully." Y/n teased getting up from her seat, following behind Cid.

"Uh," Hunter tried to speak, woah was his only thought process, "Your...new."

"Not knew. Just havent seen me before." Y/n smiled, standing next to Cid with a hand on her hip, "names Y/n's and Im presuming you all are the clones that have been taking my jobs?"

"Oh, we are?" Omega looked up at Hunter, who was still at a lost for words.

"What?" Hunter asked looking down at Omega.

Y/n chuckled, walking up to the longer haired male, "Listen, dark and broody, we can be friends. I just want my missions."

She leaned into his face, his face becoming red "Y-yeah..."

"Thanks then." Y/n smiled, his eyes gazing to his banana, "I'll take this as payment for taking my last missions."

With ease she pulled the headband off his head, turning her head half way to talk to Cid she smiled.

"I'll see you late then mom." Y/n chuckled, nudging Hunter as she passed, "Im off to collect some credits Im owed."

"Did she just call Cid Mom?" Wrecker questioned Y/n walking out the bar and up the steps.

"I believe she did." Tech responded.

Hunter was hit in the side with Cid's walking staff, "I'm docking your pay half!"

"What!?" Hunter argued.

"Thats what you get for lookin at my kid like that!" Cid defended, "watch it next time"

"Well if our pay has already been docked. She was quiet pretty. Her eyes especially." Tech repsonded as Hunter nudged him hard.

"Hey-"

"Don't worry, Hunter if you marry her Cid's your new mom!" Wrecker laughed shoving the man.

"I don't even know her!" Hunter argued.

"And that'll never happen!" Cid defended, "now watch it before I dock all your pay! You won't be seeing her again."

"But she took Hunter's bandanna." Omega pointed out, Hunter feeling his head.

"She did?!"

"And I thought Wrecker had it bad for that twilek girl he helped at the market." Echo told.

So there Hunter was, left the whole day with no headband, atleast 3 standard hours he waited, rubbing his head feeling as if he was missing something, well he was missing something.

"Hey! Mom! You'll never guess the load I got this time!" Y/n called out walking down the steps and into the bar, "I beat fifteen of the finest warriors apparently! Yeah right!"

Y/n walked in, gym bag at her side, the boys turning to the girl, stripped down to a tank top and a diffrent set of black pants that were tucked into her boots, a certain red bandana around her thigh.

"Oh you're all still here." She spoke, "I was-"

Hunter stepped infront of her, "I'd like my bandana back."

"Hm? Yeah come on." Y/n spoke, walking around him, "follow me."

"Yeah no sorry- not happening-" Hunter argued grabbing her wrist, "just hand it over."

Y/n ripped her wrist from him, hurting his hand in the process, "well then take it off, its right there."

Hunter kept his gaze away from Y/n's thigh, her ahoulder looking interesting at the momment.

"Well its mine then." Y/n spoke going to walk away but her arm was grabbed, Hunter turning to her as he kept his gaze up, his hands feeling for the band,

She chuckled, "little higher and you'll be at my zipper-"

He sighed looking away as he felt his bandana, his hand reaching around and untying it from her thigh.

"You smell nice." Y/n teased

"I don't see how you're Cid's kid." Hunter commented.

"Not by blood sweetheart." Y/n commented.

There was a chuckle as Hunter turned his head, Tech and Echo going back to there silence Wrecker luckily out and about with Omega. Hunter removed the band finally as Y/n chuckled.

Y/n leaned over, kissing Hunter's cheek as he flushed, "rooms down the hall on your left, we should be lucky my mom's on the upper floors."

Hunter only nodded as Y/n walked away, waving to his two brothers who were playing sabbec at the bar.

Hunter turned around to follow her a few mintues later, "don't be too loud."

Hunter glared at the two but made his leave anyways, following Y/n's instructions. Making it to the last door he knocked the door sliding open as Y/n sat on the floor, a tray in her lap, neon fairy lights on the strung carelessly on the walls and ceiling, weapons littered on the floor, some things hanging on the walls, there was a mess of the bed.

"So you came." She spoke popping whatever she was rolling into a jar, setting it on her nightstand and pushing the tray into the drawer. Standing up zhe grabbed a box of matches, throwing herself into one of the large bean bag chairs, big enough for two people, "lock the door would you?"

He did as asked, "why call me in here?"

"Well...Dark and Broody." Y/n spoke, "sit, come on."

Patting the seat besides her he walked over, "I have a name."

"Okay? Tell me it."

"Hunter."

"Okay Hunter." She spoke, "you seemed tense. So we. Me and you. Are gonna smoke-"

"Smoke? Smoke what-"

"One of these." Y/n spoke holding up the jar, "Kessel herb."

"Spice? Yeah no-"

"No. Herb." Y/n defended, "there's a big difference."

Hunter watched her swish the jar around in front of him, "you pick one for me atleast."

Mentally sighing he did as asked, Pulling out a joint for her she smiled, closing the jar and setting it aside, "atleast this doesn't smell bad, smells like flowers."

Hunter watched her open up the match box, the joint between her lips as she striked the first match, a complete dud, she moved onto the second one, also a dud, by the fourth one Hunter was wondering if she'd ever light the thing.

"Dropped them in water-"

"I can do it." Hunter cut off, Y/n gladly handing him the match box as she leaned over, he striking out on the first match but the second one he got working, the flame bright and prominet despite the red undertone of the lights, leaning over as well he lit the thing easy as pie.

"Thanks."

He watched her take a deep inhale in bowing out through her nose she leaned back, muscles already calming and relaxing.

"Why did you really call me in here."

"I told you to smoke." Y/n spoke, "I know a stressed man when I see one. Shit half the time I am a stressed man."

Hunter watched her take in another puff, "Plus it would ruffle my moms scales."

Hunter chuckled Y/n was right about that much, "yet also wanted to see if you wanted to hook up for a night."

Hunter coughed, not because of the smoke but the abruptness, "I'm sorry?"

"Well I seen you look at me the way you did earlier," she told, "and you're pretty good looking, but you seem to atleast have a good head on your sholders, men I know that look at me usually make a comment right away, you kept them to yourself."

Hunter responded with silence, "it's just a suggestion, an idea." She told him turning to look at him.

Again silence and Y/n contuined to smoke as if it was no problem that he said no, he found it, hot, sexy even. She knew what she wanted and she asked if told no she was okay with that, carrying out through her day.

"Why me?"

"I just explained why, you." Y/n spoke, "its yes or no tense guy."

Hunter shifted, its been a while, he mentally sighed, Y/n returning to smoking casually. Was this a way of teasing? If it was, it was harsh, and it was working. Shifting once more there chlothed and armored touching one another.

Damn, Hunter thought, to have her strong thigh in his hand, his head between her thighs. He looked up seeing Y/n pull the joint away once more, feeling the stare Y/n turned her head

"Wanna try it after all?" Y/n questioned, bringing the joint infront of him, "if not more for me."

Fuck it, the empire rules the galaxy, the republic fell, his brother is trying to kill them, what could he possibly loose from having any fun.

He took it with gloved fingers bringing it to his lips, Y/n watched him take a deep inhale, Y/n impresssed.

"This isnt your first rodeo." She teased.

He leaned in closer to her, if even physically possible, removing the joint from his lips, he pushed closer to Y/n, his lips placed on her's softly, and only for a momment, then pulled away, strings of smoke coming from both there lips now as Hunter's mind felt clear, relaxed.

"Lets do it." Hunter responded, usuing his armor as an ash tray, pressing the ashes to death on his chest plate as the embers died.

"One puffs not gonna get you anywhere." Y/n teased.

"But you will..." he whispered against her lips, pressing furthur once more he kissed her.

The kiss much more passionate than the first, Y/n running her hands through his hair, his bandanna slipping off in the process as she tossed it away.

"Fuck you're so hot..." He whispered into the kiss, Y/n moaning softly, his hands untucking her white tank top from her pants.

"Don't tell Im sharing with someone, thats why you came back all undressed." He teased against her lips, his hands hiking up her t-shirt past her covered breast.

"If sharing means arena fights. Then yes." Y/n teased back causing Hunter to chuckle.

Hunter pulled away, unclapssing his armor as she watched, letting it be tossed to the floor he was stripped down to his blacks. Bitting her lip at the buldge in his blacks, he leaned back into her,kissing her lip's passionately, forcing his tongue into her mouth she groaned, his touange pressing against his as they fought.

The kiss ended in a tie, both pulling away panting, Hunter let his hand's find her bare skin in the mean time, traveling up her adoment and covered breast he found her shirt, pulling away he lifted it over her head and arms. About to kiss her again she stopped him, pulling on the edge of his blacks, she pulled his shirt up, he lifting his arms in the process, his gloves rolling off with his sleeves in the process. Tossing the article of chlothing somewhere random. He removing her black sports bra, he kissed her just above her breast.

She humming in pleasure as he did so, traveling up to her neck, kicking her boots and socks off in the process, her legs tensed squeezing together Hunter had found her sweet spot, the space just above her collar bone, where her muscle was tense.

"H-hunter..." she panted, kissing the side of his head as she let out a soft groan, her head rolling back as her fingers tugged on his hair.

"You drive me crazy doing that..." Hunter whispered against her skin, dragging his kisses down her chest, and to her breast, where he let himself take in one of her soft buds.

"Fuck..." he moaned, his hair being pulled once more.

"Maker you're mouths amazing-" Y/n spoke her legs squeeze together tighter, adding to her pleasure as she groaned.

Switching over to give the second one just as much attention his hand cupped her other breast, squeezing her battle scared flesh softly, his other hand slipping behind her waist band slipping into her panties.

Hunter pulled away from her bud with a intoxicated look, "Your soaked..."

Y/n chuckled, "and you're hard as a rock..."

Pulling his hands away from her, she watched him undo her pants, pulling them down as quick as he could, and with her help of kicking them off they were gone.

Y/n reached for the last of his blacks, pulling them off his hips he pulled at them as well, removing his boxers as well. His chlothes barely releasing his length, Y/n's hand wrapped around the base of his aching cock.

Y/n's face laced with warmth and a teasing smirk she let her thumb rub the strip under the base of his cock, he groaned watching her tease his cock. His hand pulling at her panties she raised her hips to help, and he loosely pulled them down enough to let his hand go between her legs.

His finger's teasing her clit softly as she meweled, "Fucking hell..." she whined softly.

Both messes under each other's touches Y/n picked up a pace, her hand starting to milk his cock as he moaned heavily, body both relaxed and tense he gripped her thigh.

"Easy- now..." Y/n whispered to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "Don't wanna finish just in my hand do we?"

Hunter shook his head no, "you better be on something...I'm gonna cum in you till you beg me to stop..." he moaned.

She chuckled, leaning into his ear, "yeah? Am I gonna be sitting in pools of your cum?"

"Fuck yeah you are." He told her, "f-from every fuckin hole, starting with you're mouth."

She was taken back both by comment. He stood up as she looked up at him, his cock in her face, she moved forward, her lips brushing against his cock as she licked his tip, the taste of Pre-Cum now on her touange.

"Salty..." she teased kissing down his shaft, her hand wrapping around his base. Looking up at him his face was flushed, yet still held a determined look of lust in his eye.

Pulling back to the tip of his cock she kissed the tip, opening her mouth she pushed his tip in, her hands resting on his hips.

Fuck does he feel so good down my throat, Y/n thought, her eyes closed as she moaned, bobbing her head almost instantly causing Hunter to groan.

"Easy doll. You don't wanna choke." He teased, watching her bobbing increase he moaned loudly, her pace only increasing, "Maker you know to suck cock- s-shit-"

Y/n pulled away jacking his siliva covered cock off, "H-hunter fill me with your cum please. I wanna be in a pool of your cum."

He covered his mouth, what the fuck., but he wasnt complaining, watching her deep throat him again he groaned, his hips starting to pool back and thrust, and as soon as he knew it he was holding the back of her head, mouth fucking her hard.

"Yeah baby take it all...like a little slut take it all for me." He moaned, " hell- I'm-"

Hunter hit deep inside her mouth, cumming down her throat, mid way pulling out letting the rest coat her face.

"H-hunter!" She meweled, but he covered her mouth, not wanting anyone to hear.

She swallowed his cum, groaning into his hand as he pulled his hand away.

"They can't hear us..." she panted, cum covered her face and mixed with her drool as she tried to catch her breath, "t-the walls are solid concrete..."

"Well then...I suppose I will be making you scream..." he panted as she bit her lip, looking down at her he chuckled.

Face covered in cum, running down her lips and chin, her breast perky, marks already starting to form on her neck, her panties down to her knees as she sat waiting for him, flushed and horny.

"Maker I can not wait to put my cock in that tight pussy of your's." He told her, his thumb holding her chin.

"Then do it. Fuck me till you can't cum no more" she begged, watching him kneel down infront of her, causing him to chuckle.

"I want a taste of you first." He told her.

Pulling her panties off she bit her lip as he grabbed her legs roughly by the back of her knees, spreading them from one another, she shifted in her spot, allowing her legs to spread a bit wider and give him a better veiw. Hunter didn't bother teasing her, her pussy soaked and aching as he dived in, eating at her clit.

"F-fuck Hunter!" She cried, her back arching as she gripped onto his hair immediately.

Y/n was in heaven, Hunter between her legs completely devoring her.

"Baby so sweet..." he moaned into her cunt, licking up every bit of her fluid he could, shoving his touange deep inside her.

"Oh- maker! Fuck me! Please fuck me!" She begged, his fingers joining his touange deep inside her, as an incoherent mewel escaped her lips, his fingers thrusting deep inside her.

"Come on baby..squirt for me i wanna taste it." He whispered against her cunt.

"H-holy shit!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, eating her raw her back arched and her legs squeezed together but he pulled away, spanking her on the back of the thigh.

"Do that again and I'll stop eating you out and fuck you until you're raw." Hunter deamnded, she nodded mindlessly, as he went back to devoring her.

Her pussy pulsating as he shoved his touange deep insider her, his fingers competing for space.

"H-hunter..." she whined, feeling like she was to snap, "H-Hunter- Hunter! Hunter!"

She squirted into his mouth, her legs squeezing together in pleasure.

"F-fuck!" She moaned, back arching as her legs shook, "F-fuck,"

He pulled away from her, flicking her clit with his fingers intesifiying her orgaism. Moaning loudly she watched him getting up to his knees he leaned over her grabbing her face.

"I told you if you closed your legs again I'd fuck you until your raw." He argued as Y/n blushed deeply.

"I'm sorry sir..." she apologized, pussy still pulsating, still completely soaked with a mix of her own cum and his siliva.

"What did you call me?"

"S-sorry daddy." She apologized.

"Atleast you know your place."

Holy fuck, where did this Hunter come from? Not that she knew Hunter at all, but it was still a shock to see the 'dark and broody' man become such a sex addict that liked to be called daddy.

"You either call me daddy or sarge," he demanded grabbing her chin, "understand?"

She nodded in response.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes daddy."

"Good girl..." he praised, "the better you are the more cum you'll get, understand?"

"Yes daddy."

He spred her legs open again, his knees resting on the bean bag below her as he lined himself up with her soaked entrence. Pushing his tip in her she moaned loudly, her feet resting on his hips, he chuckled, grabbing her hips tightly he shoved himself in her fully.

"F-fuck!" She cried out, "Oh maker yes!"

He started beating into her without warning, she crying out in pleasure as her body shook.

"D-daddy so rough! Oh-yes!" She shouted.

"Touch yourself While I fuck you," he demanded, her hand hand reaching between her legs,rubbing her clit while he fucked her senseless, "Good girl, looks like someone wants to be filled with cum."

She moaned nodding her head in the process as he beating balls deep into her, hearing his cum filled balls slapping against her soaked skin.

"F-fuck daddy please!" She begged, one of his hands finding the back of her hair as he gripped it, arching her over.

"Please what baby girl? Come on. Tell daddy what you want."

"P-please cum in me!" She cried drooling in pleasure, he groaned her tight pussy walls clenching around him, "H-Hunter!"

Moaning heavily he gripped her hair tighter, her free hand gripping his forearm as she bit her lip. The feeling built up in her stomach.

"Y-yeah! D-daddy! Daddy make me cum!" She begged, he watched her come unraveled, beating into her roughly her back arched, toes curling as she moaned loudly, soaking his cock as she squirted onto him, he pulled out of her, rubbing her clit intesifiying her orgaism.

"Oh- Shit!" She cried, the quicker he rubbing her clit more she squirted, slipping back into her he delievered a few hard thrust as she cried out, pulling out once more her orgaism intense as she held her legs open.

"Fuck daddy!" She cried.

"Come on baby let it all out." He praised, slipping into her again and fucking her roughly for a few more thrust, pulling out once more as she squirted the last she could.

"H-hunter- Hunter!"

"Shh baby. Shh." He spoke leaning kissing her roughly she kissed back, pulling away he looked down at her, "You still need my cum in you huh baby?"

"Mhmm, yes please." She begged.

"Good girl." He praised, kissing her sloppily as she groaned.

Pulling away she held onto his arm as he pushed his way back into her, causing her to mewel out his name.

"What a perfect little pussy." He told her, starting to thrust into her, his hand rest at the side of her throat as his thumb pulled her chin down, she wore a curled smile with a deep blush, her pupils dialted wide and pupils seemingly in the shape of hearts.

"H-hunter...daddy..." she meweled.

He grunted down a groan, feeling himself starting to become unraveled, "pussys still tight for me,fuck-"

His gripp tightned around her neck, causing her to choke slightly, as his thrust became sloppy, becoming increasingly rougher as her moans grew louder once more. Loosing rythem he pulled his hand away from her neck, his hands gripping her hips for leverage as he pulled them against his thrust, groaning loudly he still beat into her harshly, his cock pulsating in her. She begged for him to creampie her, her hands finding his hair as she tugged and pulled.

"Ah! Fuck! Yeah! Fuck!" He groaned, "Oh! OH!"

He shoved himself deep inside of her keeping her steady as her back arched, his own body arching into her's as he released a massive load of cum into her.

"Oh! Fuck yeah!" He groaned, completely loosing control, contuining his rough thrust.

"H-hunter! Hunter! Holy shit!" She cried out.

"Fuck Im cumming again!"

"H-hunter! Fuck!" A second smaller load was shot into her, filling her womb with his hot seed as he held her hips tight, rocking into her steadily as to make sure he stuffed her. He panted heavily, his ears seemingly ringing as he looked down at her.

Her mouth agape as she breathed heavily, her breast rising and falling with heavy pants.

"Good girl..." Hunter praised, slolwy pulling out of her, Y/n letting out the last of her soft moans.

He panted heavily, his hands spreading her legs as she ended up holding her legs open by her inner thighs, Hunter watches the thick cum leaked out of her, cum covering her pussy folds.

"Good girl." Hunter praised, a few of his fingers scooping up some of the cum as she opened her mouth, letting it sloppily leak from Hunter's hand to her mouth and face, "Now, turn over on all fours, Im not done with you yet."

#sw tbb hunter #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter smut #hunter x female reader #hunter x y/n #the bad batch hunter #hunter star wars #star wars hunter #hunter the bad batch #x reader smut

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endobiologist · 3 years

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Trans Guy Tips #5; Dressing Good

Today, we're going to talk about basic fashion, and some things trans guys specifically need to know when buying a new wardrobe.

Some of these rules can always be broken, it's your body and your choice what to put on it!

However, this is a guide for passing better, so feminine and androgynous looks will not be covered here, only the traditional masculine. I will most likely make a guide out on dressing that way later.

1. Match colors, but don't be afraid to throw in some accent detail colors! Usually when you think of fashion, you think of making everything match, however some things will go better with some contrast rather than plainly matching!

As long as it still has some similarity, it doesn't have to be the same.

The most basic rule you need to learn dressing as a man, is that you wear your belt to your shoes.

If your belt is brown, so should your shoes be.

If your belt is black, they should be black.

Usually most fashion rules can be broken, but this one seems to be very important, as it can throw off the whole appearance of an outfit to have mismatching shoes and belt.

2. Use what I call the finger trick.

When selecting a shirt, specifically a dress shirt, put your fingers in the collar between your neck and the collar.

If you can comfortably fit two or even maybe barely three fingers in there, then that's a perfect fit shirt around your neck.

If you can fit four or more fingers, it's loose and will make you look baggy and overweight.

If you can fit only one, or feel any pressure on your throat, you need a looser shirt because it's too tight.

3. Somewhat similar, but when buying pants, this may be the most important thing of all.

If you get the right set of pants, it can disguise even the biggest of curves.

You want to get what's known as a straight-leg jean pant, you can make it a cargo pant if you wish, either one looks very masculine and good.

I would usually recommend bootcut pants if you wear longer shoes, like boots, or combat boots, or anything you need to tuck the jeans into.

Always get pants that don't feel constricting, and always get them where they fit comfortably with a belt, but don't need a belt due to fitting good already.

But straight-leg type is so important to go for, it's one of the things that makes a boxy figure like a cis man's.

4. I'm not sure if this is obvious or may come as a surprise to some people, but even if you like dressing femininely, if you wish to pass, I would suggest always shopping in the men's section.

They have shirts and pants and everything else under the sun that shaped specifically for men's bodies, making yours look even more like a cis man's, which is very gender affirming. Also women's jeans are made to support the butt and make you look feminine and curvy, while men's are designed to be straight, boxy, and comfortable, usually with deep pockets too!

5. Similar to the matching rule before, you can match a busy pattern shirt with a plain pair of pants, or busy pattern and pants with a plain shirt. However if you put too many busy patterns, or too much plainness, either way makes you look not as good.

Try to balance the detail with the simplicity.

6. Overall the most masculine thing you can wear especially pre-t, is either a formal or casual suit.

You can even wear just a dress shirt with a tie or bow tie, with some dress shoes and pants, and you're good!

This just generally makes you look super masculine and it's hard to mistake.

7. if you're like me, where you like to dress flamboyantly, but you're also super dysphoric about it, wait until you get testosterone therapy.

If you end up having it and you start seeing positive effects before dressing femininely, it's great!

I did this and now I feel totally comfortable with it, as no one ever misunderstands me even if I wear the most feminine things ever.

So if you're going on t, feel free to dress more extravagantly during because you will pass even so!

8. Another way to check shirts that are long sleeved, particularly dress shirts, is to tuck it in like usual, and then lift up your arms really high like you're reaching for something.

If it untucks or lifts the fabric in an unflattering way where your armpits look huge, it's cut wrong and is not something you should buy.

9. This may be surprising to some, but yes, cis men will wear feminine designs on masculine outfits.

I can't count the number of times I've seen men wearing bright pink suits. Other times there's been crop tops, painted nails, hair done, everything.

So if you really like that button up with the flowers on it, but are feeling hesitant due to the feeling that people might judge you, don't worry!

Maybe some will, but a lot of people wear unique clothing, and no one will be as bad as what your thoughts say to you.

10. I have somewhat of a warning, as good and fun they are, t-shirts can be very revealing when it comes to showing your chest, even through your binder! Something about them isn't cut quite right, even if they come from the manliest man's site or store.

If you still wish to wear t-shirts like I do, I would recommend getting a short-sleeved or long-sleeved Dickies button up jacket/shirt that you wear open over it. Or any jacket thing, really. This covers your chest completely and negates that effect.

11. This is sort of more hygiene base but still has to do with getting dressed. Always use men's soap, and men's cologne, and men's essential oils, and men's lotion, if you have them.

Also use some aftershave, it's helpful if it has lotion mixed in and moisturizes as well.

You can even shave even if you're pre-t, due to it making a clean feeling due to there being no feminine peach fuzz on it. This can help support dysphoria relief, as well because it feels like you're shaving a beard, at least until it comes in.

When your moustache and beard do come in from testosterone, if you take it, make sure to oil it lightly with natural oils like argan oil or coconut oil, the stimulates hair growth and follicle health.

And I would recommend shaving just once as it starts developing, so it develops thicker, stronger, and more handsome.

12. If you're planning on going on t, buy at least some of your clothing a size or a few sizes up, or getting a duplicate that's larger.

You will grow, so if you buy all your clothing in a smaller size, you'll probably end up unable to use any of it.

13. Always position your belt buckle in the center of your stomach, the way you can tell if it's positioned right is if it lines up with the buttons of your button up perfectly.

14. When wearing a suit try to always keep the bottomless button unbuttoned. That button isn't actually there to be used, it's meant to be unbuttoned and it makes it look so much better.

The reason it looks so much better is because it makes it flattering and thinning. If you button all the buttons, it will make you look heavy due to it tightening around your waist and stomach.

15. You should always have at least two pairs of dress shoes. one pair that's black, and one pair that's brown. Same with belts. It's also recommended for summer that you keep one pair of masculine flip flops or sandals or sneakers around.

16. This is more of a suggestion than anything, however it's manly as fuck, and people love it.

If you carry a work knife, a pocket watch, a small portable multitool, and a handkerchief.

Possibly even a pen and small notepad with you at all times.

This may seem odd at first, but it's what men used to do constantly in the older days.

These items can come in very useful. A work knife can open packages, open letters, be used in place of scissors occasionally, and even used to defend yourself and others.

A pocket watch is just fancy and shows you're always trying to be on time.

A multi-tool shows you're ready for any task, and it can be a lifesaver in many situations!

Meanwhile a handkerchief is important, because if you ever come across someone crying, or someone wounded, you can lend them or give them your handkerchief, which is a very gentlemanly thing to do, and it can help you pass better, as well as it just being a kind thing to do for someone.

The pen and small notepad is always good to carry on you regardless of any gender, due to you needing to write things down often.

17. Ironically, although socks with sandals seems to be a fashion 'no-no' to most people, I quite like them, and it seems like I pass better with them.

Men tend to wear those slip-on flip flop things, and when you wear socks with it it makes you look very masculine, even if it may look silly to some.

Personally I like it a lot.

18. If you do wish to do makeup & nails, I would suggest doing it as black and gothic as possible, as that's the most common style guys do it as, and if you do it in a certain way, it can come out looking way masculine.

And that concludes my fifth part of this Trans Guy Tips series!

Thank you for reading, and I hope anything I said helped!

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 20 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 20

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, the Duke

Rating: PG-13

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter 20

Heisenberg pulled a clean undershirt from the tall, five-drawer chest next to the bed. You lay naked, your head in your hand and your elbow on the pillow. The sheets were pulled up over your breasts as you watched him put on his clothes. Despite lots of begging and pouting from you, Heisenberg had to attend to his metal army and continue his work of vengeance on Mother Miranda.

As much as you loved watching him remove his clothing, there was something equally arousing watching him put on his clothing. He stepped into his underwear and khaki pants, grabbing his belt and sliding it through the pant loops. He pulled the undershirt over his head and buttoned up the khaki shirt, tucking them both into his pants. The three items he always kept around his neck were next, followed by his hat. His sunglasses followed and lastly, his long overcoat. The ensemble was complete.

Heisenberg sat next to you on the edge of the bed, putting on his socks and boots. “I need to continue my work down in the lab, but I need supplies from the Duke. He’ll be here in a few hours. But time is of the essence and what I have to accomplish will take all day,” Heisenberg said. The last few days were less working in his factory and more fucking your brains out. He wasn’t complaining in the least, but he knew that lots of work still needed to be done and he wasn’t forgetting the inevitable clash between him and Miranda. The feeling in his gut was growing; the battle needed to be fought and he needed to vanquish her.

“Well, why don’t you give me a list and I can get everything from the Duke,” you offered as you sat up in bed, “and while I’m there, I would like to see if he can get any toiletries and other items I’m running low on…”

Heisenberg was quiet for a moment as he tied his boots. You could see him mulling over things in his head...whether or not he should let you go on this little excursion. Everything he needed were things that he had bought several times over, so he knew the Duke would know exactly what was on the list. But the worry of you running away was always in the back of his mind. He felt certain that with everything that had happened between you and him and the confession of love on both sides that you wouldn’t want to leave even if the opportunity presented itself. Heisenberg knew that you would get what was needed and return to the factory. But there was also the possibility of Mother Miranda snatching you the moment his back was turned. He would never forgive himself if she got her hooks into you and used you for one of her sick, delusional experiments in order to get Eva back.

In the end, he did trust you and he wanted to show you that trust.

“Okay, I’ll give you a list,” Heisenberg said, “just give it to the Duke and he’ll know exactly what I need. But the moment you are finished, march right back to the factory. Close and lock the doors and hit the red button to the right. It will signal an alarm and let me know that you are safe…”

“I promise,” you said.

Heisenberg smiled and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You lifted your hands to his face, moaning softly. The sheets fell into your lap, showing your tits to Heisenberg. A soft giggle lodged in your throat as he opened his eyes and looked down. He growled softly and broke the kiss.

“Such a cock tease,” he muttered playfully.

You chuckled as Heisenberg went to the table, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote his list of supplies.

The sliding double doors were heavy and it took a lot of your strength to push them open one by one. The biting cold air rushed through the doors and nearly took your breath away. It was cloudy and chilly. The wind gusted in the distance. You hadn’t been here that long, but long enough that you could tell snow wasn’t too far off. Zipping your oversized jacket and making sure your wool gloves were on your hands, you exited the factory and made your way to the gate.

The Duke was seated in the back of his carriage and waiting as always. You smiled and waved as you got closer to him. Heisenberg had opened the gates earlier before making his way down into the depths of his factory.

“Well, good morning, Y/N,” the Duke greeted, a smile on his face, “is it just you today? Is Lord Heisenberg not going to grace me with his presence?”

You shook your head, digging in your pants pocket for the list. “Not today. He’s busy and I told him I could get everything.”

“That’s fine with me...gives us some time to get to know one another…” he smiled. You stood on your tiptoes and handed the Duke the list. “Oh yes,” he said, looking over the items, “these are supplies that Lord Heisenberg is always in need of. I know them all very well.”

The Duke handed you a burlap sack and showed you all of the things that Heisenberg needed. One by one, you placed the items in the bag. You also looked around at things that might catch your eye. Thankfully, the Duke had toiletries and supplies that you needed. You placed them in the sack along with the rest.

“Duke,” you began, “I also wanted to see if you could help me with something. I wanted to do something nice for Karl. Do you have anything that he likes that he doesn’t always purchase? Maybe ingredients for a meal that he likes to splurge on from time to time?”

The Duke thought for a moment. “I do happen to know that Tochitura de Pui is one of his favorite dishes! I can’t remember the last time he bought ingredients for that meal. Here…” he handed you a rectangular piece of paper with ingredients and directions for preparation. The Duke went through the recipe and gave you all the products needed, giving you instructions on how to prepare it. “Also…” he added, “another thing he doesn’t splurge on often is Asbach Uralt! It’s a German brandy that his father and grandfather loved. Lord Heisenberg buys a bottle of this a few times a year. This would be a lovely surprise for him...and coming from you, it would make his day!”

He handed you the bottle of the alcohol and you inspected the writing. It was in German, of course, but it filled you with excitement. Heisenberg had cooked for you ever since he brought you to the factory. Aside from the occasional meals you fixed yourself when he was off working, it was always him cooking. You wanted to do this….to cater to him and make him happy with something he loved and would never see coming.

“Thank you so much for everything, Duke,” you said as you reached into your pockets, “I have some American currency, I hope you can use it or exchange it…”

“Not necessary,” he said, putting up his hand to stop you.

“Oh, please, take it,” you insisted, “you let me have that bracelet that I gifted to Salvatore. I insist you take this!”

“Y/N,” he began, “I am more than happy to help you free of charge. I do feel sorrow for the circumstances that brought you here. I can’t imagine how traumatic a plane crash is. But in the few times I have seen you here with Lord Heisenberg, I can sense a difference in him. For years, he has been unhappy. I assume he has told you what happened to him…”

You nodded your head.

“...then you know the horrors he has seen as a young child and growing up under the rule of Mother Miranda. It has hardened his mind and his heart. But since you have been here, I’ve noticed that icy exterior he has put up has slowly begun to melt. You are a kind woman, Y/N, and you two are good for each other. Consider these supplies as payment from me…”

You had to swallow the lump that formed in your throat. The kindness and generosity he has shown you had not gone unnoticed. Between him, Heisenberg, and Moreau, you have been lucky enough to see the small ounce of good this village had to offer.

“Thank you so much, Duke,” you said, “and if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know…”

The Duke smiled. “Of course, I will. Is there anything else you might need from me?”

“I think that’s it,” you smiled, holding the bottle of Asbach Uralt in one hand and pulling the hefty sack over your shoulder, “I’ll see you later! Goodbye!”

“Take care,” he said as you closed the gate behind you. He watched you walk up the path to the factory, making sure you were okay. Once inside, you gently placed the sack and the bottle on the ground and closed the sliding double doors, locking them securely. Lastly, you pressed the red button, alerting Heisenberg that you were safe and sound.

Heisenberg was pouring liquid metal into the press, making a cog for a broken machine. He smiled when he heard the alarm.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #resident evil heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #heisenberg #house heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil viii #lord heisenberg

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itsnsfwalways · 4 years

Text

tease

word count: 4.8k

description: where y/n has a little too much fun teasing harry on the dance floor.

warnings: daddy kink, slight mean dom! h, bdsm, smut, choking, collars, slight exhibition, humiliation, spitting, degradation, pet names, literally just pure filth

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You knew what you were doing. The extra hair shakes, body rolls, and lip bites dancing with your friends were unnecessary, and caused Harry to have to fix his pants multiple times while he watched you.

The last straw for Harry came when you began touching yourself over your dress, nipples poking through the expensive fabric. Harry knew you were enjoying the attention a bit too much, the little exhibitionist.

During a break between songs where you and your friends come back to the table for water, Harry pulled you into his lap, arm wrapping around you tightly. His lips go to your ear, nipping the lobe lightly before whispering,

"No talking once we leave here. When we get home you are to immediately go to the bedroom, strip, and wait."

Your heart stops for a second, before nodding adamantly and shakily inhaling. Harry takes notice of the way her hands tremble the next time she reaches for her glass, and he smirks. She has no idea what is in store for her.

You didn’t even want to be here at this point. Harry looked too fucking edible tonight. He chose to wear a deep royal blue fitted suit with white boots for no reason other than to make you sweat even more than he normally does. The way he’s sitting in the booth, conversing lightly with your friends’ partners and his security, but constantly having an eye on you. How he spreads his legs at all times wide enough so you’re able to slip between them whenever you want. How his hair has been growing out and it’s the perfect length to gather between your fingers and yank.

Finally, you are able to make a hasty goodbye, faking an early morning. You make a point to hug all of your friends, before finally making it back to Harry’s car.

Remembering the rules, your lips stay sealed. Your mind can’t help but wander so your fingers start picking at the ends of your dress before Harry notices, grabs one in his hand, and kisses a knuckle lightly. His thumb rubs the back of your hand, knowing that it’s been a while since you last did a scene and you’re a little nervous. His hand remains holding yours as you begin the drive back home, easily calming your anxiety.

Harry parks in the driveway and gets out of the car, coming around to your door.

“Shocker you could even remember to let me open your door, pet. Doesn’t seem like you care too much for your rules.” Harry tuts.

You swallow, nails digging into your palms to keep you from apologizing.

He takes your hand in his, delicately helping you out of the car. Guiding you with a hand on your low back to the front door, he pushes you in front of him lightly when he notices you shiver from the night air.

As soon as he unlocks the door, you take off your shoes, place them in the shoe rack by the door, and walk quickly into the bedroom.

Your mind still going a million miles a minute, you go the bathroom before stripping of your clothes and putting them in the hamper, making a mental note to do laundry tomorrow.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, your legs can’t help but tremble with excitement and nerves, a pool already forming between your legs. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what he is about to do to you.

About ten minutes go by before you hear the click of the door and you quickly try to fix any mistakes that you may have made in your posture while waiting for Harry. Keeping your head down, your hair flowing over your face, you hear footsteps approach the middle of the room.

Harry circles you a few times, before grasping your chin between his fingers and pulling your face up to look him in the eyes, a gasp emitting from your lips.

Your eyes are already so glassy and doll-like, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red and just asking to be touched. Harry can't resist lovingly tucking a strand of hair behind your ears and giving you a short, sweet kiss on the lips before squeezing lightly on the chin still in his grasp.

"Do you know why you are in this position?"

You gulp and nod, remembering Harry‘s rule.

"Good girl. You may speak," Harry says, the praise making your stomach tighten and legs twitch.

"Thank you, Sir. I was being overly sexual and touching myself in public, Sir," You mewl out, incredibly turned on by the power exchange.

"Yeah, you were, weren't you?" Harry coos, voice mocking you and dripping with sarcasm. “Always have to have all eyes on you, have to have all the attention.”

Harry takes your chin and makes you nod your head exaggeratively at his words, mouth parting open as you stare directly in his eyes.

You can’t even breathe at this point. You had to be dripping onto the floor, but you can’t even focus on that right now. All you feel is harryharryharry.

His fingers move from your chin down to your throat, squeezing ever so lightly. Snapping out of it, you realize you never answered his question.

"Y-yes, Sir. I love the attention," You fumble out, the pressure on you throat making you almost dizzy with need.

“Do I not give you enough?” Harry asks, looking you directly in your eyes as he says this.

Your heart breaks a little at the look on his face and whimper out, “No, no, give me so much attention.”

“What? You just want more? You’re just a little slut who can never have enough, huh?” Harry says, hand leaving your throat and striking across your face once, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. The sting that lingers is deliciously warm. The pink handprint contrasts your skin for just a moment and you almost moan at the thought.

“Yes, Daddy, I’m your little slut.”

Harry’s eyes close at this, teeth biting his lower lips as he exhales sharply. Fuck, how does he deserve this. His cock twitches and he lightly moves a hand down to squeeze it slightly, catching your eyes following him.

He squats down, the contrast of his full suit and muscular body to your small frame making your head spin. “I think you’ve forgotten just who the fuck you’re dating, Y/N.”

His right hand grabs your cheeks, rings scratching your jaw lightly, before squishing them together. Taking the hint, you open up your mouth, sticking your tongue out as he spits directly onto it.

Your eyes slip close, head tilting back lightly. Yes, yes, yes, this is exactly what you needed. To be disrespected and treated like a doll, to be used like this. Your pussy clenched around nothing, hips fighting against grinding on the floor.

Harry catches onto this, laughing at you.

“Oh, puppy. Are you really that worked up over me spitting on you?” He questions, laughing. The humiliation colors your face pink before he lets your cheeks go, leaving his thumb resting on your bottom lip. Pushing down lightly, he leans forward slightly over you, keeping that pretty red mouth open and waiting for him.

A long line of spit falls the short distance from his mouth into yours, this time a whimper escapes you as soon as you feel it pool onto your tongue. He was giving you himself, he was giving you everything you needed.

This time, your hips do buck up, but Harry puts a stop to that immediately. In a matter of seconds, his hips are pinned to yours on the rug, your wrists locked above his head in one of his hands while the other continues to touch your mouth.

His thumb plays with your bottom row of teeth, lightly tracing them, before hooking onto your jaw and pulling you closer up to him.

He presses a teasing kiss to your panting mouth, whispering,

“I don’t know if you deserve my cock, Y/N. You were a nasty thing out there tonight, would’ve let anyone get behind you and have their way with you.” This was a lie. Harry would be damned if he didn’t fuck you tonight, and you knew this. But god did it make it so much hotter when he talked to you like this.

“No, Daddy, all yours, I’m yours, please,” You beg, trying to lean in to kiss him.

Harry places his thumb back in your mouth and pushes down slightly on your tongue, gagging you. Your eyes water as you try and suppress it and suck his thumb deeper into your mouth.

He has a look on his eyes you’ve only seen Daddy have, a look that shakes you down to the very core of your being. He’s mad.

“You will take what I give you. Filthy fucking slut always getting her way. On the bed, head on the pillows, arms above your head and legs splayed out," he commands. You scramble off the ground to get into the position he wanted on the plush bed.

Harry had to remind himself to breathe in situations like this. Not because he was really that angry about you showing off or trying to kiss him, obviously he loved the attention as well and you both knew it was just to set the other person off. But because of how ethereal you looked. Hair splayed out on the pillow, miles and miles of beautiful bare skin, completely open and vulnerable and his to use. That power trip made his head spin almost as much as yours did.

Stripping himself of his suit, he leaves his white tank top and black briefs on, silver cross necklace dangling between his swallows. Grabbing some velcro straps, handcuffs, and one of his ties, just in case, he makes his way over to you.

“Are you going to listen to me, pet? I’d hate for you to not be able to touch me,” Harry fake pouts, laughing at you when you push your hands and feet deeper into then mattress. Sliding himself between your legs, he leaves a few inches of space between your aching clit and his bulge, your head falling back as you realize what’s about to happen.

Harry lightly moves his fingers down your chest, watching your breathing pick up. Goosebumps follow his movements, but you try your best to fight against arching your back into him. One hand finds a nipple and lightly teases the bud, playing with it using an index finger while his other scratches up and down your sides lightly.

"Because of that little stunt of yours, I think you deserve to be teased, don't you?" Harry rhetorically asks, pinching your nipple harshly at the last words.

You moan out and buck your hips before you’re able to spit out,

"Yes, Sir, whatever you think."

"I quite like the sound of that, whatever I think. Who's in charge here, darling? Why don’t you remind Daddy?"

He stares you directly in the eyes while saying this, a mocking confused look on his face.

“Y-You are, Daddy, you’re always in charge."

“Mm. That’s right. So you’re not just a dumb little plaything after all.”

Not even giving you time to think, Harry slips two fingers into your open mouth, allowing you to start going to work on wetting his fingers.

While you calmed down sucking on his fingers, Harry could barely fucking look at you. Licking his two fingers like your life depended on it, gagging and not even allowing yourself time to breathe before continuing on wetting them. He tests this theory, waiting for you to take a breath in before pinching your nose and pushing down ever so lightly on your tongue with his two fingers. Holding his breath in time with you, he slowly counts to five in his head before releasing your nose and pulling his fingers out of your mouth, allowing you to lick up the line of spit hanging between the two.

“Fuck, so good for me. There’s my doll.”

Gasping and eyes watering, your head chases his fingers for a second before his other hand grabs you by the throat and pushes you into the mattress. His fingers wrap around it almost completely, and you can feel him shaking with need. Eyes rolling into the back of your head as you swallow against him, he smacks you lightly to bring you back.

“Eyes up here. Don’t make me remind you again.”

Removing his hand, he trails down your stomach, scratching lightly on the sensitive skin. When he reaches your inner thigh, he pulls back his hand and slaps the skin, a loud noise filling the room.

Y/N chokes on a gasp and whimpers out,

“Collar, please, collar."

Harry smirks and removes his hand, going through their bag again and coming out with a thick leather collar, a strap attached to it.

Clipping it on the squirming submissive, he slides two fingers into the ring and tugs harshly, thriving off of the angelic noises emanating from his girl.

“‘S that better, puppy? Need to feel owned, huh?” He coos, tightening the leather around your neck.

“Yes, sir,” You exhale, swallowing thickly to feel the pressure against your throat.

“Thought so.” He whispered, letting go of the collar and moving to sit between your legs.

Your breath hitches as he starts lying kisses against your ribs.

“You better keep your hands and legs where they are, Y/N. Don’t make me have to keep you tied up.”

His words are in one ear out the other at this point, attention focusing on the way his lips move when he talks, how his rings send shivers up your thighs and directly into your core.

Harry scoots downwards on the bed, breath fanning against you as you force yourself not to buck up.

“Fuck, baby, you’re absolutely dripping,” Harry groans, tongue ever so lightly poking out to taste you.

“Please Daddy, please, please, I’ll be so good,” You cry out, just wanting to feel him.

He grins up at you, pressing a kiss lightly to the side of your lips, moving outwards to suck a bruise into the juncture of your hip and thigh.

A groan of frustration leaves you as your legs start shaking, clenching around nothing and barely breathing at this point.

A smack against your right ass cheek forces you to inhale, focusing on Harry once more.

“None of that. Tell me, who is in charge?”

“You are.” Another smack lands on you, same placement as before.

“Who decides what you receive?”

“You do, Daddy.” Another. This time on your left side, a whimper escaping as you arch your back into it.

"Your safewords are?"

You are quick to respond, spitting out,

"Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green is good."

"What's your color?"

"Green, so green, please, Daddy, please," you blubber, making Harry shush you softly.

Harry leans forward this time, fingers going into the D ring again. Leaning directly over you, hair falling into your eyes, he whispers, “Who’s my little fucktoy?”

“Fuck, Daddy, I am. Please. I’ll be such a good girl.”

“You will, won’t you? Because Daddy just likes to give in to whatever his babygirl wants, yeah? No, not tonight, baby.”

He gets off of you all of a sudden, standing up and going to sit in the large leather chair in the corner of the room.

You lay there dumbfounded until he says, “Well? Come here and kneel in front of me.”

Rolling off the bed on shaky legs, you crawl over to him, and god help him if that image ever left his mind.

You sit between his legs, hands neatly folded in your lap as you stare directly at his crotch, the outline of him very present.

“Up.” Harry commands, and your eyes snap to his face uncontrollably, your body seeming to answer faster than your brain could.

“Aren’t you just a pretty little puppy? Crawling over to come help your Daddy out, hmm?”

He leans forward, and you think he’s about to kiss you before you feel his spit land on your cheek.

His fingers move the saliva into your mouth, eyes locked on yours as he says, “Well go on, get me out.”

You whimper softly before trailing your hands along his happy trail, snapping the waistband against his skin lightly, before grabbing onto the briefs a and pulling them down his legs. Your mouth drops automatically as his cock pops up and slaps him in the stomach.

Harry had the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Not only was it fucking huge, it was so thick, filled you up to the point where you could see him through your stomach, and fuck did that turn the both of you on. His mushroom tip was a bright red, slightly damp with his precum, and the few veins you loved to lick already popping up.

You looked up at him again, hands massaging his thighs as you asked,

“Can I please suck you off, Daddy?”

“That’s all your good for isn’t it? Let me use that pretty mouth, doll face.”

Your tongue falls out immediately, licking the underside of his head, before taking the tip in your mouth and lightly suckling on it, eyes glued to Harry’s.

“Fuck, princess. Go on, get me all nice and wet for you.”

Your tongue immediately starts to lick him from base to tip, making sure to point your tongue and follow along the bulging veins going up his shaft. You spend extra time giving him the lightest of kitten licks at his top, knowing how mad that drove him.

“Fucking hell, baby. God, Y/N, so fucking good for me,” Harry groans, head leaning back against the chair for support.

His hips start to lightly buck up until your mouth, and you reach your nails up to scratch his laurels, knowing that little bite of pain was only adding fuel to the fire.

He takes your hair in his fist, wrapping it around his knuckles once before pulling you down onto his cock, the gagging noise you made making him that much harder.

“What a good little slut,” He groans, punctuating his words with a thrust into your mouth.

“Arms back,” He orders, and you immediately put your arms behind your back, wrists grabbing your elbows.

You hollow out your cheekbones and Harry just about dies in his chair, hand reaching up to squish your cheeks together even more, feeling himself in your mouth from the outside.

He lets out a guttural moan, the sound going straight to your clit. Your hips buck up to try and get some friction, and Harry notices immediately, pulling you off him. Letting out large pants, you lean forward, eager to have him back in your mouth, but a quick slap to the face stuns you for a few seconds, slightly slipping into that fuzzy space you sometimes get to.

“None of that. Yes?”

“Yes, yes sir, please let me have you, please,” You gasp out spit dripping from your mouth onto your thighs, eyes red rimmed and tear tracks running down your face.

Harry can’t say no to you looking like that. He feeds his tip back to you lightly, only allowing you to take half of him in your mouth.

“Eyes up.” He pauses to wait for you to look at him, a whimper from you sending vibrations through his cock.

“Aren’t you just a gorgeous little puppy for me, hmm? Doing just what Daddy tells her to.”

You whimper loudly around him, thighs shaking as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Fuck,” Harry laughs. “Are you that desperate to cum that you could get off just from me talking to you?”

You look up at him and nod, knowing he has before.

Before you can even think, Harry has picked you up and sat you on his lap with your back facing him, his cock rubbing against your folds.

“Fuck,” Harry drawls our, “You’re dripping, baby. What a good girl you’ve been so far, letting Daddy do what he wants.”

You can’t help but try and grind against him, head falling onto his chest as you cry out,

“Please Daddy, please fuck me. I’ve been so good, please.”

He reaches an arm around and brings a hand to your throat, holding your neck against him, while the other goes around and splays his hand on your stomach, pinning you to his chest.

This was one of Harry’s favorite positions. You couldn’t do anything but just take what he was giving you, completely give yourself up to him and let him use you.

“Have you? I don’t know about that, moppet.” His left arm trails down your stomach before going down and beginning to lightly play with your clit, tracing the lightest of circles directly on top of it.

“Fuck, thank you daddy, thank you, thank you.” He gasp out, arms gripping the edges of the chair.

He moves his middle finger down to dip into you slightly, collecting your moisture on the tip of his finger and pulling it up to his mouth, licking it clean off. He tilts your head to the side, giving you a filthy open mouthed kiss, all tongue and heavy breathing, Harry feeling as if he’s fucking you with his mouth right now.

All of a sudden, he pinches your clit harshly, a shocked gasp escaping you as he begins rubbing quickly, legs immediately starting to quiver on top of him.

Pulling your neck back farther, he growls into your ear,

“If you want me to even touch you for the rest of the night, you will cum right now. Right fucking now. Cum on my fucking fingers.”

A high pitched moan leaves you as you hopelessly grind down on him, cumming as soon as he says the word. Your chest heaves as he works you through your orgasm.

“There’s my good little slut. Finally following orders, huh?” Harry gasps out, thighs flexing with restraint.

“Yes, sir,” You cry out, feeling his tip press against your entrance.

He lifts you up by your hips before slamming you down onto him, taking him to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You scream, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you immediately start rocking your hips back and forth, the pressure on your clit almost unbearable.

Harry moves his hand from your throat onto the D ring, fingering the loop and pulling it in time with his thrusts, the pressure making your head swarm and feel as if you’re in a dream.

“Needy girl,” he grits into your ear, fucking up into you at a slow, steady pace.

“Only for you, Daddy,” you cry, turning your head to the side to suck a mark into Harry’s neck.

You feel the vibrations from his moan against your tongue and you whimper slightly, his thrusts starting to fill you up more and more.

“You’re so tight for me, fuck, puppy, all for me, yeah?”

“All for you, God you’re so big,” You moan out, keeping your face in his neck to focus on breathing.

His cock fits so snugly inside of you, it truly feels as if you were made for each other. With another thrust, he hits a spot inside of you the two of you are far too familiar with, a sharp cry ripping itself from your vocal chords as he begins mercilessly fucking up into you.

Pulling the ring forward, Harry forces your eyes to the ceiling, other hand reaching down to rub your clit.

“I’ll show you what a little attention whore deserves. I’ll treat you like the dirty slut you are, only here to please ME, aren’t you? I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this, who gets to fuck you like this, til you’re just a dumb little puppy.”

You begin to thrash on him, shaking with the need to come that he releases his grip on your throat to hold you in place against him. In doing so, he presses on your stomach and you scream, crying out and vision going black for a second.

“Fuck, you like that, baby? That I’m so deep inside you can feel me in your little tummy. Reminds you that you’re my cum slut, just wants to be filled by her Daddy.”

“Daddy, please,” You gasp out, hands going around to wrap around his neck, whole body shaking.

“Please can I cum, please, please,” You gasp, unable to do anything but have a vice grip on him while you try not to come.

Harry leans down and bites on your neck, groaning loudly right on your pulse point as he fucks faster into you, hitting your G-spot every single time.

“You’re so fucking tight around me, goddamn babygirl, fuck, cum. Cum right now.”

He slaps your clit harshly, left hand going back to tighten around your throat, tilting your head up and spitting into your mouth. The majority of it ends up on your cheek and you cum.

Fuck, do you cum. Your body feels like it’s not even yours at this point, pleasure flooding every single particle in your body, mind going blank as you loll your head back onto his chest. Your legs shake so much you feel as if you are vibrating head to toe, tits bouncing freely and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room.

Harry has never seen you like this, grinding so quickly on his cock, throat tilted back making the most primal of sounds.

He pistons his hips and cums shortly after you, releasing a deep groan into your ear.

Your body goes limp around him, but continuing to clench around him, tiny gasps coming from your parted lips.

Harry pulls his head off the back of the chair and grabs your face to get a good look at you.

Hair messy, mascara everywhere, eyes rolled into the back of your head with spit covering your chin, you looked like an angel.

“Fuck, princess,” Harry moans, thrusting lightly inside of you.

You whimper lightly at his movement and he takes the hint, pulling out. Turning you around to face him, he lifts you up and places you softly on the bed, a cool towel already on the nightstand ready.

He takes his time wiping you down, starting at your face and making his way to your aching pussy, lightly patting the area.

He glances up at your facial expressions, and upon seeing a blissful smile, licks into you, tongue gliding against your walls.

Harry tastes himself on you and groans into you, taking his time making you cum once more, before coming to lay down next to you, wiping his face off.

“What a good girl you were, so good for me, weren’t you Y/N?” He whispers, lightly stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.

This was the closest thing to heaven you were ever going to get. You felt like you were on cloud nine, body buzzing with adrenaline and brain feeling like mush. Harry was so good at taking care of you in this state, and that made you want to come to more than anything else.

While Harry lightly kisses your parted lips, cheeks, and forehead, your head nuzzles into his hand, eyes fluttering a little bit.

“Hi sweet girl,” He smiles, eyes full of nothing but adoration and love. He idolized you. He worshipped

you.

“Hi Daddy,” you mumble, pursing your lips for a kiss.

He happily obliges, kissing you very sweetly, knowing you were very sensitive right now.

“Do you need anything? Wanna take a nice warm bath, baby?” Harry asks, nuzzling his nose with yours, his playfulness causing you to finally open your eyes fully.

“Hug?” you mumble, and Harry let’s out all of his air at your simple question.

“Of course, little one. C’mere, we’ll have a nice long snuggle and then we go pee and clean up.”

He pulls you under the covers with him, wrapping his arms fully around you so you’re being pushed against his chest, his head resting on yours.

You kiss lightly along his neck, just trying to calm down from what just happened.

“How you feeling, lover? Awfully quiet in m’ arms,” Harry questions, kissing the top of your head and adjusting you to look up at him.

“So good. Just a lot. I’m sorry for doing that tonight. Just wanted you.” You mumble, fingers playing with your hair.

“Hey, none of that, it’s okay Y/N. I was trying to rile you up too. Why’d I wear one of my suits out on a night off?”

Your nose scrunches and you bite his pec lightly, Harry releases a loud laugh at this.

The two of you lay there just holding each other for quite a bit before you mumble out,

“Bath time?”

Harry smiles at you, kissing your forehead for a few seconds.

“‘Course. Let’s go hop in.”

—————

A/N ahhhhh okay hi i’m lana this is my first tumblr smut kinda thing, i hope you like it !!! i’m super new to this so please be patient, but i’d love some requests !!! long fics, one shots, blurbs, i’m down for it all. also love mgg, criminal minds, and a whole lotta other fandoms so i’m opening to writing those too.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #daddy harry styles #mean dom h #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #dom harry styles #choking

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

Mine - Jesper Fahey

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader Word: Mine Warnings: none Words: 412 A/N: this piece is part of my 800 followers celebration

You haven’t been in a relationship with Jesper for long, and the both of you are still figuring out what works and what doesn’t. Still, you couldn’t be happier.

After you stay over in his room for the first time, you wake up and realise you haven’t brought any of your clothes with you. Yesterday’s clothes are in the laundry room, two floors down.

Making sure Jesper is still fast asleep, you get one of his shirts out of his closet. Given that Jesper is a lot taller than you, the hem of the shirt falls halfway down your thighs.

Praying no one would be awake to see you, you open the door and head for your own room. You quickly grab an outfit and make your way back to Jesper’s room.

When you get back, you close the door as quietly as possible. But when you turn around, you find Jesper awake, looking at you with a soft smile on his face.

‘Is that mine?’ he says.

You look down at your body. ‘Yeah.’ you say. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I forgot to bring a set of clean clothing, so I just put on one of your shirts. I'll change though, so you can have it back.’

‘Don’t bother.’ says Jesper as you walk up to him. ‘It looks good on you.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want it back?’ you say.

As an answer, Jesper reaches out and snatches your own shirt out of your hands. He tucks it under his pillow and lays down again.

‘There. Good luck getting that back, I'm not getting up.’ he says.

You smile as you start to pull on your pants and boots. After lacing up your boots, you get up and move toward the door.

‘Where are you going?’ asks Jesper from his position on the bed.

‘Downstairs to get coffee.’ you say, looking at him over your shoulder.

He grins. ‘In my shirt.’ he says.

‘Yes, Jesper, in your shirt. Because you are currently making it impossible for me to go and get my own.’ you say.

‘You know you could just easily go to your own room and get a shirt, right?’ says Jesper.

‘And walk even more stairs? No thanks.’ you say. ‘Besides, yours is way more comfortable.’

‘You look great, by the way!’ you hear Jesper yell as you step out into the hallway. ‘Absolutely stunning!’ he yells, making you smile as you walk down the stairs.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#love the fact that leigh made sure jesper is tall 😌 peak character trait #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #grisahverse #Jesper Fahey x reader #jesper fahey fanfiction #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey fanfics #jesper fahey fic #jesper fahey fics #jesper fahey blurb #jesper fahey blurbs #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone blurb #shadow and bone blurbs

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merakiclosed · 4 years

Text

Princess of the tower

》Pairing: Thief!Jungkook x Princess!reader 》Summary: The thief of the town who goes by the name of JK finds the lost princess but didn’t expect to fall in love with her along the way. 》Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, Disney!au/Fantasy!au , Strangers to lovers!au, Tangled!au (2010) 》Word count: 7k 》Notes/Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, manipulation, long-haired Kook because that’s a danger in its self.

The sky looked like a fresh blend of colours brushed onto a canvas. Pomegranate pink and papaya orange teased each other, daring to touch but not completely mixing. You’re tempted to close the shutters and go to bed, tiredness pulling at your being. But you were defiant, what good would tomorrow bring? It would be like any other day; clean up, read, paint, sing, cook.

Pascal sleeps on your shoulder when you look down, unconsciously he matches with the sun, his normal green scales changing golden. Sighing, you move your gaze to watch the silhouette of birds fly past, wishing to be as free as them. Reaching out, you touch the plants that wind around the tower, almost crying out to be touched and held as you caress the soft ridges with your fingers.

Finally, you stand up straight and brush the imaginary dust off your purple dress, the silk smooth on your skin. You can remember vividly the day that you made this with your own hands, sewing and cutting material for hours because you grew out of your previous one. Unfortunately, this was the cheapest material your mother could get you, meaning that all of your dresses looked similar. You were dying to get out of the tower and get some more material, experimenting and trying on different styles and colours. But that would never happen. You weren’t allowed out of the tower. It was mother’s number one rule, not under any circumstances were you to step foot outside of this tower.

Your bare feet echo in the empty room as you descend to your bedroom. Along the staircase you run your hands along the carvings that were like a tale of a story that was long forgotten, remembering the day you spent on the hard work. Were you 15 at the time? Maybe, the days are all forged together.

Carefully, you set Pascal down on one of the pillows as you flop down beside him, trying to not wake him up. Gazing up at the roof, you find the multiple paintings you did, filled with flowers, birds and butterflies, thinking when your life will truly begin.

Your hand moves along the wall, almost like your mind is directing it without you. You never think too much whilst painting, it’s where you see the reflection of your own imagination and mind. Every colour is bold and painted with precise lines, curved yet defined. Small dots of gold contrast with the deep blue of the background, representing the floating lights. The same ones that you know will appear tomorrow night, on your birthday. You could only hope and wish that this year, your mother allows you to go see them.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar echo of shoes on the stairwell causing you to shove the paint palette down and draw the curtains to hide the painting. Quickly, you get down from the fireplace, getting ready to greet her as the chain and lock sound heavy against the door.

“My precious daughter.” she cooes, pinching your cheeks making you wince slightly.

“Mother -”

“Would you let your mother brush your hair whilst you sing dear?” she interrupts you. Instantly you’re moving around, grabbing a chair and the brush, rushing to sit her down.

As soon as she is sat down you put a pillow on the floor to sit on, singing the song as fast as you can. Your hair reached the bottom of your bum, thick and tangled from having a busy day, though you don’t wince or groan when she pulls at a knot, too excited and nervous to ask a question. Behind your closed eyes, you briefly see the glow of your hair along with a Zapp at how fast the magic worked.

“Y/N -” mother begins to scold, but you couldn’t care less.

“Mother, I was thinking about what I want for my birthday. Wou- would I b-be able to go outside. To see the floating lights?” Your once confident voice trails off with uncertainty, “They only appear on my birthday and I need to know what they are” you plead, moving to show her the painting you did today, behind the closed curtains. But your grip quickly loosens when you hear her next words.

“Y/n. You want to go outside? You know why we stay in the tower, trust me mother knows best.” She says firmly, standing up towering over you. Her eyes are as dark as her hair as she looks unimpressed, “there are many bad guys out there, diseases that can wipe you out. You know what they do to bright things in the world. They eat them up.”

“You don’t ever ask to go out of this tower ever again.” she finalises, pulling at your dress harshly, “do you understand?” Her gaze is firm and hard making you nod your head meekly. Though, she wanted more than that as she grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head to look her in the eye, “Yes mother I understand.” She beams at you and kisses your cheek. Grabbing the keys, she heads for the door and with another kiss to your head along with a quick I love you, she’s gone again.

Not soon after you could hear laboured breathing coming from the door, the person bangs against the door, followed by a groan. Frantically, you look at Pascal who also has wide eyes, who then points to the frying pan, “Pascal you’re a genius” you whisper. You run behind the door, continuously hearing the stranger try and break the door, making it rattle and echo throughout the room. Any moment now and he’ll end up-

The door breaks off its hinges, the chain now scraping across the ground. It’s silent for a moment as you watch the man look around, failing to look behind him. “OW.SHIT” He shouts when you hit him in the leg with the frying pan, he whips around to look at you. Your mother’s voice sounds in your head of the hideous men with sharp teeth and ill intentions. But this man in front of you was nothing like that. His white shirt was dirty and rolled up to his elbows as underneath was a blue vest, wheat-like string buttoning it together. Brown pants are tucked into brown, leather boots that have clearly been worn for a long time as they are scuffed with mud splattered on them. When your eyes finally land on the satchel in his hand, he moves it closer to himself protectively, interesting.

Like deja vu, you hear another step of footsteps and instantly you know who it is. You and the strange man look at each other wide-eyed and shove him under the stairs, where the kitchen is and hide him behind the curtain. The man stumbles from your push as you take the opportunity to take the satchel out of his hands. Luckily, your mother only gets halfway before she decides to shout, “Y/n, did you want me to get the paint from the beach?” you know that she is doing this so that you don’t talk about going out of the tower, “Yes, mother.” And she’s gone, once again, thankful that you didn’t have to explain why the door was broken.

Cautiously, you creep towards the kitchen, coming face to face with the man, frying pan at the ready in one hand, the satchel in the other. You both looked at each other, he was young, possibly around your age judging by his face. His eyes were deer-like, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness in them, slightly round cheeks but sharp jaw and eyebrows as his black hair slightly hung in front of his eyes, obvious that he hasn’t had it cut in a while. His eyes scan your figure, wanting to roll his eyes, you look innocent and scared. It was obvious that if he shouted at you right now, you would cower. However, he notices the satchel in your hand, “that’s mine, give it back.”

Shaking your head, you hold it closer to you, “No. why are you here?” you foreign confidence when in reality you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your chest. He wasn’t threatened as his face showed confusion, making his nose scrunch up, “Is that all of your hair?”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “Do you want my hair, is that why you are here? How did you find me?” you accuse, trying to sound threatening.

“I don’t want your hair, I want to get out of here. Now, give me my satchel.” You were shocked by his firm and deep voice as he hardened his gaze on you. Neither of you said anything, his ice-cold stare not wavering as you came up with an idea.

“No. I won’t give you the satchel until you take me to see the floating lights tomorrow night. You will take me there and in return, you’ll get your satchel.”

“That’s it? You want to see the lanterns?” he sounds bored. Well, he shouldn’t have broken your door! You unconsciously pout and nod, “Yes.”

“So, is this a deal then?” he says, cocking his eyebrow. This will be easy.

“Yes.”

“Well let’s get going then”

The words make you pause, you’ll be leaving the tower. Without your mother’s permission. It was against the rules. What if she comes back early. No, you can’t think of that. You either leave the tower now or stay and never be able to see the outside world, “well what are you doing just standing there princess, let’s get moving.”

Feet firmly planted, you look up to the sky that is bright but soft all at once, it looks bigger from down here, reminding you how small you are in a big world. Looking back, you see the plants that have grown thick on the tower, stone of grey peeking out as rigid pieces crumble to the floor. The grass is soft on your feet as you timidly take a step forward, the bottom of your dress soaking up the morning dew as you bend down to pick out a flower. The petals are vibrant and proud as you softly brush your finger along the soft texture. Your hair flows behind you in the grass, but you don’t care. Pascal takes in a big, deep breath of the fresh air, peering over at the young man. He doesn’t trust him.

The man looks at you unimpressed, but in reality, he finds it quite endearing as you look around. The scenery was normal to him, but watching you appreciate all of the little details makes him think more about taking things for granted. But he can’t think like that. He needs to leave you - somewhere safe of course- and run. All he has to do is steal the satchel from you when you sleep and then he will be on his way. He strolls up to you and plucks the flower out of your hand, causing you to pout, but soon turns into a shy smile once he places it in your hair, next to your ear. Firstly, he has to gain your trust.

Walking away, he hears your feet pad on the ground before you walk next to him, “So, princess what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You say softly, looking up at him, he mulls over what to say before talking, “Mine’s Jk.”

Now fully in the forest, you take it all in. Trees that you once looked over, towered over you causing you to smile like a kid in the candy store, they were bigger than you imagined. You gasped at the sight of a bunny, running over to it, the motion causing it to squeak and hop away. Subconsciously you frown with a pout prominent on your face, you only wanted to pet it, the fur looked so soft! JK looks over at you, cocking his head to the side. How strange and innocent you were, shrugging it off he walks off, wanting to get this over and done with.

“Hey - wait up.”

The woman trudges up the stairs, huffing with every step, her shoes clacking against the stone. She can sense that something is wrong, the echoing doesn’t sound as harsh to her eardrums as before. Thoughts of something getting to her precious prize, causing her to fasten her steps before she abruptly stops, two steps before the top. The wooden door lays on the floor, pieces of wood aloof. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, adrenaline rushing through her as she shouts out, trying to find her. Pots and pans on the floor, material is thrown all over. Nothing.

As she lays on the cold, hardwood floor, she thinks about all of the possibilities of what could have happened. She can’t lay around all day, she has to do something. Standing up, she pulls her black cloak over her head as her blood-red dress dances against the door, her boots crushing the debris. She will do whatever it takes to get her back.

You walked until it was dark, the atmosphere between you both was awkward for the full day, asking him questions but only getting either one-word responses or gestures of yes or no. Goosebumps appear on your arms from the evening chill as crickets start to sing in the swaying grass.

“I’ll get some firewood, stay here.” He commands, not waiting for an answer as he walks off into the woods. The green canopy almost looks black, drained of colour almost like it was muted under the artist’s hand. Every noise and russell from the bushes makes you jump, you’ve practically been alone for most of your life, but you were surrounded by the tower walls. You’re vulnerable under the moon that shines in the night. It was a weird experience, you’ve seen the nightfall and the sunrise, yet witnessing it outside was so much more magical. You only wish that your companion would be better, but at least Pascal is with you, though he isn’t much help as you look over to find him knocked out on the edge of the branch that you’re sat on. The familiar crunch of boots makes you gaze up at the man, his biceps bulging in the shirt that he wears.

The fire crackles as soon as he has light it, you watch him silently as he tears a bit of his shirt off to stop the bleeding of a scrape on his arm. Maybe, you can get him to talk if you become closer. Wordlessly, you scoot over to him and reach out softly to stop him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows wondering what you were doing. Winding some hair around the cut, he hisses as your small hands press harder onto his forearm, with a cautious gaze you look up at him, “Please don’t be scared.” The vulnerability in your voice is evident as he looks at you skeptically.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”

Jungkook watches you as if you were crazy, but confusion knocks into him once he feels a tingle in his arm, looking as your hair starts to glow. Staring at your face, the light illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed firmly, he observes the silent features on your face that draws him closer to you, you look so young, yet so worn out. Watching as delicate lips sing the song.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine.”

What and why were you in that tower?

Opening your eyes, he’s taken out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. Meekly, you look up at him as you unwrap your hair from his arm, the cut no longer there. You wait anxiously at what he will do next. You haven’t shown anyone other than your mother that.

“H-how long has your -uh. Magical Uhm. Hair been doing that?” He coughs when his voice cracks, not wanting to show how scared he actually feels.

“Forever. Something like this” You gesture to your hair, “has to be protected, that’s why my mother - why I never left the tower.” Your voice trails off at the end, still uncertain about what he is thinking.

His thoughts are running wild. He’s sitting there, in the middle of the night, with a girl who has magical hair. Is this a dream? Something like this doesn’t happen, maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe the guards have already taken him and this is all some sort of hallucination. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you twiddle your thumbs, waiting anxiously. He had a perfect plan for tonight, wait until you fall asleep, take the satchel and run. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long, yet he doesn’t think he can do it. If someone gets to you, you’re a goner. And for some reason, it makes his gut twist at the thought of you in danger, especially after you showed him your little trick. People like him, eat people like you for dinner. He yearns to know everything about you already, but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do it. He’s not a good person and you don’t deserve that.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?” You look up at him quizzically.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

You gaze up into his deep, marble eyes where you could see tales - most likely fascinating, secrets and stories that he’s held up in his head for years. He was far more interesting than you, that’s for sure.

“How did you find the tower?” You questioned, averting your eyes to pascal as he sleeps peacefully.

“I ran, I didn’t plan the journey to the tower, I just ended up there.” He says with a humourless laugh, thinking about how he had run away from the guards at the palace, then proceeding to ditch the two others. His eyes unconsciously flicking to the satchel around your shoulder. Was all of this worth it?

You nod at him, not knowing what to say, you want to know what he was running from, why he never gave you his real name from the start, why he was so desperate to get the satchel. You had so many questions for people outside of the tower, but now sitting in front of him, Jungkook, your mind runs blank. Yawning, you rub your eyes, but you’re fearful of sleeping outside. Will someone attack you? Will it rain? What if a giant creature comes and gets you?

“Easy there, princess. I can see your head about to blow smoke from how hard you’re thinking.” Jungkook said in a small voice, presumably not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night. Laying down, pieces of wood stabbed your side, but it would have to do if you want to get to the lanterns tomorrow. Your head lays gently on the bark, the constellations that have witnessed centuries watch over you both in this small moment before you finally close your eyes drifting off to sleep.

Jungkook looks over when he hears your breathing slowing down, to see you knocked out like a light. Chuckling to himself, he can imagine how hard today was compared to being in that tiny room in the tower. He sits on the grass, leaning against the log you’re asleep on, looking at your figure. He was so curious to know you, he never heard anything about a girl being locked up in a tower, and surprisingly, he felt bad for you. So youthful and full of wonder, and he was youthful but full of danger.

Luckily, the town wasn’t far from where you slept, only a couple of hours in the morning and you finally saw the opening to the village. Even from afar, you could feel the energy that the people emit, vibrant clothing shining in the sunlight as people dance to the music. They move around each other like pebbles in the water, flowing around one another, as they fill each other with adrenaline-pumping happiness. You only see joyful faces as they bring the village to life. Chatter between sellers and buyers as if they were old friends. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Mother was wrong, there are good people in the world. Pascal looks in wonder, as he hides in the pocket of your dress, he’s never seen something like this in his life. If he thought your paintings were colourful, this was on a whole other level as they whizzed past him.

Purple seemed to be the main colour as it is splashed onto every bit of material you see, as you get closer you see a group of young girls that paint a mural on the floor, a star in the middle of purple paint. A picture of, who you presume are the king and queen with a young daughter in their arms, was in front of the painting.

Jungkook watches you silently as you smile widely, your eyes darting in every which way to take everything in. He gently grabs at your sleeve and tugs you towards one of the stands who does hair, sitting you in the chair. You look up at him questioningly, as the woman starts to braid your hair, making sure not to hurt you. She doesn’t question the twigs and leaves she finds, simply plucking them out. You sit in wonder, trying not to dart your head around to see more.

Your hair feels lighter and is easier to manage as you walk past the stalls. Briefly, you smell something sweet as you get closer to a particular one, your face lighting up at the sweetness. You pause your steps, taking a closer look at what it was.

Jungkook turns around to find that you’re not following him anymore, sending him into a panic as all he can see is a crowd of people. He’s familiar with his heart racing, normally from running away, but as he looks around he feels a different type of adrenaline, but all he has to do is breathe before calming down. His eyes are quick to find you, your purple dress matching perfectly with the theme as your hair flows down your back, flowers intertwined in certain strands. Walking towards you, he laughs when he sees your nose practically smudged against the glass that holds the doughnuts. You stare at him in shock, forgetting that you were supposed to follow him, causing heat to rise in your body.

“Do you want one?” He asks softly, nodding towards the sweet treat. You nod enthusiastically, causing another chuckle to rise from his throat as he hands the man behind the glass some money. You whisper a thank you as you take it from him, “what is this called?”

“It’s a doughnut.” He’s careful in calling you princess in the village, knowing it’s a sensitive topic and he doesn’t need to be at the center of attention right now, especially with all of the guards that he has seen. Tentatively, he watches you take your first bite, a giggle passes your lips once you’ve eaten it, taking another bite, clearly enjoying it as your cheeks fill like chipmunks. He watched fondly, before catching himself. No, he can’t fall for you. In a flash, he turns serious, cocking an eyebrow at you. Humiliation falls over you, at your obvious display of enjoyment. You’re not sure what you’ve done, but you still feel it as he looks at you with his sharp gaze. Lowering the doughnut, you avoid eye contact before nodding at him to continue with where you were walking to, giving the last of it to pascal.

However, you get distracted once again at a group of people dancing, their bodies speaking for how they feel. You have danced before, in the comfort of the walls you call home, but here where you see young girls skipping and weaving past the seas of people, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened, you realise that you’ve never truly danced. Forgetting about the moment earlier, you grab Jungkook’s hand and dance with him. His larger hands encased in yours as you follow the rhythm, being carefree of everything, feeling freedom run in your bones. You know that after tonight, life goes on as normal, so today you will be free of all of your worries.

Smiling and giggling you look up to find him mirroring your expression. His laugh is beautiful as you finally get to see him enjoy himself, maybe he has realised that he can also be carefree. Your feet pad against the stone floor, you know you’ll have to make up an excuse as to why your feet are battered and bruised when you get home, but right now you don’t care.

But you’re soon thrown out of this dream when his eyes widen, looking at something behind you. You go to look back when he softly puts your head in his chest, holding you close, your breath hitches at the contact of your bodies pressed together. The feeling of having someone so close was bizarre, even your mother didn’t hold you like this especially as long as this. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding your hand in his as he runs, shouting of guards impales your ears, clattering of boots and metal follow behind you as each step is calculated. Not used to the exertion of energy your breathing starts to get laboured as you both rush past people, it’s all a blur as your steps start to falter, Jungkook’s grip on your hand getting tighter. Your bare feet sting as they slap against the moss-laden rock, each stride of his were worth at least two of yours, his long legs and previous endeavours made this easy, barely breaking a sweat. With a good distance between you and the guards, Jungkook drags you around another corner and into a darker and smaller passageway. Abruptly he shoves you against the wall, causing you to wince, his body once again up against yours. In your pocket, you barely realise that Pascal is shaking, clinging onto your dress for dear life. But all you can do is look at his face, tight-lipped and his gaze is sharp as he listens for the guards, your breath hot against his hand that is against your lips, keeping you quiet. His own breathing is steady but slightly offbeat as for the first in a while, he is scared of being caught. He’s been running away from guards the whole of his life, but he couldn’t get you in trouble because of his actions. You can hear the guards getting closer, footsteps matching in beat with each other, trained to perfection as they rush past you both.

A sigh of relief from him as you smile up towards him, “that was an adventure” you laugh. The adrenaline that pumped through you was certainly a new experience, though your feet are paying the price as you look down at them. Jungkook copies you and looks at how red and bruised your feet are making him grimace. He opens his pouch in his pocket and hands you some coins and points to one of the stalls, “I’ll stay here, are you alright buying your own shoes?”

Looking around you don’t see any of the guards and nod at him, slightly uncertain. You’ve only socialised with two people, but you can do this! You can totally do this! Hesitantly, you walk up to the stall before looking back to Jungkook to find him standing with a smile and two thumbs up. Briefly, you look down to Pascal who nods at you, a small smile on his face. You nod your head again and continue forward, with timid steps before looking around at the shoes on show before finding a pair of loafers, white with a golden pattern on the front, matching perfectly with your dress. The woman that owns the stall laughs at you before guiding you to try them on. You smile widely at her before giving her the coins, to which she accepts with a small smile, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. Putting them on your feet, you wiggle your toes before skipping back to Jungkook. He smiles at you watching your eyes brighten up, talking animatedly about how you think they’re pretty and soft. Again, he can feel his heart skip a beat. But once more he ignores it. He’s not meant for you.

Unknown to both of you Pascal notices the looks he gives you and tilts his head, maybe he isn’t as bad as he thought.

As the sun descends and an ashen moon rises into the darkness he walks you along the beach, where a river lies in front of the castle. A small rowing boat sits upon the pale yellow of the sand, still against the calm waves. Jungkook unwinds the rope from the wooden pole and throws it into the boat. Holding out a hand he helps you get in as he pushes it off into the ocean, jumping in after, making the boat rock. You yelp and hold on to the side, crouching into a ball as you can feel it rock beneath you. You hear him laugh as he sits down, not bothered by the sway of the waves. He grabs the paddles and starts to row, you watch as his face contorts into concentration, his tongue bulges against his cheek, his once injured hand gripping the paddle with a tough grip, veins run along his forearm. A foreign feeling surges through you as you watch him, butterflies invading your stomach.

Soon enough you’re in the middle of the river, as he stops rowing, wiping off the sweat that formulated on his forehead with the back of his hand. Swiftly, Pascal crawls to the side of the boat and seats himself on the wood, waiting for the lights to warm up the sky. One particular question has been nagging in the back of your head ever since you saw the lanterns, “why do they send them off every year on my birthday?”

“The lanterns?” You nod.

“The daughter of the King and Queen was taken on this day and was never seen again. They hope by sending these lanterns off that she will find her way back.” He sighs, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. You know that he is hiding something as he avoids your eyes, looking out in the water. Before you can say anything a singular light floats up into the sky followed by thousands more. Gasping, you jump to the edge of the boat, trying to get a closer look, ignoring the tilt of the boat in your excitement. Lanterns illuminated like stars against the inky black night, the water merged the reflection of those in the sky, an autumn orange. Inside each lantern holds a small candle, lit with a prayer, calling out for the lost daughter. The pale silk hand-painted with the same star you saw earlier.

A cough from behind you causes you to look back, to find Jungkook sat with two lanterns in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. Gasping, you reach forward to grasp one, and softly it floats between your fingers and into the sky, circling around Jungkook’s. The world feels like it’s shifted, warm and bright even in the crisp night. Turning around, you thrust the satchel in his hands, “You took me to the lanterns. This is my end of the deal.”

Shaking his head, he pushes it away, “I don’t want it.”

Tilting your head in confusion, he continues to look in your eyes, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaning closer to you, “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve changed me. You made me question everything that I’ve done if only I had met you sooner.” you can feel his breath on your face, his gaze wavering to look down at your lips as you unconsciously lick your lips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you scoot closer to him, resting your hands on his knees. Your lips centimetres apart before the boat rocked, but it wasn’t due to the waves. A dark shadow cast over the both of you, laughter of three people getting closer to the boat, “well, look what we have here.” A rough voice calls out.

Looking up, you find your mother standing next to two men who are easily 6 foot in height, scars all over their bodies. Slamming their boat into yours, you go to topple over the edge beforehand reaches out and pulls you into them, “My sweet, precious daughter.” Her familiar scent engulfs your senses, her bony frame hugging you in a death grip. Jungkook heaves in a breath as his wet form is slung into the boat, coughing up water. The two men hold him in a vice grip, hauling him up by his arms as his body shivers from the cold.

Struggling to get out of your mother’s grip, Jungkook looks up at you and shakes his head, telling you to stop. Ignoring him, you continue, “Let him go.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. He took you from me, we can’t have that can we?” her patronising voice sings in your ear. One of the men punches him in the gut, as the other kicks his back legs causing him to fall to his knees, the wood digging into his skin from the impact. “And these lovely boys helped me, aren’t they sweet,” she says, grabbing your chin and harshly tugging it to make you look at them. An uppercut to head and he spits out blood, “Mother. Stop.” your voice is filled with panic, watching helplessly as they repeatedly punch him and kick him. Your mind goes wild, why isn’t he fighting back? Pascal watches on with wide eyes, knowing that he can’t do anything, feeling useless.

The pain that he feels is excruciating but he doesn’t do anything other than let it happen. He hears your blood-curdling screams but it comes in and out like waves, his sight becoming blurry as they continue. He deserves this. The stealing, the robbing, the slowly falling in love with you. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He screams as he’s cut in the shoulder, the knife shortly ripped out of him to be plunged into his left side. His blood is hot as it pours out, burning his cold figure. Looking up, he finds your face covered in tears, eyes bloodshot as you kick and scream for your mother to stop. You were one of a kind. He didn’t know how you did it, but you made him want to change for the better. He didn’t want the crown. He didn’t want wealth. He wanted you. But fate had a cruel way of showing him that he couldn’t have you. Another stab, another scream. Not from him, but you. He smiles weakly at you as he can feel himself about to pass out, his skin turning paler by the second.

“Mother, please,” you beg, tears cascading down your face like lava.

“Boys.” She says simply, both of them stopping and holding a bruising grip on his arms. His head sags, not having the energy to look up at you anymore.

“P-please. Please… Let me heal him and then you can take me. I’ll l-live with you forever. You and me. I’ll never go outside, I’ll do everything you ask of me. Just let me heal him and let him go.” You sniffle and choke on your words, breathless from screaming. Your mother cocks her head to the side before looking back to the two men, “Shoo. Take the crown and go.” A sick, twisted smile coats their faces as they both look at each other before jumping into the boat you came on, picking up the satchel and rowing away. Jungkook slumps to the floor, weakly holding onto his side.

Her grip on you disappears and you throw yourself to the floor, “Jungkook.” You frantically try and stop the blood, but too much has already been lost, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” you whisper, pushing down on one his wounds causing him to wince.

“Y/n.” you ignore him, grabbing your hair in your hands to wrap around him, before pale hands grip yours, “I can’t let you do this.” A single tear makes its way down his face, his hands are cold against yours signifying that you don’t have much time left.

“Please, please let me do this or you’ll die.” you softly caress his cheek, moving some hair out of his face, “If I let you do this, you’ll die.” he whispers, eyes blinking rapidly to try and stay awake. His breathing is heavy as he wheezes. Gently, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into him as your body shakes, “I love you.” With all of the energy that he can muster he snatches the knife from the floor before grabbing your hair and cutting it in one swipe. Jagged lines of hair fall to the ground, as you gaze at him with wide eyes.

A piercing screech comes from your mother, “what have you done?” she shouts, pulling her cloak over her, as she stammers around the boat before reaching the edge. It was like it was in slow motion as she topples over the edge and into the water, her arms flaring, struggling to keep afloat before her body slowly sank, as her body ages before you.

Jungkook’s grip around you becomes weaker, his breathing getting slower. Your heart sinks to your stomach, as you watch him take his last breath. “No, no, no, no, no” you whisper, choking as a sob threatens to tear at your throat. Pascal climbs on top of him, eyes sad as he watches the both of you, beneath him he can feel Jungkook’s breathing slowing down. Your hands shake as you watch blood ooze from his wounds, and you burst like a dam. Salty tears run down your face, racking with sobs. This was your fault, he didn’t deserve this. If only you would have stayed in the tower. If only you didn’t fall in love with him.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was m-mine.”

Your voice cracking continuously as you breathed the song. It was a bittersweet moment as the lanterns around you continued to float around you, full of life, burning into the ever glowing night sky, almost like they were mocking you. Light beamed around you, a golden hue spiraled around the both of you like it was dancing to a song before bursting, like a firework, into the star that has been engraved into your memory since this morning.

A wave of dizziness crashes over you, making you lose balance, your hands scraping against the wood. Flashes of memories burst through your mind. A small hand touching bigger ones. Chubby legs that look like they’re learning to walk for the first time. A mobile hanging from above the crib. And a star. The same star that you painted on your ceiling. The same star that’s been in front of your very eyes this entire day. Another flash and you see a man and a woman. The parents of the lost daughter.

Gasping, you see Jungkook getting up and holding his head in his hands, his body feeling sore. Throwing yourself at him once again, you swallow thickly holding back another sob. Gradually, he lifts himself up whilst keeping his arms around you, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“J-Jungkook. I-”

“It’s fine, I know,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as he manoeuvres your body to sit in his lap. “Y-you know what I am?” you sniffle, looking up at him, watching as he nods. “There was no way that you weren’t the missing princess. A girl that was kept in a tower, magical powers and the fact you looked identical to the picture painted on the wall in the middle of the village? I put it together fairly fast”

Leaning up, you kiss him softly on the lips but soon gets broken as you both start smiling uncontrollably, “Let’s get you home, princess.”

The balcony stood over the village, the open porch in front of you was held with detailed pillars, painted in a brilliant white. The architecture fitting perfectly with the village buildings, get standing out in the most ostentatiously way as the castle stood the tallest. Guards surrounded the both of you, causing Jungkook to be on his toes. If this all goes wrong you’ll both be jailed for life. The white stone of the castle glistened in the summer sun as you both wait anxiously.

Heels clack on the polished floor, steps full of purpose as you clutch Jungkook’s hand tighter. Two people; a man and women step out. A gasp escapes them both as your eyesight gets blurry. Your parents. Your mother runs towards you and embraces you, knocking the wind out of you as she storks your cheek as if you were made of glass, her bloodshot eyes smiling at you with love, “y/n.”

“Mother, father.” you smile at them taking a hand each in your own.

“This is Jungkook. He helped me get here.” You say as you turn around to face him. Your dad walks towards him, boot heavy on the ground as he embraces him, “thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

Smiling at the sight, you pull Jungkook towards you and squeeze him tight, “thank you.” you whisper into his chest, feeling the rumble of his chest as he laughs, “anything for you princess.”

Pascal squeaks from Jungkook’s shoulder before turning blue, when all of the attention is on him from his celebration of joy, making you all laugh and coo at him. The princess of the tower was finally free.

Please comment and reblog, tell me what you think!! It took me around 2 weeks to write this and I’m sorry if the ending isn’t as good :(( But I still hope you enjoyed

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

A Challenging Affair

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader

Word Count: 1,976

Warnings: None! This is 100% fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Shane wasn’t exactly the most up to date on current internet trends and challenges, but when you introduce him to a very interesting clothing challenge, it seems he can’t say no. Could today finally be the day New York City sees the Goth King wear some color?

“Babe!” You said, falling onto the bed beside Shane. “Babe, look at this!”

Shane rolled over from where he’d been working on his laptop and looked at your phone. “The fuck is that?”

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you explained. “Aren’t you on TikTok?”

“Maybe?” Shane said, confused. “I don’t even know anymore.”

You groaned. “You’re such an old man!” You said. “Shane Morrissey, the goth king of New York City, and he can’t operate his own damn phone.”

Shane elbowed you, causing you to squeal with laughter and roll away from him. “Watch yourself,” he warned you with a smile. “Or I’ll feed you to the dogs.” He rolled on top of you and blew a raspberry into your exposed belly, causing you to kick him, laughing uncontrollably.

“Shane!” You screamed, flailing. “Quit!”

“Aww,” Shane said, sliding off you and pouting. “But tormenting you is such fun.”

You gave his shoulder a small shove, reaching for your phone. “But did you see the challenge?”

The mattress creaked as Shane flopped down next to you. “No.”

You held your phone out. “It’s a couples challenge. The two people go to a thrift store or something and buy an outfit for their significant other, then they wear those outfits on a date. It looks cute.”

“Is this a coincidence?” Shane asked, raising his eyebrows. “Or do you know we’re doing date night tonight.”

“It might be a coincidence,” you said, nudging up against Shane. “But since you said we have date night tonight, why don’t we try it!”

Shane made a very unimpressed face at you, but shrugged. “Okay. I don’t care. But I get to pick the store.”

You held your hand out to shake. “Deal!”

In the end, Shane picked a place you and him both knew very well. The owners were good friends of yours and they were all excited to help you with the challenge when you explained it to them.

“Alright,” Elon, one of the owners, said. “Here are your bags.” They handed you and Shane each a solid black bag so the other couldn’t peek. “You have each other’s clothing sizes. Go forth and conquer!”

Immediately, you and Shane split up. You headed towards the sweaters and he headed for the shoes. Humming along to the music, you went through the soft shirts, ruling most of them out because they had too much of a pattern. You had quite the opportunity to put Shane in the most colorful shit you could find, but you weren’t that mean. Instead, you tried to find a balance between color and Shane.

Finally, your digging around rewarded you with a perfect sweater in Shane’s size. It was a faded grey blue with small black stars, and you knew just by looking at it that it would work well on Shane. Putting it in your bag, you left to go ask your boyfriend a question.

“No peeking,” Shane said warningly as you approached him. You smiled, looping your arm through his and leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I’m not peeking,” you said. “Just wanted to ask you a question.”

Shane continued to look at shoes, although you could plainly see the outline of a pair in his bag. “Fire away.”

“Do I have to get you pants?”

Shane froze for a second, trying to comprehend what you’d just said. “As opposed to getting me what?”

You shuffled your feet a tiny bit. “A skirt?”

“Oh.” Shane loosened, shrugging. “Yeah. Go ahead. I don’t care. I’ve told you plenty of times that gender is just a construct meant to control the masses.”

You giggled. “Don’t go all Dio on me,” you said. “I know you’re a giant dork under all that leather.”

Shane scrunched his face up, coughing you to laugh. “Mhm,” he hummed. “Now go away. I’m shopping.”

Giving Shane one last kiss, you walked away to find the right skirt for your sweater.

It wasn’t hard. You knew what would look good on him, and you found his size in a soft black overall skirt almost immediately. The skirt flared pretty well, and upon further examination, you found that it was a circle skirt. Tossing it and a pair of sheer black tights in your bag, you only had one more thing to find. Shoes.

On your way to the shoes, you got distracted. You’d intended to let Shane wear his regular jewelry, but passing the small display, you backtracked and grabbed a small ring with a beautiful Aries constellation on it.

You bumped into Shane, almost literally, as you rounded a corner. He smiled at you, gently guiding you around him so you two didn’t collide. “Watch it,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you hurting the pretty face of yours.”

Blushing, you scowled at Shane, sticking your tongue out at him as you walked away. He mimicked the gesture, showing off his rarely seen tongue piercing.

Shoes weren’t hard. Shane cycled through three different pairs of platform boots and two pairs of solid black Doc Martens, so you decided to let Shane continue with his current pair of shoes, which were one of the Doc pairs. You almost put a pair of hot pink crocs in the bag, just to screw with Shane, but you had told yourself you’d be kind, and hot pink crocs didn’t seem very kind, even if it was hilarious.

“I’m done,” you said cheerfully, walking over to where Shane was looking at shirts. “You?”

“I’ve been done,” Shane said. “Here.” He held out the bag for you. You exchanged it for your bag for him, swapping. “Ready?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yep! Let’s go!”

Elon’s girlfriend, Lucy, got you both set up in changing rooms, smiling at you knowingly. “Oh honey,” she said to you. “Dio got damn lucky with his pick.”

Suddenly nervous, you began to get changed.

The outfit wasn’t bad. In fact, you liked it. A cute pair of mom jeans with embroidered flowers around the folded ankles and the pockets, a white jersey knit shirt that you tucked loosely into the pants, a pair of white socks, and a pair of yellow buttercup earrings made up the outfit, but you couldn’t find the shoes.

“Shane?” You said, confused. “Where are the shoes?”

“There aren’t any in my bag either,” Shane said over the gap in the wall.

“You’re supposed to wear your Docs,” you said. “Should I wear my sneakers?”

“No,” Shane said. “I have your shoes. I wanted to see your face when I gave them to you.”

You pouted, leaving the dressing room and making a face at Lucy, who had her lips pressed together in barely contained amusement.

Shane stepped out of his dressing room, and your pour melted away. “You look so good!” You said eagerly.

Truthfully, Shane did look really good. The sweater was a tiny bit big, but that added to the aesthetic. The skirt was just the right length, and you couldn’t wait to run your hands across his thighs in public and give him a taste of his own teasing medicine. He shuffled in his shoes, shrugging.

“It’s too much color,” he said finally, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s one faded blue sweater,” you pointed out. “Be glad I didn’t pick the neon rainbow tie dye shirt.”

Shane fake gagged, causing you and Lucy to laugh.

“Okay,” Shane said, holding out a shoe box. “Sit.”

You sat down on a stool, closing your eyes at Shane’s request and putting your feet in his lap when he sat on the floor. You could feel him sliding each shoe onto your feet, and you tried to guess what they were.

“Are they platforms?” Shane adjusted the laces on the left shoe.

“No.” Shane pulled the laces on the left shoe tight.

“Docs?” Shane was adjusting the right shoe laces now.

“Yes.” Shane pulled on the right laces. You could feel your foot move as he tied them.

“Can I open my eyes?” You were super eager to see the shoes.

You felt Shane shuffle back, so your feet were no longer in his lap. “Yes.”

You opened your eyes, immediately gasping. The shoes were hideous and you adored them. You’d been trying to find a pair of these Docs in your size for years, but they had stopped making them a decade ago. “Are these the Pascal Darcys?”

Shane was smiling. “Those are the god awful Pascal Darcy Docs you desperately wanted,” he confirmed. “Lucy said Elon found a pair a few days ago, and when she told me they were in your size, I knew I had to get them for you.”

You all but launched yourself into Shane’s arms. “You absolute bastard!” You said happily, hugging him tight. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Shane said, holding you almost as tight as you were holding him. “Now c’mon, I believe we have a date tonight.”

Reluctantly, you took everything off and paid for it, carrying the bags home and trying to resist the urge to pull your new boots out and break them in with a trip around the block.

When you got home, you and Shane changed, and Shane wiped his heavy makeup away for something lighter and simpler.

“Can I do your makeup?” You asked, standing in the bathroom with Shane. “I picked your outfit, so it makes sense.”

Shane looked at you with his eyebrows raised. “No sabotage?”

You gasped. “You think too little of me!” You said, picking up Shane’s liquid eyeliner pen. “I would never.” You quickly kissed Shane’s nose. “I promise,” you added softly. “No sabotage.”

Shane sat still as you did his makeup, not going overboard because you didn’t want to. Instead, you kept it simple with a small amount of eyeliner and a bit of extra blush across his cheeks and nose.

“I think I should return the favor,” Shane said, standing once you were finished. “Gimme the brush.”

“I’m already perfect,” you shot back, but handed him the brush anyway.

You ended up with the same treatment as Shane. Some eyeliner and blush was all he decided you needed before he was telling you to go put your shoes on. You didn’t need to be told twice, racing off to go put your new boots on.

“Do you still love them?” Shane asked, putting his arm around you as you walked out of the building.

“Do you still think they’re ugly?” You asked back, smiling.

Shane sighed, smiling. “They’re really not my thing,” he said. “But I’m glad you love them.”

You grinned, kicking your foot as best you could while walking. “I love them,” you said.

Your date ended up being an early dinner at a local cafe and then you and Shane wandering around a tiny used bookstore for almost an hour. You didn’t buy anything, you just enjoyed the book smell and the calming atmosphere, losing yourself among the stacks of old books. The owner was a witch, and you found Shane talking to her about tarot cards. You pressed yourself to Shane’s side, yawning and snuggling closer to his sweater.

Shane instinctively put an arm around you, holding you to him. You smiled. “Can we go home?” You asked softly. “I’m tired.”

“Of course,” Shane said, kissing your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow Beth.”

Beth waved as you two went, walking silently home.

When you fell into bed, in your pyjamas and half asleep already, you were surprised to see Shane follow you, still wearing his sweater. The skirt and tights had been exchanged for sweatpants, and his shoes were discarded somewhere in the bathroom.

“Did you have fun?” Shane asked, snuggling close to you.

You nodded, sleepily humming. “Yeah. Thank you for indulging me today.”

Shane smiled, pulling the blankets up to cover the both of you. “For you, my dove, anything.”

#nypd blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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feralthoughtdump · 3 years

Text

Arsonist’s Lullaby

Part One: Kiss With A Fist

Part Two: Only Angel

Bucky and his Angel’s relationship grow closer.

Word Count: 6.8K

CW: violence, Bucky and his nightmares, John Walker being an ass, a little bit of fluff, smut, brief shower sex, Bucky steps on the reader with his boots, spitting, choking, spanking, Bucky using his metal arm, crying, FATWS ep. 3&4 spoilers

The cold air of the cargo container was strange, given that they were in a southeast Asian island. It sent a chill down Angel’s spine. Like something would go very wrong. They survey the empty space, searching for Nagel.

Sharon was certain Nagel was here, but there was no sight of him.

But Angel could hear the slight vibrations of music coming from… somewhere.

She approaches the back of the container and feels around the rough metal wall.

“Hey, I think he may be in here.” She beckons them over.

Pressing a gloved hand onto the metal, she pushed, revealing a small laboratory in front of them.

“You three go ahead.” She mutters. “I’ll keep an eye out with Sharon.”

Before they can say anything, she strides out of the container.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Sharon crosses her arms as the door closes. “I know them well. They can hold their own.”

“Oh, I know.” Angel chuckles.

“Bucky likes to call you Angel, huh. Seems like you two bonded pretty quickly.”

She gives Sharon a humored look as they stroll around the dock.

“I thought psychopaths couldn’t form bonds.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

Their eyes dart all over the place, looking for any oncoming bounty hunters.

“How’d you get my photo anyways?”

“Heavy analysis of CCTV footage, a few phone calls, and a lot of digging. The photo was shit quality, but it was enough for me to go off of.”

“Was it enough to catch me?”

“I guess so. Then Zemo blew up the UN so we tabled the case.”

“Interesting. Maybe that UN bombing was a blessing in disguise. Saved me a life sentence in a high-security prison.”

They turned a corner.

“You wouldn’t have gone to jail. MI6 would’ve given you a job instead.”

“Hmph. I’d rather die than be a servant.”

From the corner of her eye, Angel spots a passing black shadow.

“Guys,” she presses a finger onto her earpiece. “Someone’s here.”

A gunshot rings out from the container and the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Sharon gives her a knowing look and they turn the safety off of their guns.

“Here.” Angel whispers, handing Sharon a knife. “It’ll come in handy.”

Three bounty hunters transverse on them and they open fire, taking them down one by one.

“We don’t have much time, hurry up!” Sharon yells into the earpiece.

A bounty hunter wraps their arms around Angel and she grabs a knife, jamming it into their arm.

Adrenaline floods her system, dialing her senses up to ten. A swift roundhouse kick sends another hunter tumbling to the ground.

From behind her, she hears Sam and Bucky yelling and she runs towards them.

“It’s in every action movie!” She hears Sam yell.

If her life wasn’t on the line, she would’ve laughed.

“You okay?” She pants.

“No! We’re not!” Sam yells. “Zemo shot Nagel!”

“What? Where is he?”

Her question was answered when a container set fire and exploded. She spots Zemo standing atop another, donning a purple mask. Before she can point him out, he sprints away.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Gunshots ring from her right and Bucky wraps a protective arm around her. In her peripheral she sees a bounty hunter riding towards her on a motorcycle, guns blazing. She quickly wriggles out of Bucky’s grasp and sends a knife into the tire, throwing the hunter off of the vehicle and into the fire.

“Good aim.” He says, mouth agape in surprise.

“You just threw that dude into a fire!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, well, he was going to kill us.”

They continue to run through the maze of crates, turning corner after corner, dodging bullet after bullet.

As much as he hates to admit it, the sight of Angel in action, when her violence wasn’t directed towards him, sends a rush through his system.

Zemo speeds towards them in a convertible, signaling them to get in. Sam jumps in the passenger seat while Bucky and Angel sit in the back.

Her pupils are blown wide and Bucky swears he can feel the electricity radiating off of her. Without stopping to calm down, he grabs her face in his hand and presses a passionate kiss on her lips.

His heart skips a beat when she kisses him back, and in the corner of his eye, he spots Sharon giving either him or Angel, a thumbs up.

…

Bucky makes it a habit to call her Angel all the time. He likes the way it slips off his tongue. He likes the way her eyes seem to glimmer when he calls her that. It’s as if the more he calls her Angel, she seems to glow more and more.

He calls her Angel when they board the jet on the way to Latvia.

He calls her Angel when she sits down to change the gauze on her thigh.

He calls her Angel when they get to the Riga safe house.

The more time he spends with her, the more he notices the little things about her. He notices how her tongue sticks out a little when she does her eye makeup.

He notices how her head would bop along to music in her earbuds

He notices how she’ll curl up on the couch, tucking her knees close to her body, while she sketches.

He notices how she’ll mutter curses in different languages. Mandarin, French, Russian, Spanish just to name a few.

He notices how she took off her jewelry when she showers with the exception of a gold chain. A gold chain with a dangling pendant. A pendant of a little angel.

He notices how she uses apple cinnamon body wash. It made her smell warm. It made her smell like home.

She gets along with Sam. Even Zemo.

She talks about philosophy with Zemo and when she converses with Sam, they talk about music.

She’s a force to be reckoned with. Fiery. Just like Selby had said. A firebird.

And despite her cool, hardened front, there was a gentleness to her.

The jet had touched down in Latvia late and night and they collectively decided to get a good night’s rest before finding Karli.

He had woken up from a nightmare. Reliving the memory of killing Yori’s son.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but he padded over to Angel, reading Anna Karenina. Glasses perched on her nose, hair loose and resting past her shoulders.

She looks up at him.

“Nightmare?”

Bucky nods, tears pricking are his eyes.

She places the book on the floor and stretches out on the couch.

“Come here.” She whispers arms open wider

She let him lay his head on her chest, nose pressed against her sternum. With gentle hands, she runs her fingers through his hair, slowing his rapid heartbeat.

The serum had made his hearing sharper and from his position between her breasts, he could hear the soft thumping of her heart. It calmed him.

“Can you sing to me?” He mumbles.

The hand playing with his hair stops.

“Sing to you?” She asks.

“Mhm.”

“I-“ she pauses “I don’t really-“

“Please.” He begs.

She’s quiet, just calmly stroking his hair, then she sighs.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything. Just… please, I want you to sing for me.”

She ponders for a moment before she parts her lips, voice shaky and quiet.

When I was a child, I heard voices

Some would sing and some would scream

You soon find you have few choices

I learned the voices died with me

He closes his eyes and noses at her sternum.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

The song is unfamiliar. He didn’t listen to music all that much anymore. And even when he listens to music, it was mostly from the 40s.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

Her voice, still soft and quiet, is haunting. The way it wraps around the lyrics, warms his heart. He breathes in the smell of her apple cinnamon body wash.

When I was 16, my senses fooled me

Thought gasoline was on my clothes

I knew that something would always rule me

I knew the scent was mine alone

He loves the way he can feel her chest move up and down. The way her voice sounds so rich with his ear pressed against her chest, the music echoing within her ribs.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

He reaches his hand to play with the angel pendant on her necklace. Finger running over the grooves.

When I was a man I thought it ended

When I knew love's perfect ache

But my peace has always depended

On all the ashes in my wake

As he drifts off to sleep, he can hear the last lines of the song lingering on her lips. The images from war. The torture he endured, the people he’s killed, the amends he has yet to make, all temporarily fade from his mind.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

And for the first time since Steve left, Bucky was able to sleep without disturbance.

…

“You have a lovely voice.”

Angel was pulled from her sleep when she hears Zemo’s voice.

She glares at him and places a finger on her lips, shushing him. Bucky was still lying on top of her, still asleep and she didn’t want to wake him.

“My apologies.” He smiles.

“Were you watching us last night?” She interrogates quietly.

“No, but I do have a keen sense of hearing. I heard you singing to James.”

She turns her head to meet his eyes.

“He had a nightmare. It was the least I could do for him.”

“Understandable.” He nods. “My son used to have nightmares and my wife’s voice was the only thing that could put him to sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles sympathetically. “About your family, I mean. I know you lost them a while ago.”

Her hand combs through Bucky’s hair.

“I understand how vengeance and anger overtook you. You needed your revenge. But don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt who? James?”

“Yes.” Her voice darkens. “If you lay a finger on him, I won’t hesitate to bury you.”

Zemo sighs.

“I have no intention of harming him. I see the way you look at him. It’s the same look I used to give my wife. You care for him dearly and given your line of work, I know you’d do anything to avenge the people who harm the ones you love.” He walks towards her and offers her a cookie. Angel takes it with a wary hand.

“You’ve got anything else you want to say?”

“I do have a question about that song. I knew that something would always rule me.” He quotes. “Was that about yourself, or James?”

She narrows her eyes.

“It was just a song.”

“Yet it implies that something will always have power, control, over the songwriter.” He tilts his head.

“What are you implying, Baron?”

“It’s not an implication. It’s an observation. You two share a common trait. For James, it’s his past. His time as the Winter Soldier looms over him. As for you, you seem to have this, how do I say it, a compulsion to kill. It will always stick to you.”

“Baron, I suggest you pick your next words very carefully.”

Bucky stirs and she lifts her hand from his head.

“Mmm. Good morning.” He mumbles, voice rough and heavy.

“Good morning to you too sleepyhead.” She coos, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” He hums.

She gives Zemo a look that says ‘get out.’

Zemo gives her a smirk and walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

Bucky opens his eyes and Angel can feel her heart melt. He balances himself on his arm to press a kiss to her nose.

“You look cute with bed head.” He chuckles. “So pretty. I could just eat you up.”

“You look quite pretty when you sleep.” She giggles and rubs her nose against his.

He places his head back on her chest and they lie there for a while, listening to the sounds of the city.

Finally, she sighs.

“Alright, Bucky, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He whines and wraps his arms around her.

“No, stay.”

“Bucky,” she says sternly, “I have to wash my hair, let go.”

With a huff, he sits up and lets her get off of the couch. As she stands she turns around spotting Bucky, arms crossed and a pout on his face.

“I never said you couldn’t join.”

Bucky jumps up and runs to her. He places his hands on her waist and turns her around, pressing a kiss to her lips. She links her fingers with his and he follows behind her towards the bathroom.

While they wait for the water to heat up, she reaches into her bag to pull out bottles of product.

He spots the shimmering bottle of apple cinnamon body wash and smiles.

“Apple cinnamon body wash.” He notes.

“Mhm. It's inexpensive but it smells nice.”

“It does.”

She places her hand under the stream of water and gets a feel for the temperature. The water is hot, just how she likes it. Her hands pull the t-shirt over her head and then her cotton underwear.

Bucky waits for her to step into the shower before he strips down and joins her.

A content smile crosses her face when the hot water hits her body but her peace is broken when she hears Bucky yelp.

“Why is the water so hot?”

“I like it hot.” She turns to face him and playfully pokes at his navel. “It’s relaxing.”

“You’re going to boil me alive.” He grumbles.

“If you don’t like the hot water,” She bluntly states, “then get out.”

She shampoos her hair, letting the bubbles froth around her fingers, and then she pours a bit into her hand and reaches up to massage it into Bucky’s hair.

He runs a metal finger down her sternum, collecting a bit of the bubbles that run down her body. When his finger reaches her scar, his touch lingers.

Seeing the guilt in his eyes, Angel places a finger underneath his chin and has him look into her eyes instead.

“Don’t.” She murmurs. “You’ll only torture yourself reminiscing on the past.” She pulls him under the stream, letting the water wash away the shampoo in their hair.

She’s got a meticulous shower routine, one that she likes to perform herself, yet she’s okay with Bucky standing next to her. When she combs the conditioner through her hair, she does the same for Bucky, knowing it would soften his hair even more and make it smell like vanilla and pomegranate.

She places a bit of the apple cinnamon body wash in her hands and rubs it onto his body. Her hands pay extra attention to the scar on his shoulder.

“It’s got vitamin E in it. Helps with scars.”

Bucky turns her around, making her face away from him.

She can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but she hums with relaxation when she feels his strong hands rub the body wash into her skin.

“You’ve got some knots in your shoulders.” He notes.

“I’m aware of that.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I am.”

When the water washes away the body wash, the shower is filled with the scent of apple cinnamon.

She’s surprised when she feels a kiss on the back of her shoulder but nevertheless, she enjoys it.

Bucky presses another kiss in the center of her shoulders and kisses her along the line of her back. He sinks to his knees and places a kiss onto the dimples of her back.

“Buck, what are you doing?” She smirks, turning around.

“I just wanna love on you.” He murmurs against her skin. “Can I?”

She blinks owlishly, then slowly nods her head.

“Y-yeah” she breathes.

Bucky places a kiss on her scar and runs his tongue over it, sending a fire through her.

“Open your legs for me, doll.”

She shyly parts her legs and Bucky smiles up at her.

He grabs her waist, hoisting her knees over his shoulders, pressing her back against the wall.

She lets out gaspy whines when he kisses and nips at her thighs, letting his stubble rub against the sensitive skin.

“Bucky,” she whimpers “we- we’re going to waste water.”

“Don’t worry about that, doll.” He murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good.”

He licks a stripe up her folds, causing her to gasp. She grabs onto his hair, pulling him closer.

“So sweet, baby. You taste so sweet.”

She doesn’t reply. She couldn’t. Not when he was making her feel so good.

She slaps her other hand onto the wall, trying to hold herself up. Bucky tightens his grip on her and leans in closer, continuously licking into her, making her head spin.

She tries to say something, tell him she’s close, tell him she’s going to cum quicker than she thought, but the only sounds that leave her mouth are breathy moans.

When he pulls away, she whines. He gives her a cocky grin.

“Wanna cum?”

She vigorously nods her head.

“That’s a shame.” He lets go of her legs, almost dropping her onto the tile, and wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. “We’ve got a big day ahead.” His tone is teasing, almost mean. “I’ll let you cum later.”

She’s left on the edge, and she’s angry. No, not angry. Frustrated. Frustrated and desperate.

“You’re mean.” She grumbles, shutting off the water.

“If you give me attitude, I won’t let you cum at all.” He chuckles.

She pushes him away and wraps a towel around her body.

“I don’t need you to cum anyways.” She grumbles under her breath.

As she walks away, he grabs her by the back of her neck and pulls her into his chest.

“If I were you,” He lowers his lips to her ear, “I’d behave. Now,” he releases his grip and gives her ass a smack. “Get dressed, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

She digs through her duffel to find a simple red jumpsuit. The neckline is low enough to be teasing, but it had enough support and pockets to be practical.

“Sounds like someone had a good morning.”

She turns around, a big grin stretching across her face when she sees Sam.

“Sam! Good morning!” She cheers.

“No need to good morning me when I woke up to the sound of fucking.” he grumbles, annoyance in his voice.

She chuckles as she buttons the front of her jumpsuit.

“So, Bucky tells me we have a lot going on today. What’s on the itinerary?”

“Hopefully, we can track down Karli and convince her to stop. At least that’s my plan.”

“Sounds good.”

He grabs his jacket from the chair. “I’m headed out to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”

“I’m okay.” She smiles at him. “Thanks for asking.”

Sam reaches the door and turns around.

“One more thing, you’ve got a great voice.”

“Was I that loud or did no one sleep at all last night?”

Sam chuckles.

“I think after the past few days, it’s hard for anyone to get a good night's sleep.” He looks down, fiddling with his fingers. “What you did… what you did for Bucky in Madripoor, when we were undercover…”

“What did I do?” She asks curiously.

“When Zemo had him go all Winter Soldier, you fought alongside him, you got to that first guy before Bucky did.”

Angel is quiet. She says nothing, looking down at her hands and picking at her cuticles.

“He might not say this to your face, but I’ve been around him long enough to know that he’s thankful. And so am I.”

She doesn’t know what to say. What would she even say?

“I can see now why he likes calling you Angel.”

With that, the door closes.

She walks over to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets. The shelves were fairly empty, mostly just tins of cookies and candy, and a box of cherry blossom tea. She huffs in frustration when her fingers brush over the tin of candy, barely moving it.

“Need some help, doll?”

Bucky grabs the tin and places it on the counter.

Her frustration is reignited at the sight of him in a tight, black t-shirt. She wants him to bend her over, fuck her until she sobs.

But she knows he won’t give her that.

Before she can grab it, Bucky holds it above his head.

“You’re evil.” She mutters. “Come on, give me it.”

“Nope!” He smirks.

“Go fu-“

She yelps when Bucky loops his thumb through the belt loop of her jumpsuit and pulls her close to him.

“Remember what I told you? Watch your language.”

“Give me the candy or you’re not getting head for a week.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he hands her the box.

“Thank you.”

She presses a kiss to his nose and walks away with the box.

She knows what Bucky’s doing. He’s riling her up, teasing her.

But two can play that game.

She sits up on the counter and opens the tin.

Turkish Delight. Candy she used to eat as a child.

He’s staring at her. She can feel it. Her fingers pluck a candy from the box and hold it up.

“Want one?”

Bucky walks over to her and wedges himself between her thighs.

“Sure.”

She unwraps the candy and places a finger on his chin, beckoning him to open his mouth.

Her fingers place the treat on his tongue.

“Sweet, isn’t it?”

He kisses her and she can taste the sugar on his lips.

“Almost as sweet as you.”

She grabs another and hops off of the counter, humored by Bucky’s frustrated look.

“Sam probably wants everyone ready by the time he gets back. So, I don’t know.” She eyes him up and down, ready to drool at the sight of his arms. “Get dressed.”

“Oh doll, I’m already dressed.” He chuckles.

“Good. Then help me out.” Her fingers deftly unbutton the top of her jumpsuit, exposing her black sports bra. She reaches for her harness and shoves it in Bucky’s hands. “Buckle me in.”

…

Sex was the last thing on her mind when she’s face to face with the new Captain America.

“Karli Morganthau is too dangerous for you to be pulling this shit.” He yells.

Angel rolls her eyes at the sight of John Walker.

“How’d you find us now?” Bucky replies, voice full of annoyance.

“You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

Angel’s seen his face in the news. Lemar, the better of America’s new dynamic duo.

“No more keeping us in the dark, and you can tell us why you broke him” John points to Zemo “out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky answers.

“That is an unbelievable explanation! And who the hell are you?” He points to Angel.

“I’m a friend.” She grumbles, eyes narrowed.

“You have no business being here. And whatever you’re wearing, all you’re going to do is draw attention.”

“And your little Mr. America getup isn’t?”

“Why don’t you go back to working in European intelligence or whatever it is you do.”

“You better watch your mouth, Mr. Walker.” She snarls. “Is that really how you speak to a lady?”

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupts their feud.

“Well, where?”

“All we know is,” Sam answers, “It’s a memorial. We’ll intercept her there.”

“That means civilians, high risk of casualties.” Lemar states.

“Alright good.” John schemes. “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.”

“Not a good idea, John.” Angel retorts. He halts in his steps and turns to her.

“You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into. This is an American situation.”

She leans in until she’s staring into his eyes. Rage broils inside of her.

“Let me tell you something John, I don’t care about your medals of honor. I don’t care that you’re wearing that red and blue suit. So I’ll tell you this once, and only once. If you dare speak to me like this again, I won’t hesitate to-“

Bucky pulls her back, giving her a stern look.

“Hey,” he rubs her shoulder, trying to settle her anger. “He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, so she’s your little girlfriend huh?”

Angel presses the tip of her knife against his chin and backs him into a wall.

“You stay out of Bucky’s business.” She seethes.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

This time, both Sam and Bucky had to pull her away, but she keeps her murderous glare trained on him.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes. Keep your little psycho under control.” John spits.

“Hey, don’t speak to her like that,” Sam demands. “Just because you don’t know her doesn’t give you an excuse to be rude.”

“Either you show her some respect,” Bucky says “or all of the help we have to offer is off of the table.”

Sam nods in agreement and eventually so does Zemo, who adds a small shrug.

“I wasn't actually going to kill him.” She mutters under her breath.

“We know.” Sam pulls her into a side hug. He directs his words back to John. “I want to talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.”

“Look, the person closest to her died. She’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her, it’s now.”

“What?” John halts in his steps. “No, wait stop. We are way past reasoning with her.”

“Sam,” Lemar states. “If you walk in there cold, you could die.”

“But if you walk in guns blazing, you could have the blood of hundreds of civilians on your hands.” Angel folds her arms. “Besides, if things go wrong, I’m trained in mixed martial arts.”

“You think a black belt will save you from a super-soldier?”

Angel snorts.

“It has before.”

Bucky looks down and stifles a laugh.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam argues with John. “This is in my wheelhouse.”

They’re all silent, staring daggers at each other.

“John,” Lemar breaks the silence “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” He gives Angel a kind smile. “And I think we give this girl a chance to show us what she’s got.”

“Thank you.” She smiles back.

“I’m sure this can all come to an agreeable conclusion.” Zemo points forward. “My associate is just up ahead.”

They watch as Zemo approaches a young girl, handing her some money. She beckons them to follow her down a cobblestone path, into a building, and through the boiler room.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” John states while handcuffing Zemo to a pipe. “Then we’re doing things my way.”

While they wait, Angel spends her time playing with her butterfly knife, spinning the handle around her fingers.

“How do you not cut yourself doing that?” Lemar asks.

She spins the knife closed.

“I have before, it’s just about practice and being careful. Here, I’ll show you.”

Bucky observes Angel showing off her knife tricks to Lemar.

Despite the stressful situation, he still felt a pang of possessiveness. She was his Angel. He gave her that name and when she said she’d accepted it. In a way, she was his and he was hers.

“What’s your name? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

He hears Lemar ask.

Angel giggles.

“It’s Artemis. Like the goddess.”

Artemis. It’s fitting, Bucky thinks. The goddess of the hunt.

“That’s really cool. Let me guess, your parents were huge mythology fans?”

“You can say that.” She chuckles.

His eyes narrow when she smiles at Lemar.

Their conversation continues and Bucky’s jealousy burns brighter when she places her fingers on the fabric of Lemar’s suit, giving him a comment on how she’s got an eye for fashion and how nice the fabric was. From his position by the door, he sees her turn to him and give him a wink.

Bucky scowls. That little minx.

John crosses his arms and stares daggers into her.

“What exactly do you do, anyway?” He scoffs. “Are you some kind of spy?”

Angel raises a brow.

“I’m not a spy. I’m just a problem solver.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John shakes his head and secures the shield on his arm. “Nevermind. I’m going in.”

“Oh, come on John, it’s only been eight minutes.”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not-” Angel sighs and turns away, focusing her attention on pulling her hair back.

Bucky stops him before John can get through the doorway.

“It must be so easy for you.” John’s voice is full of malice. “All that serum running through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Bucky can see Angel slowly shake her head, telling him not to give in to John’s words. But he can’t. He’s already done so much harm. He’s responsible for the deaths of so many people, he can’t let Sam become another.

So, he lets John walk past him, Lemar following along.

Angel runs up to him.

“Bucky, why’d you do that?”

“I can’t… I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing him.”

She sighs and places a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I understand.” Her lips land a gentle kiss on his nose. “But don’t let his words get to you. Now,” She grins and lightly smacks his ass. “Go make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.”

With one final kiss, Bucky runs off.

She turns around to see the handcuffs dangling from the pole. Her blood runs cold. Zemo escaped and who knows what he’ll do.

She runs through the halls, boots quietly slapping on the concrete floors. From her left, she hears a series of loud gunshots and crunching glass.

Her feet lightly tread next to the walls, ears picking up every little sound.

She jumps, heartbeat pounding when the thump of a body falling to the ground meets her ears.

Did Zemo kill someone? Was it Karli? Another Flag-Smasher?

She runs through the door closest to her. From behind a table, she spots John staring at a small vial. A small vial of the serum. Before she can say anything, he runs away.

As she quietly walks into the room, she spots Zemo, lying on the ground, unconscious. No one else was here.

She crouches down next to him and gently shakes his shoulder.

“Baron? Zemo? Come on, wake up.”

He doesn’t move.

She picks up his wrist, pressing her pointer and middle fingers on the vein. A sigh of relief passes her lips at the feeling of a pulse.

Her hands shake his shoulder again, this time, with more vigor.

“Zemo!” She shouts.

His eyes snap open and he groans in pain.

“You passed out Baron.”

“I’m aware.” He grumbles. “John Walker threw the shield at me.”

“Of course he did.”

She offers him a hand and helps him stand up.

“Can you walk?” She asks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

The two make their way through the city until they reach Zemo’s apartment. Sam was already there, typing away on his computer.

Angel wets a towel in the kitchen and hands it to Zemo.

“Go, lie down. Put this over your eyes.”

She walks down the hall towards Bucky’s room. With a tired sigh, she removes her shoes, jumpsuit, and harness.

Her eyes close as she lies on the bed in her underwear. The sports bra felt much too tight but she didn’t care. She was tired. Her morning sexual frustration had caught up to her but she didn’t feel like doing anything about it.

Even though it was only seven in the evening, she just wanted to sleep.

Right when she’s drifting off to sleep, the slam of the bedroom door jolts her awake.

Bucky is standing in front of her, arms crossed, eyes filled with rage.

“Get off the bed.” He snarls.

She laughs and rolls over onto her stomach.

“No. If sex is what you want, let’s do it on the bed.”

She hears a sigh behind her and her eyes widen when she feels Bucky’s hands wrap around her ankles.

“Buck, what are you-”

Her words come to a halt when he pulls her off of the bed and onto her knees.

“You wanted me to fuck you?” He seethes. “Fuck you rough until you can’t speak?”

“That was the plan.” She smirks.

He twists a hand in her hair and pulls her head back. Her breath is shallow as she looks up, meeting Bucky’s angry eyes.

He’s mad. At the entire Karli situation, and maybe with her. But his anger towards her, she assumes, is fiery, lustful anger. Anger that she can have a lot of fun with.

“If you had let me cum earlier,” She snaps, “ maybe I wouldn’t have been such a brat.”

She rubs her thighs together, trying to alleviate the arousal burning through her. A whine leaves her lips when he kicks her legs apart.

He tightens his grip on her hair.

“You really need to learn some respect.”

Bucky places the toe of his boot on her back and pushes her face down onto the floor. She doesn’t resist, giving in to his dominance.

“Aww, look at you,” he mocks, “You were so bold earlier, my Angel. Where did that fire go?”

Her heart swells. He’s no longer calling her Angel. He’s called her his Angel. She was his.

Footsteps echo around her and she takes a shaky breath when his black boots come into view.

“Look at me, doll. I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

His voice is commanding, authoritative. It drew her in, made her head spin.

She looks up at him with wide eyes as he bends down on a knee.

“Were you trying to rile me up? Trying to make me angry?”

She nods.

Bucky roughly grabs her chin, cold metal digging into her cheeks.

“Use your words.”

“Y-yes Sergeant.” She squeaks.

He stares down at her, anger and lust in his eyes.

“Open your mouth.”

Her lips part and Bucky spits, letting his saliva pool on her tongue.

His fingers press on her chin, closing her mouth. She swallows, heat burning in her tummy.

“So now, you want to be a good girl, huh?”

He picks her up by her neck and shoves her face into the soft mattress. His fingers loop around the elastic waistband of her panties and pull, the fabric digging into her cunt.

“Yes, I’m your good girl.” She whines. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

He leans in close, his warm breath brushing over her ear.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rears his metal hand against her ass, leaving a red handprint of her skin.

A choked breath leaves her lips. She relishes in the pain and gives him a cocky smile.

“Is that all you got Sarge?”

He lands another hard smack, this time on her thigh. A whimper escapes her lips.

“Oh, you’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

He shifts his hand on her neck, wrapping it around the front of her neck. She squeezes at the sides, slowing the circulation of blood to her head.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the hand on her throat stops the words from leaving her lips.

The clinking of his belt buckle sends a wave of lust through her.

She was finally getting what she wanted.

His hand on her neck is released and she takes in a sharp breath.

He pulls her panties down her legs and throws them to the side.

She gasps at the feeling of cold metal rubbing between her folds. Her fingers dig into the sheets, grabbing at the fabric.

“You’re practically dripping.” He muses, “Who knew you were such a masochist?”

“Only for you.” She keens.

“Only for me? Not for anyone else?”

“Yes! Yes! Only you!”

Bucky hums and lands another smack on her ass. She yelps and tears threaten to spill from her eyes.

He shoves two fingers inside of her and she gasps at the cool feeling of the metal.

She squirms around as he twists his fingers, pressing against that spot inside of her.

Hunger swarms her brain. She wanted, no, needed more.

What he’s doing is sadistic, she thinks. Constantly bringing her to the edge, but never letting her tip over.

He lets his thumb press against her clit and the tears she’s been trying to hold back spill over. She lets out a quiet sob into the sheets but Bucky doesn’t stop his movements.

“I need more.” She quietly whimpers.

“You think you have the right to beg?” He asks nonchalantly. “After that little show?”

“I’m sorry.” She cries.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she turns her head, letting her cheek rest on the bedsheets. When she glances up, she can see Bucky’s amused smirk.

She feels the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance and she holds her breath.

“Oh doll,” he coos, thumbing away her tears, “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

A sudden thrust of his hips buries his cock inside of her. Bucky clamps his hand over her lips, muffling her desperate cries.

“Shh, shh,” He whispers gently. “It’s okay, love. Be a good girl and take it.”

He starts moving, his hips slowly thrusting into her. The fire inside of her burns, hotter and hotter. Her head is reeling as she feels herself come closer to her impending orgasm. Despite how rough he is with her, she feels safe. Safe with him. She feels safe enough to fall into submission, open and pliant for him.

Her sobs against his hand become louder, more intense and he bends down to nip at her neck.

“Are you gonna cum, angel? Cum all over my cock?”

She nods, eyes squeezed shut.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He asks.

“No,” she mumbles against his hand. “But I want to.”

He brushes his fingers down the length of her back and she shivers.

“You wanna cum, doll? Ask nicely.”

He releases his hand and grabs her hip, pulling her deeper onto his cock.

“Please.” She gasps. “Please, let me cum!”

“You have to do better than that.”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you! I’ll never flirt with anyone again! Just please! Please, I wanna cum.”

He picks up his pace, and she finds it harder to stave off her orgasm.

“So polite.” He hums, “But not yet.”

She lets out a pathetic sob.

“Please.” She whimpers.

“Be patient. You’ll get to cum soon.”

Her breaths are shallow as she tries to keep herself from cumming. She bites down on her lower lip but the pain does little to help.

Relief washes over her when Bucky speaks again.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. Come on angel, cum for me.”

Her teeth bite down on the sheets as she’s hurtles over the edge, her orgasm sending shockwaves through her body.

As her chest heaves and her mind becomes foggy, she can barely feel Bucky pull out and releases him cum on her back.

She lies there, upper half sprawled over the mattress, a dopey smile on her face. A hum of pleasure slips past her lips when Bucky wipes his cum away with a warm washcloth.

“You okay, doll?” He asks.

She nods her head.

The bed shifts as he sits on the bed and pulls her towards him.

“Come on,” He lies down and pulls her close to him. He noses at the back of her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

The sun was about to set, bathing their bodies in a golden glow. He runs his metal fingers over her bicep, cooling down her heated skin.

She’s tired, so tired. Yet she’s happy. The first time in a long time that she’s actually felt happy.

“Bucky?” She asks in a fucked out daze.

“Yes my angel?”

A moment of silence passes.

“You’re the only one who’s made me feel human.”

...

Once again, tysm @sojournmichael for reading over my little snippets of writing!

#bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #bucky fanfic

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believeitseeitdoit · 4 years

Text

A Defiled Uniform

Steve x reader x Bucky , Steve Rogers x reader , Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: the boys find a particular garment in your stuff, and set out to fulfill an old fantasy in the bedroom

Rating: 18+, don’t touch this if you are under age please, and sweet Jesus wrap it up folks,

Warnings: CW brief discussion of religion and old style school punishments, SMUT, 3 some, if it isn’t your style, don’t read (I’ll be less offended if you ignore it than if you read it and get cranky), blowjobs, spanking, man on man kissing, dirty talk, language, teacher kink … let me clarify the reader is 100% of age and consenting to the scene!!!

The boys are helping you pack up your apartment so you can move to the compound up North with them. Natasha is helping you wrap dishes in the kitchen while Steve and Bucky tuck your clothes into suitcases from your closet. Classic rock plays throughout, windows open letting fresh air flow, and you can hear Sam bickering with the spiderling about what order to pack your furniture into the moving truck. Nat hands you another champagne flute from the top rack when you hear Bucky call your name.

“Y/N! When did you get all these shirts?! You literally wear 3! And since when do you wear so many shoes???” He yells from the closet, tossing your stuff at Steve, who patiently chuckles and sets them down in his organized fashion.

“It’s called variety, Buck, you’re not a woman on undercover missions. I need options!” You chirp back at him and set the wrapped plate into the box.

Bucky continues to mutter over your items and sighs happily when he can finally see the other side wall of the closet. Only 2 hangers left to go, he thinks gratefully. He grads an aged, faded green hoodie with your university logo and puts it to his nose so he can soak up your scent on it. Your choice fabric softener and hints of your favorite perfume, Black Opium, waft through and he thinks fondly of how much he loves those scents. Tossing the top to his best man, Bucky grabs at the last hanger. Huh, never seen this skirt before, he thinks while holding it up to the light.

“Hey Stevie, have you ever seen her wear this? Looks awful small for mission gear.” Bucky aims the skirt at Steve, giving it a gentle shake for dramatic effect.

“No, Buck, can’t say I have. You know what it reminds me of though? Those uniforms they used to wear at the all girls school across the road from the park back in Brooklyn.” Steve looks from the clothing to his boyfriend suggestively.

“Oh yeah! Those nuns sure kept the girls in line, remember the stories Dot and Molly would tell us about the rulers and paddles? Shit today that’s corporal punishment!” Bucky pulls the skirt off the hanger and folds it, placing the garment in your overnight bag rather than the suitcase.

“You gonna do something with that?” Steve nods to the new addition to your bag.

“Just gonna ask a question later is all Stevie.” Bucky winks at his partner and smiles.

Later that evening, the apartment is signed away and no longer your monster to manage, and the three of you are celebrating the next step in your relationship and life with your men. Lounging on the couch between them, your back against Steve and your legs curled up on top of Bucky’s, sipping a whiskey coke. Steve reaches to your chin and tips it up to place a chaste kiss on your lips, while Bucky rubs up and down your calves softly. You return his peck by sliding your tongue across his teeth, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. As he obliges, he lets his hands drift around your waist to rub your breasts and knead at the full flesh.

In your lustful haze, you hear Bucky speak up. “So where in hell did a good Catholic student learn how to kiss like that? I’m pretty sure they didn’t teach you how to moan like that in school princess.” His eyes are dark with desire and he rests his hands on your knees, locking them in place. You turn your eyes away from one man to the other, bewildered and slightly warm.

“What do you mean Bucky?” You ask with genuine uncertainty. Regardless of the commentary, your arousal grows with the ministrations from both your lovers.

“Well see doll, we did a little research today while you were unpacking. Shield likes to keep full files, and boy was it satisfying to learn that our sweet girl was an innocent little catholic school student. Went to church twice a week and everything.”

Steve whispers in your ear while rubbing a nipple between his fingers.

“And what better detail to find than your old uniform hanging in the closet. Blue is really our favorite color princess.” Bucky adds while snaking his vibranium hand up the inside of your thigh. He ghosts a finger across the seam of your panties, and gives them a quick snapping tug.

You turn to hide your head in the couch cushions, an attempt to cover the blush spreading across your cheeks. They weren’t supposed to find it! How could you slip up with that , as a SHIELD agent??! That fantasy was to remain deeply hidden.

“Don’t hide princess, we want to see that face when Steve tells you what happens next.” Bucky continues working your mound with his metal arm while he previews the future of the evening.

“Now sweet girl, you are going to go upstairs and open your overnight bag. You are to strip out of these clothes, put on the items in there, NOTHING else. Understand me?” Steve’s voice drops an octave as his mind shifts toward his dominant state.

“When you’re ready, I want you to sit at the desk, ready for the bell to ring.” Bucky adds his request as you nodded toward the blonde.

You swing your legs off the couch, palms sweaty with the anticipation of fulfilling the fantasy of defilling such a symbol of purity and innocence. As you turn away from your boyfriends and head to complete your task, each man takes a palm to your ass and smiles. You yelp, and scurry to the bedroom to find your drag bag placed at the foot of the bed. With shaking hands you peel the zipper apart to pull out your wardrobe. A white button down blouse, white ankle socks, the soon to be defamed plaid skirt, and the most ridiculously padded fire engine red bra you’d ever seen. With a chuckle, you peel off one layer of clothes and begin re dressing with the second. Not knowing how much time you have until the “class” begins, you hastily throw your hair into a ponytail and slap a little lip stain on before sliding into the large desk chair and crossing your ankles.

Moments later, you hear heavy boots scuff the floor and the stairs creak under the weight of two super soldiers. Your thoughts drift to dirty places and you imagine seeing bucky’s vibranium hand slide under the skirt while Steve massages your flushed and heavy tits through the top half of your given uniform. A shrill school bell pierces your thoughts and a heavy thud from the door forces your eyes up.

“Now who do we have here? Looks like Miss Y/L/N was sent in for a dress code violation. Mr. Rogers, would you please identify the specifics on why you have sent this young lady to my office?” Bucky looks you up and down as if he were stalking his prey.

Steve looks over his reading glasses and gives you a once over. “Well Mr. Barnes, this young lady clearly has no respect for the rules. I guarantee that skirt is far too short, bet you can see her backside if she stands up.” He begins to circle you as well, and pulls at your blouse. “This shirt is practically transparent, I’d say that’s a bra redder than a sunburn on the Fourth of July.” He grabs a strap and allows it to snap sharply back against your shoulder.

Bucky reaches out to you, asking for your hand. “Now young lady, I am a pretty lenient man, but disrespecting the code of conduct is an inexcusable offense. Mr.Rogers didn’t even mention that lipstick you have on. I happen to know for a fact your lips are not that shade of plum.” He swipes a thumb across your lips to smear the stain. “I think we should allow him to assist in your punishment since he had to leave his duties to discuss this with us.”

“I haven’t used a ruler on this one yet, will that suffice Mr.. Barnes ? She looks a bit delicate for much else.” Steve comes up behind you and begins to caress your thighs, not yet going past the skirt.

“I think a palm should get the point across rather eloquently, perhaps 10?.” Bucky keeps hold of your hand and reaches for your other to pull you close to him.

Steve releases your legs and allows Bucky to take you away. With his vibranium hand, Bucky pulls you to the opposite side of the desk, and leans you across it bringing your chest flush against the mahogany. As he releases your hands he whispers in your ear. “Now princess, I want you to count them and just maybe this will be your punishment for not telling us about your dreams sooner.”

Your thighs clench as a wave of wetness rushes through you, and your breath comes in pants as you hear the pair of them come to face each other over you. Bucky grabs your hands again, and brings them together in front of you so he can hold you down, while Steve runs a hand up your legs and slots one of his between your knees.

“I knew this tight ass couldn’t hide under that skirt, such a bad girl princess,” Steve says as he pushes the skirt over the globes and gives each one a squeeze. “Damn Bucky, can you tell how turned on she is? Dripping all over the place, ready to cum still all dressed up.” He continues kneading your backside while ignoring your moans and wiggling frame.

“Wait til you’ve finished her punishment, bet she’ll be ripe and sweet like a peach for us to taste Stevie.” Bucky growls as he pushes you back down onto the table.

Distracted by Bucky’s words and touch, you nearly miss the sound of air moving as Steve’s palm cuts through it toward your ass. You Yelp again, and whimper at the prospect of not sitting for a week. Bucky taps on your shoulder, reminding you of your duty. “What did I ask you to do princess? Are you going to be a good girl and count for us?”

“Yes, One Sergeant.” You groan out the count.

Another smack comes down to the same spot, right above the crest of your cheek. You gasp into the desk and suck in a breath from the sting. “Two Sergeant.”

Steve continues doling out your punishment to your backside, by the time he hits nine tears are welling in your eyes from the sting and pleasure building in you. Your legs are shaking with effort from standing and your voice is wrecked from garbled use.

“Ten, Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You whisper after Steve finishes his smacks and begins to rub the marks in soothing circles.

“Good job princess, you did that so well, now it’s time for your reward.” Bucky releases your arms and Steve pulls you up from the desk, the pair of them sandwiching you between them as you all move toward the bed. Your blouse is pulled over your head between frantic kisses with Steve, while Bucky strips his clothes. As they switch positions, you go to unzip the skirt and wrap your legs around Bucky, but he catches your hand and yanks it behind your back.

“Who said you were allowed to take that off? Class is in session, and you must be ready to learn.” His eyes glow with desire as he leans in to kiss you.

Once Steve has rid himself of his clothes, he returns to the bed and comes to lay behind you as Bucky sits you up. “Today’s lesson princess, is the art of how to keep sucking while you cum.” Steve is stroking his member while watching your eyes roll shut with want as he explains the plan to you. Bucky houses you forward into Steve’s chest and pulls your backside to him.

“Damn Stevie, those handprints won’t be gone for a week. She’ll have to find a softer surface to sit on.” He admires his boyfriend’s handiwork while getting his girl set. With your head down and ass up, Bucky slides his flesh hand between your thighs and begins to run two fingers along the outside of your slit. Using your arousal to coat his fingers, Bucky pushes two inside you and begins to work them slowly. He picks up speed as you begin moaning and looks up at his partners nodding to Steve to fill you from the other end.

As Bucky’s fingers move against your walls with vigor, you moan and writhe seeking out more friction on your clit. Steve takes the opportunity to place his hard cock against your open lips, and waits for you to begin sucking. No motivation needed, you lean into his groin and take him in one swallow. Moving your head back and forth, you swirl your tongue against the shaft, and as Bucky adds a third finger to your pussy, you let a moan vibrate through your body, sending a secondary shiver through Steve as well. You relax your jaw and allow Steve to begin fucking into your mouth as his own release builds, the sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans driving him wild with want. Bucky withdraws his fingers and reaches under you to lift you higher onto your knees. With this motion, Steve lifts into a kneel of his own and makes eye contact with his boyfriend. You pay them no mind as greedily sucking down your boyfriend's dick takes precedence and the prospect of getting fucked by the other makes you giddy with anticipation.

Bucky grabs a fistful of your skirt and slams your ass into his hips, setting your pussy ablaze with the slide of his thick curved cock against your walls. You groan against Steve’s painfully hard member, and before you can take him all he grabs your ponytail and pulls you off. Bucky’s brutally fast and deep pace has you close to the crest and Steve wants you to remember the rule of the scene.

“What did we say about today princess, you need to be able to keep sucking my cock while Bucky makes you come. Don’t stop, go it?” He wraps his hand in the ponytail and as you nod he allows you to take him in your mouth again.

Bucky’s thrusts are getting frantic as he chases everyone's peaks, and he reaches his vibranium hand to your clit while grabbing Steve with his opposite hand to pull him in for a hard kiss. Both men are panting as they pound into you from both sides, a hand touching each body as your body grows tight with the desire to orgasm. Bucky pinches your pearl and he tells you to come, giving a final hard thrust as he feels your walls clench around him. Like a rubber band, you snap into oblivion, no longer aware of what occurs beyond the throbbing in your pussy and the perfect fullness that surrounds you. You feel the waves of pleasure crash through you, and still both men continue their chase. Hypersensitive and fuzzy, you relax your jaw again and take Steve all the way to the hilt, and you bob your head quickly, sealing your lips around his large base trying to finish him off. Bucky’s thrusts have gone shallow as your walls have him locked like a vice, but you feel him begin to shatter as well. With a final thrust from both men, they spill into you with heavy grunts.

Bucky pulls out of you and Steve lifts you off his softened member, laying you onto the pillows.

“Did we properly defile the uniform, princess?” Steve kisses your forehead as Bucky pulls the garment off you with a smile.

“Yes Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You nod sleepily, thank each man, and curl into their frames as Bucky climbs under the sheets. “If I had had either of you for teachers, it would have been a shameful garment way sooner,” you chuckle as they share a kiss above you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #stevebucky #steve rogers #steve x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #stucky #smut

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agent-cupcake · 4 years

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just curious, what’s your favorite and least favorite character design? my least fav for sure has got to be female byleth for reasons i don’t want to get in to yep ok have a good day 😁

IOops this accidentally became a rant, sorry

Okay so, to preface this all, I’m not a character designer and I’m actually pretty bad at it, but my rule of thumb with really unappealing or fan-service outfits is whether or not it makes sense character-wise and how much it tells the player about the character. For example, I think we can all agree that there’s quite a bit of fan-service elements in Hilda’s design. Boob window. However, it’s not unrealistic to imagine Hilda picking out those clothes for herself. Her costume tells you almost everything you need to know about her character on a visual level. She’s confident, pretty, attention-grabbing, and high maintenance while the gloves and laced girdle give a nod to her Viking-maiden roots.

Taking it to female Byleth, I don’t think that her outfit works on either front. Her design is definitely my least favorite and it’s not helped by the fact that you have to look at her at all times. Whatever. The huge, solid mass of boobs, the buttoned bib, the big eyes, the feather hair, the bellybutton, the ripped tights, the booty shorts. She’s a merc out in life and death situations with an accessible, pale, tacky 2000′s “stab me” stomach cut out and a wedgie. Which could be excusable if, like Hilda, there was reason to believe that that her costume was character choice. But she doesn’t really have much character, and what there is gives the impression of a very stoic, dry, blunt person. I have no idea why they’d have gone that route when the sexual appeal of more “utilitarian” costuming (aka, form fitting armor that at least pretends to be functional) for characters like her is scientifically proven AND would say more about the singular personality trait she possesses. Okay, well, I know why they didn’t do that and I think it’s lame. This dysfunction of “character designer wanted a sexy girl but it’s kinda random and just shoved in the game without any thought” actually reminds me a lot of Xenoblade 2′s leading ladies, Hikari and Pyra. Although considering that their bad designs led to a lot of people hating the game for superficial reasons while accepting female Byleth’s design, I guess I’m just bitter. Jumping to a different comparison, then, look at 2B from Nier Automata. Her design is fine as hell which is kinda hypocritical of me considering that it's explicitly fan-service, but I think it also shows the most damning thing for female Byleth. Her whole look, despite having a dozen different element thrown in, is boring. Maybe it’s the colors (dressing her in all black and white would have been really interesting considering the colors of the three lords are so heavily emphasized as a part of their characters) or maybe it’s just the way the desperate elements come together. But, like I said, I'm not even slightly knowledgeable about character design and I know that despite Three Houses being mostly separate, they had to appeal to a larger aesthetic brand to which I have little experience with. And, ultimately, a lot of people find her cute or sexy which...To each their own, I suppose. I don’t pretend that fan-service doesn’t work on me (2B... Cloud’s arms in the remake... Seph's shirtless Smash skin...) but when it’s this obviously inserted in by the character designers rather than feeling organic in any way AND looks bad I'm just not super interested.

The other worst designs for me would be all four of the Ashen Wolves post timeskip. I don't think it's controversial to say that they didn't try with the clothes, even if I love their designs from the neck up (Yes, even Balthus. He looks like the type of guy that would let you sit on his shoulders at a rock concert so you could see the stage). While there are other designs I think are unappealing, those are for purely aesthetic reasons and so I can't maintain the opinion that they're actively bad or that I even truly dislike them.

As for favorite looks... I actually have a few so sorry you're getting all of them because despite the shit I'm talking, I actually really really love the character designs in Three Houses.

Ferdinand's post timeskip is one of my favorite designs, if not my favorite. The hair, the coat, the armor, the spurs, the colors. You know exactly who Ferdinand von Aegir is just by looking at him. He’s wealthy, handsome, confident in his appearance, a hero, a princely type character, his battle form is mounted combat which is traditionally aesthetically reserved for nobility and leaders... I love it. The only reason I cannot say he IS my favorite is because of the three Lords. But before them, my honorable mentions include post timeskip Hilda, Dorothea, Lorenz, Felix, and Hubert. Granted, I could make a case for why I like almost all of the student’s post timeskip looks.

For the Lords, I obviously have to start with colors because, weirdly enough, Persona didn’t invent primary colors but are actually used as shorthand. Blue is the color of honor, loyalty, sincerity, sadness, and depression. Something I’ve always found very interesting is that blue is very rarely found in nature. To me, that’s always made it seem more lonely which, at least in this case, is thematically relevant. People call Dimitri boring pre timeskip and while I won’t defend his hairstyle (okay, actually, I probably would because he tucks it behind his ears and idk why but that’s one of the cutest things ever) I really like how unassuming he is. Bland. He’s supposed to be the plain shortbread cookie to caramel deLite Claude and strawberry meringue Edelgard. It is not in his character to draw attention to himself or stand out. To me, he kinda looks like an old Barbie prince, like he should have been named Dominic. Also I love the blue eyes/blonde hair thing and his more angular features. It really helps to sell him as the fakeout chivalrous prince type. Post timeskip, Dimitri's black armor is amazing. I love the fact that it’s a lot more intricate up-close with the different little shell-like pieces and the fact that his boots are furry. I love the big cape and the black and white fur around his shoulders. It’s really cool how they used his costume to change the shape of his in-game model to match the bodily proportions of the character art. It’s easier to see when you change his costume into the DLC ones, but the fur and cape build up his shoulders and chest look more broad while keeping that tiny little waist. The choice to give Dimitri an eyepatch is probably my favorite thing about this design. It’s genuinely inspired. Such a simple detail yet it tells the player everything they need to know about adult Dimitri when they see him post timeskip, in one frame the player can begin to understand the extent of his loss over the past five years. The subtle shadow under his eye in the first few Azure Moon chapters and the messy long-ish hair really help to sell the feral prince aesthetic as well, as it’s from those small cues the player gets that he’s exhausted (in more ways than one) and doesn’t maintain himself. None of these things are intentional choices by Dimtiri, they’re the result of what his character has been through.

Yellow is an intense, energetic color. Mostly, people think of it as being warm and inviting, the color of the sun and positivity. That intensity can be overwhelming, though, too visually demanding when compared to its primary counterparts. Don’t stare at the sun too long. Buuuut, it’s okay to stare at Claude. Claude not wanting to wear tight pants in either of his costumes is not only a mood, it is iconic. Pre timeskip, the softer lines of his silhouette makes him look kinda slouchy, kinda lazy. Like he’s not too concerned with appearances. But those adorably messy curls, the little braid, the clearly tended eyebrows, and earring make it clear that he DOES care about appearances and is very aware of his allure. And that’s before he even starts winking. It is honestly so in character that as many people picked him first on the basis of being thirsty, that feels like an intentionally Claude thing even if it was inserted by the designers. The contrast of his complexion with his seagreen eyes is gorgeous and instantly adds a kind of mystery and intrigue to him considering the setting... but it’s sf funny that nobody looked at bronze god Claude among a sea of white faces and thought something was up. Post timeskip, they used the same trick like they did with Dimitri to change Claude’s in-game model to match his canon appearance. The way they designed his uniform makes him not look as twink-ish, like he’s actually muscular and imposing and has the strength he’d need to shoot a war bow with a 120lbs draw weight. Also like Dimitri, you can instantly tell what Claude’s been up to. Like, he was very pretty pre timeskip but when he shows up in the Goddess Tower after those five years in all that gold, he demands your attention. Like a gentleman general with the excessive aesthetic ideals of the Alliance and details to imply his heritage. The quilted pants are amazing from both an aesthetic and practical standpoint. He’s a mounted unit riding a creature with scales, of course he’d want something on his legs for protection. And the chinstrap. I love that so much, it definitely makes him look more adult. He’s got such a cute soft baby face, it’s fun imagining him experimenting with different styles during the five years to get the most desired physical reaction to him as a leader.

Frenchfries, meet forehead. No, actually, Edelgard’s design is really fantastic. Claude and Dimitri both have realistically colored eyes and hair and then there’s Edelgard. Dimitri shrugs off attention physically and Claude shirks it with a wink but Edelgard commands the players attention from the very start. Although I’m sure there’s a lot of things to associate with white hair and purple eyes, my first thought was Daenerys from Game of Thrones. Otherworldly beautiful by with an edge. Red, of course, is The power color. Strong emotions, love and hate. Red is also associated strongly with blood, which is very important to Edelgard’s plot. Granted, I think the red and black association is even more powerful than JUST red and red is the cheapest play to make in regards to displaying villainy (I mean, there are some pretty universally recognized associations with red and black and it led to people making some unfair comparisons between Edelgard and a famous dictator) but I think it was effective and well used and I genuinely enjoy its use in her case. Anyway, if I had a major complaint about her design it would be the weird ashy color of her hair whereas Lysithea’s hair is pure white. Which doesn’t even matter with the AMAZING hair horns. Ram horns can actually symbolize quite a few things, but their association with power and strength is pretty universal I think. They’re also used in demonic imagery. I love that THIS was her alternative to a crown. Edelgard views herself as a force of war and power before she thinks of herself as royalty. She also mentions that she isn’t super vain, but she loves to do her hair, so the hair being the most elaborate part of her look is entirely in-character. Edelgard’s ensemble is, like Claude, very militaristic. I love that they kept her in a dress that embraces femininity without showing skin as that wouldn’t really suit her Also, again, Edelgard demands your attention. She’s dressed all in bright bright red waving around a giant axe. She is a symbol as much as she is a combatant, someone to follow. I didn’t really mention their secondary lord costumes, but a girl in sexy armor is literally everything and I love that they had the balls to put their main sexy waifu girl in full body armor.

Okay I’m sorry I realize this was excessive and probably didn’t need explaining and I’m not sure I even articulated my thoughts properly but anyway I love their designs so here is the positivity I’ll put into the world.

#fe3h #ferdinand von aegir #claude von riegan #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #haha i htae byleths design this was all just to justify my abject disgust for the way she looks #nobody sent me anything about dimitri's dick so this is what i've been reduced to

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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A note for Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream

Do I feel awful doing this, yes.

Am I still doing it, god yes.

This post contains a series of photos relevant to the upcoming chapter of Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream. I was going to link them in the author’s note, but as these links are all to online stores they’ll be taken down sooner or later. Better to post in image form on tumblr.

Without further ado, click the readmore if you want fashion eyesores.

So, I think I spoil nothing when I say that Jane and Alec are going to have to pass as Cullens in the next chapter. Carlisle, too, is desperately trying to dress like it’s a normal day for normal people who aren’t about to collectively fake their own deaths.

Naturally I asked myself exactly what these poor people are going to wear. One thing led to another, I consulted the fandom ghost, and we put our heads together. Three rules, and three rules only: one, it has to be pale. If it’s beige it’s probably too dark. Two, it has to be high end, but the high end for high end’s sake kind of high end (Jane was almost put in designer fake riding clothes because of this). Three, it has to be Alice.

Apart from that, no rules, no mercy, no God.

In the end we had something words can’t even describe.

Literally.

I can’t describe this with words in the fic. I’ll try, but the only way to properly convey the full awful of what Alec, Jane, and Carlisle have to wear in the upcoming chapter is to show you guys photos.

(Also, yes, I know that for Jane and Alec I used no children’s collections, but the children’s fashion lines I found just weren’t Alice enough. This jacket, for instance (not putting photo, but it’s a vintage rose pink, white collar quilted barbour jacket for girls) would make Jane set herself on fire but it doesn’t have that quintessentially Cullen something.)

Alec

Jacket: Dior raincoat, beige color.

Picture 12-year-old Alec in this, in public, and tell me he doesn’t wish those humans in 800 AD finished the job.

Sweater: V-necked Ralph Lauren polo sweater, cream color.

I’m sure the poor boy is using his gift on himself to numb the sartorial agony of wearing this.

Trousers: Prada technical wide-leg pants.

Nevermind faking his death, this kid wants to die for real so long as he’s sporting these.

Shoes: Salvatore Ferragamo desert boot, suede walnut.

As of these shoes, Alec’s sporting the brightest pop of color in the crew. Good on you, Alec, except not good on you because you’re wearing these shoes.

Jane

Jacket: Barbour Elizabeth quilted jacket, cream color.

Sweater: Tommy Hillfiger ivory turtleneck.

This is starting to feel like child abuse. Tucked into the skirt, of course.

Skirt: Saks Fifth Avenue Donna Karan skirt with a belt.

Of course it’s a khaki skirt. Sorry, Jane.

Shoes: Tory charm two-tone loafers.

I was gonna go for tory burch, but these bad boys felt like they were created solely to hurt fictional child vampires.

Accessories:

1: Chanel headband.

Look at those sly C’s forming a pattern, just in case you were worried people wouldn’t realize your child’s headband was in fact stupidly expensive designer. Can be yours for the small price of $600!

2: Louis Vuitton hobo dauphine.

We were done, but I thought I could hurt her just a bit more. Landed on this.

Carlisle

Coat: Hugo Boss beige trench coat with belt.

Chosen in part because the model’s face is how I too would feel wearing that.

Sweater: Oversized Tommy Hillfiger ivory turtleneck.

In a desperate attempt to look Related™ to Jane, he wears a matching sweater to hers. Also, sorry I couldn’t find a better link. But hey, model’s got that pretending he’s not dead inside look on his face like the camera team taking this photo, the designers who created the sweater, the agent who got him this gig, he’s never forgiving any of them.

Trousers: White Tom Ford brushed straight-leg trousers.

One of my kidneys shrivelled up and died when the ghost sent me this. Hoping I never see anybody wear it in life because that could very well spell my end.

Shoes: Bruno Culcinelli chelsea boots, suede sand.

Good news is this is the last one, bad news is your eyes are seeing this.

Funny how none of these people are real, yet I feel like I owe them all an apology.

If you can think of something even more awful I want to hear it. Drop it in the notes, and if your suggestion makes me want to kill someone then in the chapter it goes.

As for when the next chapter comes out, since I just dropped a massive teaser I’ll try to have it out as soon as possible. Within a week or so, but let’s shoot for the end of the weekend.

#long post #my fic #twilight fic #nebuchadnezzar's dream #tw bad fashion #found a lot of clothes for edward when i was searching #in particular one set of prada pants that... yeah alice would buy that for him #they were slightly transparent while trying to be sporty #just- god. so cullen

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sithsecrets · 4 years

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love in three acts | din djarin x reader

three acts of love between the mando and his one and only crew member.

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1.7k words

mentions: nightmares/night terrors, pining, piv sex, a bit of fluff but also a bit of spice to make things interesting, NSFW!

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You’re not sure what wakes you initially, but you do know for certain that it’s the whimpering and the crying that gets you out of bed. You think it might be the baby at first— he wakes up hungry on occasion— but then you realize that all the fuss is coming from Mando’s bunk, not the Child’s pram.

Sitting up on your little pallet, you force to listen closely in the darkness just incase you’re mistaken. But no, you can still hear it, the crying the babbling and the pleading. You’re up at once after that, rushing to the other side of the room as quick as you can. Mando fell asleep with the panel open and his armor on, thank the Maker, so you don’t hesitate to check on him. He twitches and shakes on top of the blanket, distressed in a way unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before. Mando mumbles and cries out, saying ‘no’ over and over again, pleading for what you don’t know.

After three seconds, it dawns on you that Mando’s having a nightmare.

“Mando, wake up,” you say into the darkness, laying your hand on his leg in an attempt to wake him. “Mando, please, it’s me, wake up.”

It’s like the Mandalorian can’t be reached, and you double your efforts, shaking him and raising your voice. “Mando, please,” you call. “It’s not real, you’re on the Crest, you’re—”

The fact that you manage to dodge Mando’s fist is a miracle. You chalk his sloppy aim up to disorientation from sleep and fear, and the action is soon forgotten in your haste to bring Mando back to reality.

“It’s me, it’s me!” you shriek, grabbing Mando by the arms in an attempt to stave off another assault. He’s getting stronger now, fighting more like himself— but just as you begin to fear he can’t be reached, the Mandalorian drops his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, panting like he’s been sprinting for five minutes straight. You hardly acknowledge the apology, more concerned than offended.

“It’s fine,” you say, but Mando barely seems to hear you, still huffing and clenching his fists.

“I just— It’s— I have nightmares sometimes.”

“I can imagine,” you soothe, and you really can. It’s been a rough few months, lots of running and fighting and killing, and even you’re feeling the strain. Mando’s the one on the front lines, though, protecting the baby, hunting bounties…

Minutes pass, and Mando still doesn’t seem very calm. He tells you to go back to bed, but you shake your head, sitting down on the edge of his bunk.

“Come here,” you say softly, almost whispering, even. Mando’s barely visible in the dim light, but the beskar still glints when he tilts his head.

“What?”

It’s by no means boldly done, but you still reach out, laying a hand on Mando’s shoulder. “Come here.”

The armor makes it harder to hold him, but not impossible, and you slip your arms around Mando’s body slowly, deliberately.

After one long, tense moment, a single gloved hand comes up to hold your waist.

It’s been about thirty minutes since you started looking for your boots, and you’re about ready to give up searching. You could’ve sworn you just had them— you made sure to pull them out before Mando made landing on Nevarro— but now they’re just gone. It’s not like they could have run off on their own, and the Crest isn’t exactly some behemoth of a ship. More frustrating than that, you actually need them now. The toe on your right boot blew out a few days ago, and you were hoping to get it repaired before Mando took off after his next quarry. Karga of course has some work for him, and now you’re are due to go to fucking Hoth of all places. The baby and Mando will be fine, but without your boots, all you’ll have in the way of shoes is the little slipper-style things you’ve been wearing to get you through.

Basically, you’re going to lose at least two toes to the cold and it’s going to be your own fault.

Mando comes clanging back up on to the ship, a bag of supplies and the baby in hand. You turn to him the moment he comes into the hull, throwing up your hands in exasperation.

“Mando, have you seen—?”

As if on cue, the Mandalorian produces your boots from his bag, holding them out casually.

“… My boots,” you finish, taking the shoes from his hands as you say this.

“I got them repaired in the bazaar,” Mando tells you, turning away to start unpacking his other purchases. “You’ll need them on Hoth.”

It’s by no means a romantic speech, but the fact that he thought of you at all makes your stomach do a flip.

“I was going to have them done,” you say softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. You do a lot around here, so I thought I could pick up the slack a little.” Mando sneaks at you over his shoulder. “Besides, I don’t want you to be cold.”

Coming from anyone else, these words wouldn’t mean a thing. But coming from Mando…

By no means does it encompass how you feel, but it’s the best you can do: “Thank you.”

Part of you wonders if this is the best place to do this, though you decide it doesn’t matter the minute Mando tugs your pants down your legs.

How you ended up on your back like this you may never know, but what you do know is that you want Mando to fuck you into this shitty motel mattress until you cry for him to stop. And he seems content to do just that, pushing inside you with one quick, harsh movement of his hips.

It knocks the breath of you, the force of those first few thrusts, and you quickly realize that there’s nothing to do but lie there and take whatever Mando gives you. He looms over you in the darkness, almost entirely clothed and clad in all his armor. If he wasn’t fucking you within an inch of your life, this have been one of those moments when you forget that Mando really is human under all the beskar. He’s a man, a man with skin and hair and muscle, and you wish you could just touch him, wish you could clutch onto his bare shoulders instead of the icy pauldrons protecting his body.

Maybe one day, you think to yourself, but just as soon as the thought forms, it goes, whisked away by the changing of the angle. Mando just pushed your knees up closer to your shoulders, and now you feel like you might die and cum all at the same time. And would that really be so awful, to die laid out underneath this man? Your pleasure-addled brain doesn’t have the capacity to offer a definitive answer, but your instincts say no, no, there are far worse ways to perish.

Mesmerized, you watch as Mando pulls at his gloves, his hips never breaking pace as he casts them both aside. Somehow, you find it within yourself to form words, to ask what he’s doing, but you don’t get the chance to so much as open your mouth before Mando himself is speaking.

“This good?” he rasps, voice clipped and haggard like he’s holding himself back. You’re the one who’s been making all the noise this whole time, though you’ve been trying to keep yourself quiet. The baby’s asleep just a few feet away in his pram, and the both of you are in a motel, though the couple in the next room over seems to have no qualms about being heard.

“Mmhm,” you whimper, not daring to take your hand off your mouth for fear you’ll scream. And stars, it is good, it’s so fucking—

“You wanna cum, mesh’la? If I touch you, will you cum for me?”

Maker above, yes—

“Make me cum, please.”

It’s all you have the strength to say, and no one’s more surprised than you when the words come out as a whisper instead of a shout. Mando doesn’t need to be told twice, reaching between the both of you to swipe his thumb over your clit once, twice— You cum so fast and so hard that it’s almost embarrassing, completely lost to the feeling. Your body isn’t your own in that moment, it’s movements ruled by your pleasure with an iron fist. It’s like Mando can sense how gone you are, leaning down to press his helmet against your forehead, shushing you and fucking you through the orgasm so you don’t come out of it feeling deprived. But it’s one thing he does that makes the whole situation feel different, one little command that makes you flush with affection.

“Hold my hand, mesh’la, there you go,” Mando whispers to you, pressing one of his palms against yours. He’s good to hold onto in the moment, grounding you, helping you remember that you aren’t alone even as you go off into another world.

By the time you come back down, Mando’s already pulling out of you, doing up his pants and tugging down the hem of his shirt. You’re not sure you could move if you wanted to, but it looks like Mando’s got that covered, tucking himself behind you without making you so much as scoot over in bed. You think you should say something to him, maybe tell him that he doesn’t have to lie with you like this if he doesn’t feel like it, but once again, Mando’s already there in your head.

“We’ll talk tomorrow on the Crest,” he says to you, whispering through the modulator. “Sleep now, mesh’la, I know you’re tired.”

And though you know your body will ache in the morning, you close your eyes and drift off anyway, soothed by the warmth of Mando’s palm on your stomach.

#my writing #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

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