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itzpris15634 · 11 days

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In the Heights (ft. Russell x Vinnie x Sunil)

Sunil, Vinnie, and Russell revisit some old memories in Russell's childhood treehouse.

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“Say, uh- your treehouse is so cool, Rusty! We should start hanging out here more,” a young Vinnie beamed at his friend seated across him.

“Trying to distract me with compliments so I forget to shout the important word? Not a chance!” Russell glared at Vinnie, before placing down his second-to-the-last card, “UNO!”

“Aw, man, I was looking forward to giving you the shame of having to pick up a few extra cards…” Vinnie said, dealing one of his cards as well.

And with that, Russell placed down his last one, “I win! Gimme the cards you have left so I can count the score.”

“Hnngg- fineee,” Vinnie did so, handing them over in defeat.

"So, I take that you two are done?" Sunil was sitting in the corner of the treehouse. He looked up from the child's magazine he was reading to look at his friends.

"Mhm. And even better, I win!" Russell cheered.

"Not fair!" Vinnie crossed his arms.

"Well, maybe you should have been a bit more strategic."

"How much strategy can I really use? If you want strategy, let's play something else."

"Okay, fine. Do you wanna play Monopoly next time then?"

"…N-nevermind. Let's stick to UNO…"

"Umm…" Sunil stepped between his two friends, "Hey! Uh, I was reading this magazine, and… I found an idea that might be really cool to try!"

"An idea? For what?" Vinnie asked, curiosity piqued.

"You know how we keep growing?"

"I mean, of course. It's a natural part of human life, where we grow and develop our minds and bodies as time goes on-"

"Okay, nerd, we get it," Vinnie interrupted Russell's little monologue.

"Hey! You say nerd as if it's an insult."

"Get to the cool idea, Sunil!!"

"Uh, w-well… Russell, is it okay if we write on the walls of your treehouse?"

"As long as it's easily washable, maybe."

"Would chalk work?"

"Sure."

"Alright! So, I was thinking… what if we marked our heights? And- let's say, every year, we can record how much taller we've gotten!"

"Sunil, that's a genius idea!" Vinnie exclaimed.

"Yeah, we could totally do that! Lemme just go back down to ask my dad for some chalk," Russell said, opening the door to exit the treehouse, and climbing down the ladder.

"Woah. You guys actually want to try the idea?"

"Why not? It sounds fun!" Vinnie said, "You're so smart Sunil, you know?"

Sunil blushed at the compliment, "I-I guess…"

"Found some!" Russell climbed back into the treehouse, a box of chalk in his hand.

"Let's start then!"

The three boys got to work, though not without a few obstacles.

"We'll mark our own spots with the same color as our hair!" Russell declared, bringing out a green chalk from the box, "Vinnie, you can go first. Alright, so, take off your shoes just for a bit, and stand right there… hey, no tiptoeing! There we go. And… done!"

Once all their heights were charted, they took to making observations.

"Hmm… I'd say generally, we're all the same height right now," Russell started, "And differences are minimal."

"So no teasing about who is shortest or tallest?" Sunil asked.

"Nah. Not yet, at least," Vinnie whispered to himself.

"Yet?!" Sunil cried out.

"Hey, you never know! Russell said it during his nerdy rant- we'll keep growing! And what if we don't grow the same amount? Then there's gonna be one of us who's shorter."

"Fair point, Vinnie," Russell said, putting one arm around each of his friends, "Though, I like to think that one day, we'll all grow big and tall!"

"Yeah!!!"

Several years later….

"Well. Introducing our relationship to Jerry went better than I thought!" Vinnie stretched his arms up above his head, feeling the cool breeze of the evening air hit his skin.

Russell and Sunil followed. The three of them found themselves in the backyard of Russell's childhood home.

"I'll say. I felt like I was gonna faint back there..!" Russell put a hand on his forehead, a bit dizzy…

Sunil knelt on the ground and took hold of Russell's back, pressing a little kiss to his cheek, "Russell, relax. It went well! And we're still here, together. We don't have to worry about it anymore."

Russell felt himself smile.

"Th-thank you…"

"Anytime, dearest."

"No, I mean. In general. For everything. And to both of you. Thanks for sticking with me."

"We're your boyfriends, Rusty! You think we wouldn't?" Vinnie bent down to join the hug.

Russell relished in the sensation. Vinnie and Sunil. Love. Warm, fuzzy, happiness…

"Hey, Russell?" Vinnie said, "Can I ask something?"

"Anything."

"The old treehouse… is it safe to go up there?"

"The treehouse?" Sunil asked, "It's been a long time since we've last been in there, don't you think? It might have been worn down by the elements, or…" Sunil shuddered, "…eugh, perhaps bugs have taken over."

"If what my dad said is true, he's been looking after the treehouse all these years. Even though, well, it's been forever since-“

"Good enough for me!" Vinnie said, already climbing up the ladder to the treehouse, "Come on!"

"I- Vinnie! WAIT! WAIT FOR US!"

Sunil and Russell followed right after.

"I know it is the fact that we grew, but it more so feels like this place shrunk…" Sunil said, crawling around the perimeter of the little treehouse. If he stood up at full height, he'd have to bend, which wasn't very comfortable. He'd rather much crawl, in such a case.

Russell and Vinnie were a bit luckier- while Vinnie had to duck a few headboards here and there, he could still walk and stand well enough. Russell could just walk normally like he does anywhere else.

"Your dad wasn't lying when he said he's been taking care of this place… The goddamn electricity still works!" Vinnie repeatedly flicked the light switch, watching as the bulb that hung by the ceiling switched between on and off, on and off, on and-

Russell grabbed Vinnie's hand and pulled it away from the switch, "Please don't do that."

"Okay okay! Sorry."

"Either way- I think my dad moved a lot of the things back into my room in the house-" Russell talked as he approached a toy box in the corner of the treehouse, opening its lid, "-though a few things are still here- Monopoly, surprisingly. And…"

"Oh hey, my UNO deck!" Vinnie reached into the box and grabbed the aforementioned card game. "I was wondering where it went! I knew it was probably somewhere in here."

"Well, that's one happy reunion. Hey, Sunil! Come on, there are a few things we can check out in this box, and- Sunil?"

Sunil was elsewhere- physically and mentally. He was seated in front of one of the walls of the tree house, reminiscing…

"Oh, right. Our little height chart," Russell approached Sunil. He took a seat next to him and leaned on his shoulder, "Been a while, huh?"

"Mhm…" Sunil hummed, "I'm surprised rainwater hasn't washed the chalk away. It looks so fresh and new."

"Like Dad said, he's been taking care of the place. Maybe he redrew over the old lines to keep them looking new?"

"That seems likely."

Vinnie, from behind the two of them, said, "Hey, idea- what if we recorded our heights right now?"

Sunil scoffed, "If you are willing to break the ceiling so I can stand properly? Then sure."

The three of them shared a laugh.

"I don't think it'd be a problem for itty-bitty Rusty over here." Vinnie chuckled.

"Hey! I grew, like, what? One foot? Two?" Russell retorted playfully, "Not that bad, right?"

Vinnie finally took a seat- just next to Russell, leaving Russell sandwich between the two.

"I don't think it matters. You're our Russell, and we like you just the way you are."

Sunil nodded in agreement, "Absolutely."

"Oh? Awww…"

Russell must have done something very good to deserve these two.

===

Day 18: tree house

🎶 I must have done something gooooddd…. 🎶

Aaaaand yeah I think i'll start putting summaries for the fics now.

I intended this to be a platonic thing but whoops my hand slipped I wrote polyboys.

this fic is very specific to my humanizations, since Russell is shown to be the shortest one. not just out of the boys, but like- all of the main 7 lol.

#lps 2012 #fanfic #vinnie terrio #sunil nevla #russell ferguson

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allwaswell16 · 1 year

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Hi! I might have a weird rec request? Is there any larry fic in which Harry or Louis fake dates someone else to end up together? On the idea of “not even the gods above” (lovely fic)? Thanks!!

Hi, anon! I honestly didn't think there would be as many of these as there are so I was just going to find what I could, but then I ended up with ten of them. Whoops! (Also, I looked at all the fics with titles of Not Even the Gods Above and I couldn't find one where there's fake dating? So now I'm super curious which fic you mean...) Happy reading!

-Fake Dating Someone Else Fics-

When The Stars Come Out by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

Louis was about to reassure Harry further when Gemma bounded back over to him, slipping a hand around Louis' waist. Harry’s eyes followed the movement. And then that lip gnaw again. Christ. How was he supposed to survive this weekend?

He turned his attention to Gemma as her palm came to rest right above his heart. Laying it on a bit thick, dear. Or at least that’s what he hoped he’d conveyed with the simple tilt of an eyebrow.

In response, she went up on tiptoes and laid a noisy kiss on the hollow beneath his cheekbone. Louis didn’t take his eyes off Harry, who watched the scene play out with a blank expression. Once Gemma dropped back to the ground, Harry shifted away from them, his gaze dropping to his feet.

[Or the one where Louis pretends to be Gemma's boyfriend for her horrid cousin's wedding but fate is a nasty jerk and throws Harry in his way.]

Back From The Edge by sincewewereeighteen

“Guess my eyes are very blue.” “They are.” Harry agrees easily. “You’ve got beautiful eyes.” “You’re drunker than you think.” Louis snorts. “Why’s that?” “We’ve just met and you said I have beautiful eyes. Only people who are in love say that.” He points. “Maybe I am in love with you.” Harry points back, feeling very smart. Yep. Maybe he is drunker than he thought.

Or: the one in which Harry is a closeted actor who needs to do a PR stunt during his break, only he wasn't counting on falling for his beard's best friend. It gets messy.

Take Me Back to Where We Started by amory

Harry and Louis haven't spoken since they broke up four years ago. As boarding school sweethearts they once spent every waking moment together, but now they can hardly stand to be in the same room. When their five year class reunion comes around, both boys decide against their better judgement to return and (hopefully) have a good time.

The only problem is, they're both still hopelessly in love.

Starring Harry as the petty ex, Louis as the new James Bond, Niall as a boy genius and fake boyfriend extraordinaire, and Liam and Zayn as two friends just trying to make it out of this weekend alive.

Let Our Hearts Collide by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo

“Liam is in a coma.” “Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters. “His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–” “Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!” “How did this happen?” the father demands. “Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up. The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut. “Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him. “Um, I’m Harry–” he starts. “He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door. Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

All Hearts Come Home For Christmas by PinkSeelie

“Gemma, who the fuck is that?” Louis hisses as he watches her wave back with a big smile.

Her brows furrow for a second as she looks at Louis. “What? That’s my brother, you dork. Told you he’d pick us up, didn’t I?”

Well fuck. Apparently, Mr. Handsome over there is Gemma’s brother. And Louis is spending a week with him. Pretending to be his sister’s boyfriend. Shit.

(Basically: Gemma brings ‘her boyfriend’, Louis, home for Christmas and her brother is really hot.)

Harry, Did You Know (that your baby boy, is married to his best friend?) by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix

10 years ago, Louis and Zayn made a pact that if they weren't married by 30, they'd marry each other. So they do, as best mates do. Enter Harry Styles, who's new to town. He and Louis are immediately drawn to one another. Louis doesn't tell Harry about Zayn, because they're just friends (who are married.) Harry finds out on Christmas Day, Louis/Zayn's "anniversary".

aka a marriage pact AU with a twist

Feeling Hazy (In the Ballroom of my Mind) by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

The doors to the ballroom open and violin music fills Harry’s ears, his skin prickling as he tightens his hold on Liam’s arm. All eyes fall on him as he makes his grand entrance next to Lord Payne, Earl of Wolverhampton. According to the media, they’re the couple of the century, but little do they know they’re not really dating. Harry tugs on his collar, the tightness around his neck almost too much. He’ll never get used to being Prince of Cheshire. Not only are wearing his royal garments a pain in the arse, he also hates all of the attention it garners.

There’s only one person’s attention Harry really wants.

Being of the Jealous Kind by zita17 / @louisandtheaquarian

A-list actor Louis Tomlinson and his partner fashion photographer Harry Styles weather the storm that is Louis’ fake relationship with his costar in the lead up to this year’s Academy Awards.

Featuring a fluffy teenage meet-cute, an angsty wine drunk Harry melting down over pap pics, Louis habitually overusing the word “baby,” and cameos by a vintage Umbro sweatshirt, the peace ring, and one hell of a Larry hug.

Or the justice for To Be So Lonely fic. Based on the lyrics to TBSL and a prompt where “Louis has to fake date some celebrity, while his boyfriend Harry sits at home.”

candle wax and polaroids by orphan_account

"I could think of much worse ways, Harry. I look forward to meeting you when you aren't half naked," Louis teased, and Harry swore Louis glanced down at his bare chest.

Harry blushed, watching Louis shut the bathroom door behind him.

And that's how he met his sister's boyfriend.

or, gemma brings her "boyfriend," louis, home for thanksgiving.

Just To See That Smile by homosociallyyours / @homosociallyyours

It's Coming Out Week at university, and Harry's taken on a lot of responsibilities to make everything run smoothly. Finding his roommate's boyfriend attractive is making that a bit difficult, unfortunately. It might help if he realized that said boyfriend (Louis) is really just there to help said roommate (Liam) figure out if Liam's crush (Zayn) likes him back.

But that would make things too easy.

A fic where a hastily faked relationship and a lot of miscommunication almost ruins a perfectly good dance.

#ficrec #fakedating #fake dating someone else #ask #anon #ficask

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alpaca-clouds · 1 year

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Fluffcember Day 12: Evergreens

Day 12 of my Fluffcember. Prompt was Evergreens.

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Genre: Romantic Fluff

Shipping: Perfuma/Scorpia

Length: 1108 words

[Ao3 Link]

Scorpia had never liked the cold, and quite frankly, she was freezing her stinger off right now. But for Perfuma… Well, there was a lot Scorpia would do for Perfuma. So, she allowed her friend to drag her through the snow on the mountain top, they were observing, had allowed her to drag her along even blindfolded. Oh, this really was a recipe for disaster, she had to note. After all Scorpia knew she could be kind of clumsy at times. She really did not mean it, but she could break things quite easily.

Hence, she was quite tense, while Perfuma's hands lay warm on her claws. She could hear the princess giggle was well. “It’s not far anymore.”

“That's good,” Scorpia muttered and could not quite hide her tenseness from her voice.

“Are you cold?” Instantly Perfuma was worried.

“No, no. It is fine. Don't worry about me.”

“Okay.” The wide smile was even audible in her voice. Really, Perfuma was like the warmest person, Scorpia had ever known. Even up here on the mountain she seemed to radiate warmth with every smile, every gesture, every word. It was something that Scorpia could not help but adore, as she never could be that warm, really. But what did she know either way? She had spent so long with the Horde, that it was a miracle she was not more messed up. Well, maybe she was actually more messed up than she knew?

“We are here!” Perfuma announced. “You can take the blindfold off!”

Easier said than done, as Scorpia almost took her own eye out with her pincers. In the end she felt those warm and soft hands on the sides of her face, as Perfuma tiptoed to help her.

When Scorpia could see again, she looked into those radiating dark eyes, as Perfuma smiled at her. “Look at them!” She gesticulated around them.

By now Scorpia knew the other princess well enough that she instantly knew what she was talking about. They were standing in a small forest of still green trees, their branches covered in snow – glistening in the slowly setting sun. “How are they still green?”

Perfuma admired those tall trees. Once more her hand found Scorpia's claw. “Because they are evergreens! They have evolved in such a way that the cold cannot harm them. The water won't freeze inside their needles!”

So, they might be better evolved for the cold than Scorpia was. Really, she wondered why she had agreed to come along on this little mission – looking for some ruins, that might or might not reveal some more secrets of Etheria's past – as she knew the cold did not speak to her. “Quite impressive,” she admitted.

“I know, right?” Perfuma's eyes were sparkling with joy. She carefully grabbed one of the lower hanging branches, sniffing it. “And they smell so good, don't you think?”

Scorpia had to bow down to sniff at it as well. “Yes.” There was a strange, but intensive smell on those needles. Very soothing in fact. “They smell quite…” She did not get to finish her sentence, as in the next moment Perfuma's lips were pressed against hers, making Scorpia blink in confusion.

It took her a moment to understand. This was a kiss. She had seen others do it. It was just that nobody has ever kissed her. Why was Perfuma kissing her?

When their lips broke apart, Perfuma's cheeks were glowing red, making Scorpia wonder if she might've caught a fever. “I am sorry,” Perfuma whispered. “I just… could not resist.”

Once more Scorpia found herself blinking. “It is okay. I guess.” She felt a strange tingling in her stomach. A tingling she felt from time to time when she was around Perfuma. Though she really could not place it. “Uhm…” Could she just ask, what was up with it?

“Oh no…” Perfuma whispered, as her gaze became suddenly concerned. “Oh no.”

This did worry Scorpia as well. “What is it? Perfuma?”

“I did misunderstand you, I fear,” Perfuma whispered and averted her gaze. “I am so, so sorry. Scorpia, I did allow myself to get carried away.”

This was getting confusing, really. “I… It is okay. I am…” She stared at the other princess. “What is happening?”

There was a single tear in Perfuma's eyes, which she quickly tried to hide. For some reason she seemed to be distressed and Scorpia really, really did not understand what was going on. Had she done something wrong?

“I just thought…” Perfuma shook her head, her breath shaky. “I just thought you might like me as well. I am sorry.”

Yes. Confusing was the right word. “But I do like you, Perfuma! Of course I like you! You are so sweet and…”

But once more the princess of Plumeria shook her head. “I mean, like-like. Romantically. As in love.” And suddenly her eyes were not as warm as before, making Scorpia's heart feel so strange.

Romantic like. Love. That was the thing Adora and Catra had. Or Glimmer and Bow. It seemed to be a nice thing, though it really was not a thing they had ever spoken about at the Horde. Love. Was this strange tingling feeling in her chest love? Oh no! She did not know! Why had she not talked with anyone about it? Maybe Glimmer could've explained this to her! Now she was standing here, like a big idiot, grasping for words. She did not want to do wrong. She did not want to hurt Perfuma.

“I…” What was she supposed to say? “Perfuma, I do like you. I really do. I just… I have not learned about love. I…” She sighed. “Perfuma, when I am with you, I do feel kinda strange at times. Like I can't breath anymore and do not quite know… Uhm. There is this strange tingling, right here.” She pointed at her chest. “It almost feels like falling. And… I don't know? Is that love?”

Now Perfuma was staring at her. “I…” There was this sudden redness on her cheeks again. “I…” She giggled nervously. “It might be,” she then whispered. “I think it might be.” But she sighed. “But maybe I am just wishing.”

Scorpia took her hands ever so carefully with her pincers. “Maybe… Maybe we can find out?”

Perfuma smiled again, though this time her smile was surprisingly shy. “How do you suppose to do that?”

“Uhm.” Scorpia paused for a moment. “We could try what you just did again. The kiss?”

Another little giggle, as Scorpia bend down to Perfuma. “I guess we might,” she then whispered, pressing her lips against Scorpia's once more.

#fluffcember #fluff #romance #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power fanfic #she ra fanfic #sapphic #scorpia #perfuma #perfuma x scorpia #lesbians

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

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Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

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The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she��s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x

PART 4

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone #the darkling fanfiction

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

Could I please request a drabble with Mace meeting Jaster? Time travel shenanigans would be loved and heart-eyed, but are not required.

“A Jedi is hiring a Mandalorian for a job?” Jaster asks, one brow raised, and can't help the thread of incredulity that creeps into his voice. “Perhaps you're confused, Jetii, but our people have been enemies for millennia.”

“I'm well aware,” the Jedi says, unmoving. Jaster has, admittedly, never been quite this close to a Jedi, and he can't help but be faintly impressed at the man’s stoneface, particularly given the bright-eyed Chalactan girl peering around his side. Her hands are hooked into his sash without any apparent fear of being shaken off, or any apparent concern for her Master’s dignity, and Jaster finds himself reluctantly amused despite the man’s temerity.

“Oh?” Jaster asks, leaning back in his chair. His blaster is within easy reach, and the Jedi is far enough away that Jaster has the advantage. “Bold of you to approach me with a job offer, then.”

“Is it?” the man asks, and reaches up, folding his hood back. Jaster stills, startled, because he hadn’t thought there were Korun Jedi—Myles has always been very insistent that the Korun people have their own Force traditions, and outsiders aren’t welcome to step into them. He’s a handsome one, too, tall and broad shouldered, with a lean strength to him that even the loose, comfortable robes can't hide. Steady, he meets Jaster's eyes, and says, low, “It seems to me, Mand’alor, that our status as enemies means no one will suspect me of having hired you.”

Ah, Jaster thinks, smiling. Like that, is it. He hums, then says, “Jango, who don’t you show this lovely padawan the gardens? I'm sure she would like to see them.”

“What?” Jango demands, outraged the way only a fourteen-year-old can be. “Buir, I'm not leaving—”

Jaster levels a pointed look at his son, and his mouth snaps shut. He scowls, deep and affronted, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be meeting with a Jedi alone,” he says grumpily. “Myles is going to yell at you.”

“Myles will survive,” Jaster says, though it’s likely true. “Master Jedi, I hope you don’t object to speaking privately.”

“Of course not,” the Jedi says, perfectly calm, and glances down at his padawan. “Depa. Be polite.”

That is, Jaster reflects wryly, an incrediblyfamiliar tone of voice. He’s willing to bet the girl gets herself into almost as much trouble as Jango, given how practiced it sounds.

And, on cue, the girl beams up at her Master without hesitation. “I'm always polite, Master Mace,” she protests, perfectly, wickedly innocent. Mace doesn’t answer, just sighs, and Depa laughs, rising up on her tiptoes. She hauls him down, no thought given to dignity, and plants a loud, showy kiss on his cheek, then hops back two steps and turns that smile on Jango, who freezes like he was just dipped in carbonite, his eyes going wide.

She is, Jaster thinks with amusement, a very pretty girl. He wonders how quickly Jango will manage to stick his foot in his mouth this time. Within ten minutes, judging by last time. Jaster doesn’t precisely have high hopes for their interaction, but at least this isn't the daughter of a high-profile client that Jango is going to offend. The Jedi needs them, not the other way around, and given Jedi morals, he likely won't turn to the Death Watch the instant he’s insulted.

“Depa,” Mace says, a warning, but Depa ignores it, grinning at Jango and folding her hands behind her.

“I would love to see the garden,” she says cheerfully. “Jango, was it?”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, only a little mulishly, and takes a careful step forward, like he’s worried she’s going to bite him. “It’s this way, I guess.”

He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried. Jaster rather suspects he is.

As the door slides shut behind their two witnesses, though, Jaster's amusement fades slightly, and he turns his gaze on Mace, narrow and thoughtful as he considers the man, his presence on Mandalore, the quiet, entirely understated way he arrived.

“This isn't a mission from the Jedi Order,” he says, weighing. “I might even go so far as to say they have no idea of your presence here.”

“They don’t,” Mace says bluntly. “I'm here on my own business, and acting on information the Jedi Council isn't privy to.” There's a pause, and then a rueful curve just touches one corner of his mouth. “Believe me, Mand’alor. I do not go behind the Council’s back easily. This is vital, and I'm willing to provide the funds to prove it.”

Jaster smiles, a little humorless, a little thin. He’s not fond of being played, and this sounds very much like Mace is trying. “I have plenty of credits, Master Jedi. Why should I find yours any more appealing than anyone else’s?”

Mace doesn’t hesitate this time, just raises his chin. “Because I have something that is far more valuable than credits,” he says calmly. “I can provide you with information.”

It is, Jaster will admit, a tempting prospect, but he’s still wary. “Jedi information? Access to the Archives, perhaps? If I wanted dry Jedi tomes on political law—”

“No,” Mace interrupts, flat, and takes two steps forward, until he’s right across Jaster's desk. “Far more important and immediate information. Such as the name of the traitor who will kill you. And the location of Jango Fett's older sister.”

Jaster freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Arla was gone by the time he’d made it back to the Fett homestead on Concord Dawn, and no trace of her has ever surfaced. Jaster has been looking, because Jango speaks of her endlessly, but—

“That,” he rasps, voice half-caught in his throat, “could be considered blackmail, Master Jedi.”

Mace tips his head. “Proof of my desperation,” he says, and there's no self-consciousness to it, just blunt honesty. A pause, and then he says, faintly rueful, “I’ll give you her location whether you take the job or not. The Death Watch has her.”

Jaster was afraid of that. He breathes out, slow, careful, and—the willingness to offer up half of his bargaining chips makes him more inclined to trust Mace, even if a flicker of wariness still remains. “And the job is?”

Mace doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch. “I want you to assassinate the senior senator from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine. He’s a Sith apprentice.”

Of all the things that Jaster was expecting, that most certainly wasn’t among them.

It takes him a long moment to scrape together a coherent response, another still to get the words right. “Apprentice,” he echoes. “Usually, an apprentice follows a master. Who is the Sith Master, then?”

“A scientist and a banker,” Mace says coolly. “Palpatine is the more dangerous target, and a better duelist. I can handle the Master, but the apprentice I would leave to someone more adept at assassinations.”

It would hardly be the first time the Mandalorians have been hired for such a thing, and Jaster is more than willing to do it. Knowing that Mace will be fighting his own battle allays some of Jaster's fears as well, and he leans on one arm of his chair, considering the man.

“A fraught mission,” he says, “on both parts. You have a plan, I assume.”

If anything, Mace looks amused at that. “The Jedi do not plan,” he says, a trace of humor in the words. “I trust the Force to see me through, however. And as I am training Depa, I will have all the time I need to see things through.”

Jedi, Jaster thinks, and doesn’t roll his eyes. Quite. “And would you care to tell me where you got this information, Master Jedi? Particularly about a traitor within the ranks of the True Mandalorians. I must admit that one surprises me.”

Mace is silent for another moment. “From the future,” he finally offers. “I traveled back with the help of a Force nexus. In the time I came from, the True Mandalorians were wiped out, and the Sith won.”

Something cold slides down Jaster's spine, and he rises slowly, comes to his feet to face the Jedi. Mace meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and—

He looks tired, Jaster thinks, calculating, considering. Tired in a bone-deep, weary way that Jaster had managed to miss before, buried as it was by his determination. Traveled back from the future, through time itself, and Jaster didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Not possible for most people, he thinks, watching Mace. And not optimal even for this one.

“Very well,” he says after a long minute of silence. “But on the condition that you stay here and provide your information throughout the mission. I won't have a Sith kill my men because you think you have better things to do.”

The relief that slides over Mace's expression is subtle, but—Jaster catches it easily. “Agreed,” he says. “We will rely on your hospitality, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster, please,” Jaster says, and moves around the end of his desk, taking Mace's arm. Muscled, he thinks, and that’s likely a good sign. Not a useless Jedi, hopefully. Not if he’s certain he can take on a Sith. “I think the use of first names is allowable now that you're my guest.”

“You have a liberal interpretation of guest,” Mace says dryly, but he doesn’t pull away as Jaster leads him out of the office, and Jaster is willing to count it as a win.

[On AO3]

#my writing #jastermace #jaster mereel #mace windu #star wars

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blxnkflying · 3 years

Text

bucky barnes - dancing in the living room

Notes: First time writing after a really long time; English is not my first language; Let me know if you like my writing - by that requests are open. Don’t copy, translate or repost my work.

Warning: smut; mentions of drinking; pet names (doll/baby); bucky's first time with the reader; oral sex (male receving); unprotected sex.

I recommend listening to “Summer Walker - Girls Need Love (Girl's Edition)” to get in the mood. :)

I’m taking the last sip of wine while putting the plates in the sink when I feel his presence behind me. A kiss on the neck, left metal hand on my hip and his whiskey breath saying “May I have a dance?”. He grabs my hand smirking while taking me to the living room and I can hear the song going as he hugs me by the waist and I put my hands over his shoulders.

We’re slow dancing in my dark living room with just the lights from the street shining on us. All I can feel right now is eyes looking at me and going down in my body every time he spins around my tiptoes. Bucky spins me one more time as the song is ending and our movements become slower. He holds my face gently and with his thumb slowly outlining my lips. “You look really good in this red dress, Doll.” I give him a shy smile and I’m pretty sure he enjoys that everytime he compliments me, I don’t know how to react. His lips taste like the whiskey from before and his hands are grabbing my waist putting us closer and closer. I break the kiss for air and he still has the same smirk from before. I can feel in my skin those blue eyes are hungry for something else. I push him to the sofa behind us and he sits spreading those thick thighs of his, not breaking eye contact not even once. I sit on his lap biting my lips imagining the pleasure and his right hand goes to the cleavage of my dress pushing it down just a little, just to tease me.

I look down to his hand almost on my breasts and go to his neck. Kissing, licking, sucking and thinking “We’re definitely having sex tonight.” I go again for his lips and I can feel the arousal building up my legs. He grabs my hair a little too hard to kiss my neck to my breasts, making me close my eyes and bite my lips again. When I return to his lips, I can see his shy hands on my thighs, wishing they were on my ass. So this is what I do.

I take his hands out of my thighs and put them in my ass. While I’m kissing him, I can feel his fingers tracing the lace of my underwear and to my surprise he grabs my ass firmly and brings me even close. I break the kiss letting a moan out, he laughs at me, proud of himself for making moan first.

We are back kissing and his hands are still on my ass making me grind on his jeans and all I can perceive is his length in my cunt.

“Bucky…” I said breathing heavily.

“Yeah, baby.” He doesn't bother and is still kissing my neck with his right hand on my hair and the metal one holding my waist firmily.

“Are you sure of it?” Even though I was having the moment, I was a little worried about how much intimacy he was comfortable with.

“I’m definitely sure.” He kisses me again with instinct, almost aggressively, just to show me how much he wanted that.

“Bucky.”

“What baby?” He says holding my neck with his right hand paying attention to my interruption after he just told me he was more fine doing it.

“Then I wanna fuck you”. I said looking into his eyes waiting for his reaction.

He is quickly holding me by the waist and lifting me. My legs are around his hips while he is taking me to my room. I’m surprised that even after a long time, his body is reacting like he never took a break. His hands on my body, his lips on my neck and his tongue on mine.

He presses me to the wall, letting me stand on my feet while my hands are up in his shirt, scratching his abdomen. He puts me closer, letting me feel his hard cock again, pressed against my dress. I can tell he likes the teasing while I take his blue navy shirt.

“Can I give you a little present?” I have a smirk on my lips this time with hungry eyes for the man standing shirtless right in front of me. Knowing I’m going to fuck him like no else did before because I know the ladies in the 40’s were a little basic.

He follows my hands going to take off his beat and unbutton his jeans. “Of course, baby.” I get on my knees taking off his pants, leaving him on black boxers. I give a gentle kiss on his volume with his boxers on and I feel him becoming anxious for me to put all his length in my mouth.

I take off his boxers while leaving kisses on the end of his abdomen and his cock is just so wet from all the pre-cum that I had to lick it. I hear him moaning while I’m sucking his dick. It’s music for my ears. He puts his hand through my hair to help me with my movements. I take his dick of my mouth and hold it with my hand doing some circular movements on his swollen tip. His leg starts to fail because of the sensitivity of his dick and he tries to hold my hand to make me stop. I laughed it off and put his member in my mouth again for the last time. I get on my feet going for a kiss, making him taste himself in my mouth.

He takes off my dress and stares at me. His hands are on my breasts, feeling the lace of my lingerie and squeezing them. He gets on his knees looking up to me while grabbing my waist with his hand while spreading kisses in my belly, going down to my cunt over the lace underwear. He gets up and throws me to the bed on my stomach. I feel his hard cock pressing on my ass and he kisses my back until he is in my ear whispering “Tell me what you want, Doll.”

“I wanna ride you, Bucky.” My words made him squeeze my ass and breathe heavily. Of course I realized he was talking about what he could do to please me but tonight was about him. I wanted to give him the pleasure he was waiting for. I hold his face to kiss again while he is taking care of taking my bra and my underwear off. His hand are touching my pussy without any sign to go to my clit or my entrance. I break the kiss to look what the fuck he is not doing and for my surprise, he puts two fingers inside me. He really waited for me to look at him to do this. The moan I let out, the way I rolled my eyes back to the pleasure of it, he wanted to see my face, my reaction to his movements.

“Lay down for me, baby.” I whisper in his ear as he is squeezing my breasts.

As he lays down on the bed, I get on top of him putting his member in my hand going up and down while kissing his stomach. I give him one more kiss on the lips before aligning his dick to my entrance. His hands are on my hips helping me go up and down on his member, my breasts are freely bouncing to his view and our noises are filling up the room. Our bodies are hot and sweating from the movements and all we can do is touch each other desperately from the desire.

While I’m riding Bucky, I put his hand under mine in my belly so he can feel his member deep inside me. His response is to arch his hips up under me making me cry out of pleasure. “You like that?” He is holding my chin with his metal hand when I barely can hold myself up on his dick. I guess that serum really works in a lot of ways. “I really don’t believe you are already tired, babygirl… Let me handle that.”

Now he is on top of me, I can easily outline the muscles of his shoulders with my fingers while scratching his back. The moaning in my ear is driving me crazy, making me squeeze his member inside of me even more. Bucky is going slowly and deep just to see me twitch beside him and it’s working. My thighs are already shivering and I can feel my orgasm building. As it arrives I bite his right shoulder because of the pleasure and my nails are deep on his skin. His movements became faster as my bite got stronger and he cums on my leg while I’m trying to get my breath after this amazing orgasm I just had.

Our bodies are still spasming after the sex as we cuddle. “Wow, Doll.” Bucky is looking to the roof, trying to put his thoughts and words together.

“I didn't know you were so…” I’m also trying to find words after having my thoughts rearranged by his dick. He laughed it off “Yeah, baby. I can last longer than normal.”

I laugh too as he finishes the sentence making eye contact. “What?” “I guess that means we have more time to have fun.” I said while holding his chin. “For a girl that doesn’t know how to take compliments, you’re such a freak in the sheets, Doll.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes smut #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #mcu x reader

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luvluvnitrodynamite · 3 years

Text

jealous jujutsu kaisen characters <3

ft. itadori yuuji, gojou satoru g/n!reader (sfw, with some suggestive themes in gojou)

itadori yuuji - watching itadori get jealous is a bit cute, if you're being honest. i mean, take what happened in the grocery store yesterday. ~ "yuuji, we're out of rice," you say to him, re-checking your list. "we're out of rice??? impossible. i just had some yesterday." you sigh. "be that as it may, that doesn't change the fact that we don't have it anymore. can you grab it really fast?" he pouts a bit. you're not sure if he genuinely doesn't want to leave your side or if he's just stalling to remember where the rice aisle is. regardless, you don't want to stand here all day. "yuuji, i'll give you a kiss as a reward if you get it for me." he perks up immediately, giving you a grin and a thumbs up before dashing in the opposite direction. you smile to yourself. itadori may have been an idiot, but he's your idiot. the thought warms your heart. you push your cart of the produce section and into a large selection of rows, choosing one closest to you. you seem to be in the tea aisle. oh good, you think. we've been out of tea for a couple of days now. you peruse the section, picking up some green tea. you get some chamomile as well, stacking the boxes carefully so they won't get crushed by fruits. mmm what about chai? you search the boxes, only to see it's at the very top self. you reach up, fingers just barely touching the platform it's on. you can't even brush up against the box. you try standing on tiptoes, looking a bit silly as you try to extend your body beyond its natural length. you're thinking maybe you should wait for itadori to get back when a different hand easily plucks the box off the shelf. you follow the hand to its owner, to see it belongs to a tall guy about your age. he's cute you suppose, but it's no itadori. still, you smile sweetly and charm him with a "thank you! there was no way I was going to reach that." He smiles broadly back at you. "No problem," he replies. "You like chai tea?" You want to be polite and he's nice enough, so you respond "definitely! I don't know if it's my favorite, but it's a staple in my pantry." He blushes a bit, and scratches his hand behind his neck. "Yeah, same," he says. "There's actually a really nice café that opened up a few blocks away from here. They make a mean cup of chai, and they have these delicious little cinnamon rolls that go really well with them. If you're free any time soon, do you want to try one with me?" You open your mouth to politely turn him down when you feel a protective arm wrap around your waist. You turn your head to see a pink-cheeked itadori glaring at the stranger. he does look mad, but you also think he just looks so cute. ah, the duality of man. "oh, hi yuuji! did you get the rice?," you ask him. you have priorities, after all. "yeah," he says, not moving his arm or his gaze. "who's this, love?" oh, he's really jealous if he's pulling out the love. you try to defuse the situation. "oh, this guy just helped me get some tea from the top shelf. thanks again!" you say. the guy was not expecting a wild itadori to emerge from the tall grass, and is trying to figure a way out. "no problem," he repeats. "i'll see you around, yeah?" without waiting for a response, he puts the tea in your cart and walks away. "did you know that guy?" you ask, as itadori relaxes and puts the rice in the cart. "no, but it sure looks like you did," he says, a bit annoyed. "yuuji, are you jealous?" you tease. "no! of course not!" he retorts. his cheeks are still pink though, and now he's looking around like he expecting another guy to run through and sweep you up in their arms. you decide to take mercy on him, and tug one of his hands in your own. "hey, don't i owe you a reward for getting my rice?" he perks up, and flicks his gaze almost imperceptibly towards your mouth. you sweetly press his lips to his cheek, and smile innocently when he gives you an annoyed look. you turn around to go the cart, only to see that the tea guy has returned. itadori sees him too, and he looks mad again. however, instead of confronting him, he looks at you and says,

"c'mon, i meant a real kiss." he gently places his hands on your face and pulls you in. it's a light, yet passionate kiss. the rhythm is slow and soft, but there's a definite intensity behind it. his tongue has just swiped your bottom lip, entering your mouth when you remember that you're in public. you pull away and glance at the end of the aisle. the guy is gone. you glance at itadori. he is grinning triumphantly at you. you smile in spite of yourself, going back over to the cart. "yuuji?" he comes over, wrapping his arms around you and placing his head over your shoulder. "yes, my love?" "you got the wrong kind of rice." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ gojou satoru - a jealous gojou is not a good gojou. if you think he's annoying normally, it's about to get so, so, so much worse. ~ "satoru please!" you beg. you're feeling desperate now, there's no other way out. you two have gone to the park for a picnic to savor one of his rare days off. the spot you chose was warm and sunny with few people around; the day was supposed to be lovely. and it was, at least for a while. you had spent just the last hour cloud-watching, peacefully pointing out odd shapes in the sky. really though, you were just taking an excuse to lay on his stomach and talk. you two get so little time together like this that you try to savor every moment. however, in your analysis of a banana-shaped cloud far on the horizon, you noticed a familiar shape. the shape of your ex, to be precise. you stiffen, and gojou notices. "hey," he says. "what's wrong?" you don't respond immediately; your mind is swirling with schemes to avoid them. if you guys packed up now, could you go without being noticed? no, you were too close. could you hide? no, there wasn't anywhere to duck behind. you had to stop time somehow, but how? gojou waves his hand over your face. "hey? everything ok down there? have you gone into the void?" he asks. you start to glare at him, but then his words hit you in the face. the void. he can draw your ex into the void while you make a hasty getaway. you sit up, dropping your angry look and switching to a more saccharine one. "satoru," you start. "can you do a favor for me?" he gives you an easy smile. "of course, anything for you," he replies. "great, can you trap the person in the white shirt over there into the infinite void?" that certainly gets his attention. "i'm sorry, what?" he asks incredulously. "ok, so that's my ex over there. things ended kind of...awkwardly, and I just don't want to deal with this right now. could you trap them into the void before they notice me?" "i don't think the relationship was the thing that was awkward love. maybe you should just, you know, face the problem head on?" he suggests. "it can't be that bad. and even if it is, at least it'll be entertaining. actually, i'll give you two some privacy!" he says cheerfully, and promptly leaves. that brings you to your current predicament. you could be responsible and mature, but that would involve getting over your breakup. you may have slightly understated the awkwardness of the situation. truthfully, you got dumped and you pined over your ex for weeks afterward. you especially did not take it when when you were being broken up with. you begged them not to leave you while crying, making quite the scene in the restaurant they had chosen. now, with no lingering emotions, you just feel guilty and embarrassed for how you acted. but that was in the past, and you could move past that as long as it wasn't walking up to you. and now with gojou walking away, and them walking up...oh no. oh no oh no ohnonono. you take a deep breath in, and breathe out. i'm not the same person i was then, you think to yourself. this thought steadies your nerves; in fact, maybe gojou was right. you have been wondering what they’ve been up to, after all, and you might stop feeling guilty if you apologize. a bright and cheerful “hey!!” jolts you out of your thoughts; there they are. “hey,” you respond, a bit less cheerfully. you push yourself up off the ground to

greet them, and are a bit surprised when they pull you into a hug. it’s a more intimate hug than you would have guessed, with their hands snaking around your waist and gently cradling your head. they smell...nice, you think to yourself. as you pull away, you feel watched. you’re not sure from where, since you can’t see him, but you know gojou is watching you. well, good. he refused to help you out of this mess, so maybe you’ll make him suffer a bit. neither one of you say anything for a second.. “so….i guess how are you?” they ask you, smiling. “i’m great,” you reply. “how are you?” you ask. “good.” you stand there, neither one of you wanting to interrupt the delicate silence. “so,” you both say at the same time. you guys laugh, and just like that, the weird silence dissipates. “you go first,” they say to you. “well, i just want to say that i’m sorry. i know breaking up was probably hard for you, but i think i just made it harder by, you know, being unable to let us go. that was unfair to you and it definitely made things harder for me, so i’m really sorry about that.” “oh, wow,” your ex say, a bit surprised. “well, that sort of contrasts what i’m about to say. i was going to say that you were right.” huh? what? you furrow your eyebrows together, and stare back with a bemused expression. “i was right?” you venture. “about...what?” your ex sheepishly scratches the back of their head, giving you an embarrassed smile. “about us, i mean. you kept telling me that we were better together, and that we would only be unhappy apart. i know it’s been a while since we were together, but lately it’s all i can think about. i….still think i love you.” well, that was a bombshell. you just stare at them, stunned into silence. “sorry, i know that this is way too much for just meeting again; you just looked so beautiful and it reminded me of when we were together and i just miss being together and -- ah, i’m rambling like a crazy person now, aren’t i?” they wryly ask. you giggle. “just a bit,” you respond. they take your hands into theirs, tracing their thumb lightly over your skin. their eyes are honest, and their face is hopeful. “i know this is really sudden, but would you maybe want to get dinner with me soon? you don’t have to, of course, but…?” they pull one hand out, and drift it up to your face, caressing your jawline with such care that if you were not previously engaged, you might have melted into their arms right there. but you already had a boyfriend, even if he was an annoying one. you thought briefly about pretending to accept their offer, just to needle him, but decided against it. instead, you just kindly smiled at your ex, and pull their hand from your face. “this is really sweet,” you say. “but, unfortunately, i’m already taken.” their face falls, but they quickly mask it with a smile. “ah, i get it. someone as amazing as you would get snapped up fast. it was just my mistake to let you go,” they say, pulling back. “well, why don’t we start over with this. how about instead of a romantic dinner date, we just get coffee sometime. no love attached,” they add. “sure,” you respond. “i have been wanting to know what you’ve been up to.” “same here, how about tomorrow at 11?” they ask. “it’s a date!” you joke. “now, what’s a date?” you hear a familiar, slightly pouty voice from behind you. of course. why wouldn’t gojou appear at the worst possible time. you turn to your boyfriend, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. he’s planning something, but what? “hey ‘toru, this is my ex." you face your ex. "this is my boyfriend, gojou satoru." your ex smiles at him, blissfully unaware. "nice to meet you. we were just planning on getting some coffee soon." “oh, is that so? you’re not trying to steal my love away from me, are you?” there’s no threat in his voice, no hostility, but all the same your ex seems to pick up on his vexing energy and straightens up a little bit. “no, of course not,” they say. “hmmm, i believe you. but all the same, i could have sworn i heard talk of

a date. that reminds me love, weren’t we just finishing up on a date ourselves?” you sigh. “yes, we were.” turning to your ex, you turn back to say goodbye. that, however, is cut off by your lovely boyfriend picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. shocked, you pound your fists against his back. “gojou satoru, put me down right now.” gojou ignores you, instead sticking one hand out to shake your ex’s hand. “sorry to cut this short, but we simply must finish our date back at our place. wish i could invite you, but this is a more private activity.” he cheerfully states. mortified, you start kicking him and hitting him even harder. “ ‘toru! put me down so i can dump you right here and now!” “ahh, can’t have that now. we’d best get going so that someone learns a lesson, see you around!” with that and a quick sweep down to gather the picnic supplies, gojou carries you kicking and screaming out of the park. once outside, he puts you down. “satoru, what the absolute hell was that??? that was so embarrassing!” you cry out. “it was your idea to let me deal with that, and then you swoop in once it’s all taken care of? now they’re going to think i’m...i’m... i don’t even know what they’ll think of me, but i’m sure it won’t be positive!” “shhhh,” says gojou. “you might make a scene.” if you were mad before, well, now you’re apoplectic. “a scene???? i might make a scene?” you spit out seethingly. the entire way home, you tear into him for embarrassing you in front of your ex and an entire park full of people. finally, you get home and you drop the j-word. “and all this because you were just jealous??” now that you’ve dropped the threshold of your front door and pulled the trigger, gojou’s entire demeanor shifts. he drops the picnic supplies and picks you up again, but instead of going over his shoulder you’re now up against the wall. you instinctively wrap your arms and legs around him to keep from falling, skillfully intertwining your bodies together. his blindfold has slipped off, and now his piercing blue eyes are pouring into yours with a powerful intensity. your previous angry words slip off into the void, as you’re transfixed by the way he’s staring at you. he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses just barely touching. “yeah,” he breathes. “i got jealous. i let an ex come up to you and try to take you away, and i only sat there and watched. i knew you would never cheat on me, but i just got annoyed with myself for encouraging that. you mean too much to me to just let you be taken by someone else, so i really wanted to get you out of there as fast as possible. so, yeah, i’m sorry for embarrassing you. let me make it up to you?” it’s hard to say no in this position, but you try to hold your resolve. “satoru, you just can’t do that. promise me you’ll never do that again?” he’s still looking at you with that seriousness, so he replies “yes” with uncharacteristic sincerity. there’s nothing out of character though about the way he moves in to kiss you though, full of desire and need. you fall into a steady rhythm, a sweet push-and-pull of dominance flicking between you two. gojou suddenly takes over, and just as suddenly, he pulls away and starts carrying you to the nearest flat surface. “let me show you how much you mean to me, yeah?”

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4joonkookie · 3 years

Text

Gravity

(Mirror, Mirror part #2, [or not])

⚘ Paring: Jungkook x Reader

⚘Words: 3.8K

⚘Summary:

Part 2 of the Mirror, Mirror series. All parts can be read as a series or standalone. (Standalone) - You strike a lusty connection with a sexy stranger at a concert venue. OR (Series) - Unsure about the future of your relationship, you recall the first time you meet and fuck JK.

⚘Tags/Warnings:

SMUT, flirting, public foreplay, infatuation, established relationship, non-disclosure agreement, angst, rough sex, putting on a condom is sexy?, waxing nostalgic, noona!kink, destiny, series, career woman, Jungkook takes long showers, oops there's a plot, lots of research on that 'Euphoria' harness, Seokjin cameo, commitment issues, avoidant behavior, unresolved ending, ending up to reader interpretation, just wanted to write a sex scene in the mirror and it's manifested into 4 parts.

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You stand frozen in the mirror, looking at your reflection until it fortunately steams away from Jungkook’s hot shower.

Quit your stupid job. Please. Stay with me. And you don’t need to have an answer. But we have to talk about it.

You could be predictable and do exactly what Jungkook thinks. You can leave.

Or. You could head to the kitchen, start a pot of coffee and unpack your bags.

Memories flood your mind, keeping you still.

-----

The thousands of seats in the stadium are empty but ample employees work through set-up and dress rehearsal for the concert happening tonight.

You stand on the stage watching the staff secure a performer to the platform harness, tightening a cable around his waist. They shuffle to finish and take steps back to watch the man be lifted, hung and swayed above the stadium seats.

This is the last item on your agenda today before you can head back to the hotel and rest for an early flight tomorrow.

The performer is slowly lowered down to the stage.

Working for these large venues means traveling, living in hotel rooms and keeping you too busy to take advantage of endless complimentary show tickets. Most of them go to waste or are given away . A “friend” (one of the many that come out of the woodwork depending on what show is in their city) casually asked about tickets to this particular concert. You told her the stadium is sold out but you had 2 tickets and weren’t planning on using them.

Your ears still ring with the high-pitched shriek she wailed into the receiver.

When the man lands safely back on the stage, you approach him. “How is it? Does it feel okay?” you say, in your best client - friendly voice as he steps off the device.

“Do I have to wear the wrist harness?” He rubs where the looped fabric has reddened his skin.

“It kind of burns.”

You scrunch your face before replying. “Yes, you have to wear the harness. It’s a liability if you don’t.” you say, matter-of-factly.

“A liability.” It’s not clear if he’s parroting you or asking a question.

“Right,” you nod. You signed a contract.”

“I did?” his hand on his chest, genuinely surprised.

“Well, someone did,” gesturing to the plentiful staff of his company.

“What does it say?”

“It says the stadium isn’t responsible for anything that happens to you if you don’t use the moving platform as recommended, I.E. with the wrist harness.”

He doesn’t reply. “Sorry.”, you add. Just trying to keep you and your 5 friends safe.”

“6,” he corrects you.

“6 What?”

“There’s seven of us. Me and 6 friends.”

You quickly apologize, realizing you may have come off rude and too eager to leave. You have no idea who he is but he’s not the first diva you’ve dealt with. You turn on the charm and start sucking up to the talent, as your job often requires.

“But if the fabric of this one is too rough on you...,” you briefly rub your hand over the reddening skin on his hand. “I think I have one in a different material that’ll be gentler on your skin.”

He laughs shyly and smiles. It wasn’t your intention to flirt but his reaction made it feel like you were. It makes him seem a little young.

“It’s ok.” He laughs again, containing a smile. “It’s not too rough,” eyes glancing at your lips and moving to your eyes. The wind blows his dark hair over his face but you can still see his eyes. His near smolder throws you off, causing you to dart your own eyes down.

“Are you sure?” feeling blood rush to your chest and face as the distance between your bodies begins to close.

“Yes.” He thanks you by name after quickly getting a glimpse at your name badge. “Is that your job? Making sure everyone is safe?” Embarrassed by your initial touch, he seems more confident now.

“Sort of,” you reply shortly.

Really, your job is to prevent the venues from being sued. Charming (and albeit, sometimes flirting) with talent is part of the job, so, you’re not sure why this random has such a pull on you. Or why your palms are sweating and your mind is going foggy.

“Wait here,” you instruct.

He nods and you jog to an equipment room backstage to retrieve another wrist harness. This one is made of silicone instead of fabric. You hurry back to him and worry you’re out of breath when you return.

“Here.” You pull the moving platform to you, stepping on your tiptoes to unhook the fabric loop. He holds out his hand to take the new one from you. You offer it and he easily reaches to hook it on, making you feel small as you return back to your flat feet.

“Hopefully, it’s a bit gentler for you,” you tease, taking some advantage of his bashfulness.

“Thank You.” He smiles. Your bodies are closer now and you can feel his breath.

Swallowing, “Do you want to try it.?” Soap and cologne fill your nostrils.

“Try what?” keeping his lips parted, eyes searching your face.

“The harness.” You pull the still-hanging platform and hold your foot down on the device so he can step easily onto it again. He raises his arm above his head and you loop his hand through the strap. You pull the belted cables and secure them tightly around his waist, feeling rigid muscles under his oversized t-shirt. He winces when you snap the belt closed.

“Speaking of rough,” he scolds, looking down at you, the world closing in quickly on you both.

“Safety first.” One of your feet between his, holding him down to the stage on the small platform. You could’ve had staff do it but eliminating this closeness seems wrong. “Ready?” you say, hands hanging from his belt.

His eyes peek down at your lips again. “Ready.” You step off the platform and give a thumbs up to staff working the cables above the stadium. They pull him for a few laps, flying around, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

When he lands, you replace your foot between his. “Better?” you ask, rising to your tippy-toes to unloop his wrist, letting your fingertips graze on the top of his hand.

“Better,” he replies, smiling ear-to-ear now. You wrap your arms around his waist again to remove the cables.

Behind him, a group of men huddle together at the end of the stage, conspicuously giggling and immediately stopping when your eyes find them.

“Are those your 6 friends?” you question, as you unhook the belt, embarrassed that you acted as if you were alone.

He steps off and rolls his eyes, endeared. “That’s them.”

“Ok.” You rub your face, trying to coax yourself back into reality. “You’ll let me know if you or your friends need anything?”.

He nods respectfully and thanks you by name again.

“You’re welcome.” You offer a wave and turn to slink away. You cringe when he calls you again. You turn to find a sheepish grin on his face.

“Do you know my name?” he asks with a knowing look.

You try to be casual. “No, I don't. You don’t have a name badge like me.” You take another step forward, being pulled in like a magnet again, onlookers be damned. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you or your friends are. Will you forgive me?” looking up, controlling the urge to pout at him.

He scrunches his nose. “It’s ok. Kind of makes me feel normal.”

Funny, he seems normal to you. Your faces are too close to call this any kind of “schmoozing” or “sucking up” but you can’t drag yourself away.

“Your name?” scanning him from head to toe.

He crooks his mouth and inhales sharply. “I don’t know, I kind of like it this way.” He leans in closer, voice getting lower. “Is there somewhere we can go?” tongue running over his cotton-candy lips. “I promise to introduce myself.” He's painstakingly bold now and not a second too soon because you’re practically putting on a show, center stage. “Or is that a liability too?” he teases.

“I guess that depends on how rough you plan on being,” you taunt back and he exhales a breathy moan. “Follow me.” He takes your hand and you lead him to the office buildings in the stadium, empty on a Saturday.

“Is this part of your job too? Seducing singers?” he asks, as you approach the glass doors. You stop in your tracks before inserting a key into the lock of the building.

“I am NOT seducing you.” Reflecting on the last few minutes, you hardly believe it yourself.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “And no,” you continue. “I’ve never done this before.” You insert a key in the lock and turn your wrist.

“So, why me?” a hand still clasped with yours.

“Still figuring that out,” you reply, opening the door. “I’d hate for you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you, do you want to stop?”

He pulls the door open. “No.” gesturing for you to walk inside. You hardly make it in before he pins you to the wall right away, hooking his index fingers in your belt loops.

You look at him closely. “How old are you?”

“You first,” he says with a sly smile.

“Old enough.” You give him a playful shove.

Looking at him long again, “20.” you guess, sounding confident.

He grips around your waist. “How do you know that?”

You look up at him, thoughtfully. His lips are millimeters from yours. “Just a feeling,” you whisper. His lips finally press against yours, soft pecks at first. You breathe each other in and your mouth opens to him when he lifts a hand to the back of your neck.

He slots his legs between yours, heatedly pushing you harder against the wall. His lips move to your neck and both pairs of greedy hands squeeze and tug at each other's bodies.

Unfazed by still being visible through glass doors, you slip your hands under the belt of his pants to give his ass a squeeze and push his groin more roughly against you.

It gets more desperate, both of you panting and sweating through your clothes, still against the wall. He lifts up your shirt to grope at your breasts when you hear the speakers.

“Jungguuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuk, let’s goooooooo! We need to get ready!”

You peek out of the glass to see two other members shouting for Jungkook into hot microphones. He lets out a heavy sigh and kisses you hard again.

“Jungkook ,” you whisper. Like a prayer falling from your lips, naming the pull of his gravity.

He looks at his watch which prompts you to look at yours. 5 o’clock.

“I have to go. Can I see you later? Are you busy?” still panting and pressed against you.

“Aren’t you?” running fingers through strands of his chocolate hair.

“Later, later. After the concert, 10 or 11. “You’re staying for the concert?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

His name still blares over stadium speakers. He groans and pushes his forehead to yours. It’s a relief that he feels stuck to you too.

You begin to offer, “I have a hotel nearby, you can…”

He laughs. “Sorry, I can’t really do that. Can I have your number? I’ll have my lawyer find you tonight.”

“What?” you ask, confused.

“You know… liability and legal stuff.” A hundred voices tell you to end this right now. And one voice has you unhooking a pen hanging from your name badge and listing digits on his hand.

He plants one more kiss on you and just like that, he’s gone. You let your back slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the floor, taking a moment before you head back to the hotel to change clothes, put on your staff badge to blatantly take advantage of your job and enter a concert you don’t have tickets for.

You re-enter the stadium without suspicion and blend into the standing room. Any sense of nervousness disappears. You lose yourself in the magic of the show and his talent on stage, now done up and dressed in almost a costume. Still beautiful.

At intermission, a stranger in a suit calls you by name and introduces himself as the lawyer. You walk into an empty office as the stadium still buzzes. He talks and talks and talks. Then, he takes out a stack of paperwork, a non-disclosure contract.

You sign in about a hundred places. You know better, you should be taking time to read and sign carefully but your mind is fogged with the idea of getting your hands back on him, whoever he is.

“Ok. You’re all set,” the lawyer says, after a final signature.

“What happens next?” wondering when you reap the benefits of signing your life away.

“He’ll be in touch, I guess.” The lawyer shrugs and you walk him to the arena exit.

The concert ends and you head to an office to wait, unsure if you should leave the stadium.

Finally, a message from an unknown phone number with an address and hotel room appears on your phone screen. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach. You feel compelled to tell someone where you’ll be going only to remember that you signed an NDA that forbids just that.

You try to reply to the number and an error message immediately returns. “Sender not available”.

What the fuck. You stop and take a deep breath. This could be dangerous and now it’s going beyond “sexy” danger. You try unsuccessfully to convince yourself to stop thinking with your genitals and about the sexy stranger you needed to finish that kiss with.

It doesn’t feel real. You open an internet tab and search his name.

What a mistake. All the blood in your body floods to your core, knowing this man was potentially waiting in a bed for you makes your mind even hazier. Before you can catch up to your thoughts, you rush to your car to drive the short distance to the hotel.

Silent security guards escort you through the lobby and up the elevator. When the doors reopen, Jungkook has his back propped against a wall, expecting you. His hands are in the pockets of sweatpants. He doesn’t look like he did on stage anymore. Not like the pictures. His freshly showered and bare-faced appearance disarms your anxious mind.

“I’ve narrowed down who you are,” you start. “You’re either a big deal or an axe murderer.”

He laughs. “What if I told you neither is true?” He pulls you close by your waist and places a quick kiss on your lips. It’s too casual, like some muscle memory you never knew you had.

“The paperwork? The spoofed phone number?” you gently scold, as he leads you to a door in the hallway.

“You still came,” he says, opening the room door.

“Yeah, what does that say about me?” walking in ahead of him and taking a moment in self-deprecation.

“That you want to finish that kiss as much as I do,” door closing behind him.

You smile to yourself as you face away, heart fluttering at the notion that his idea mirrored yours. You turn to approach him.

“It was a little more than a kiss,” you flirt, placing your arms around his neck.

“Yeah…” his hands wrap around your waist again and his lips hungrily find yours. He bites gently on your bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Sorry if that’s a little rough,” he teases, taking his mouth to yours again letting his hands roam. He adds: “I promise i’m not ‘axe-murderer’ rough,” he chides, and you both giggle between kisses. You sink into the familiar and comfortable space, regardless of being actual strangers . You lift off his shirt, eager for what you felt earlier, running hands gratuitously over his chiseled chest and abs.

“Do you want a drink or…” he’s graciously offering between kisses.

“No,” breaking your lips just long enough to reply, knowing he’s got exactly what you need right now.

Clothes are tossed in the air and landing on the floor before he lays you on the bed and the heated pace slows. He mounts on top of you and places slow kisses down your neck and chest while lowering the straps of your bra and kneading your breasts beneath the fabric. He takes nipples into his mouth, warm tongue circling, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your encouraging hands, tangled in his hair.

He moves to your mouth again, offering his tongue, slow but deep. He pulls your panties around your ankles and allows the palm of his hand to slide against your thigh before he can reach his thumb to stroke between your folds, causing you to shudder. He sucks at the tip of his thumb and moves his hips to push his still clothed cock against your center. You wrap your legs around him, urging him closer, needy for his friction.

“Be back,” he says, leaving a peck on your cheek. He walks to a bag on a nearby table, rustles through and retrieves a condom. You sit up on the edge of the bed as he struts back to you. He presents the foil square between 2 fingers. You peel it open, looking up at him. The back of one of his hands strokes your cheek while his other lowers the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing himself. You instinctively grip his shaft to plam slow strokes along his length and take pleasure in watching his eyes roll back.

You release your hand to pull the condom from it’s open wrapper, place it on the tip and use 2 hands to roll it down to the base before discarding the wrapper on the nightstand and pulling his underwear to the floor.

Leaning down to kiss you, he asks, “What do you want?”

You search for the words but opt to stand and silently guide him to sit back on the bed. He’s satisfied to follow your action as you straddle his lap and use your hand to brace his hard cock on your swollen center, rubbing up and down, slicking the rubber further. You guide yourself onto him, digging your nails into his shoulders slightly when you feel how he spreads you open, stretching and adjusting.

He groans when you reach the base, pushing down on your hips and shifting beneath you, getting deeper and widening your stretch. You whimper and squirm as you adjust.

“Too rough?” he teases.

“Not at all, '' you say, lifting your hips again and meeting the base faster. He pushes you down again, lifting his lap up.

“Good,” he breathes out, shakily.

You create a rhythm with your legs lewdly spread and circle your lower body, his shaft grinding against your sensitive walls, encouraged by his quickening breath.

His eyes are glued to your hips, watching them move. He slams you down a little harder, testing you. You both grunt when he meets the hilt.

You encourage his hand on your center, placing his hand on yours and setting the speed for him. He takes the cue and continues on his own, watching your face. You drop your head to his neck. He lifts you by your chin. “Let me see you.” The sensation is too much, and you're embarrassingly close. He quickens his pace below you, your own hips hardly moving anymore. You look down, entranced by his fingers. He uses his free hand to tug back on your hair.

“I said let me see,” you pulse around him at the words, a delighted smile on his face as he watches.

Still inside, he flips you on your back and buries himself balls deep inside you with an audible slap, bed rocking at the motion.

“Too much?” he sounds sincere.

“More,” you reply, challenging him anyway. He thrusts hard into you again with a sinister grin and keeps his pace, watching diligently as you take all of him. You whine at his deep strokes and he pins your wrists above your head, rendering you helpless as the pressure coils again at your center.

His grunts get lighter, whinier as he grips your wrists tighter.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you curse, and grope at his tensing ass cheeks when he comes. His thrusts become slow and shallow before sliding out of you. He takes a moment to lay his head on your chest before pulling and tying the condom off, tossing it.

He collapses beside you so you’re shoulder to shoulder and you fall into conversation, for too long and too late but you both delight in it, taking in more of each other.

“When can I see you again?” he asks as you prepare to leave, sunrise peeking through the curtains.

You’re a little surprised. The circumstances had you assuming this as a one-night thing.

“What do you mean?” you ask, unsure.

He gives you a suspicious side-eye. “Can I see you again?”

You attempt to shake down the guard you have up and smile at him.

“When?” you question, as his gravity pulls you back to the bed where he lies.

You lie side by side and compare schedules. It would be the first of hundreds of times you do this, comparing calendars and forcing your lives together.

You’re not sure when you stop forcing it but it’s happened. Now, 3 years later, you’re frozen at a fork in the road, torn to make a decision, knowing you can’t continue to drag him through your hesitation. You pick up your bag and head to the front door.

This first memory and a million others flood your thoughts.

When you saw him for the second time, weeks later, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. You remember his flattered, cheeky smile.

The time you both got food poisoning and shared the bathroom floor for 3 days.

Surprising him backstage one night and sucking him off before a performance. His face was priceless.

The time he was so exhausted from touring he just slept for the 15 hours you were together. And you contentedly watched until you had to part again.

Taking a spontaneous flight just to get tattoos.

When you told him you loved him on the plane. “I love you.” The words slip out effortlessly, you don’t even remember what you were talking about. He’s pleasantly surprised and almost proud that you say it first. He reciprocates your words and seals it with a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too.”

Playing domestic during quarantine and settling into a chosen family when the world comes to a screeching halt.

The look on his face when he fucked you in the mirror last night.

His disappointed face before he got in the shower today.

You don’t notice Seokjin until he speaks, passing by you on his way to the kitchen.

“Leaving, noona?”

You don’t respond, still facing the closed door.

“Do you need help with your bag?” he’s walking up to you now.

“Noona,” he places a hand on your shoulder. “Are you going?”

Part 3/4 HERE

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x noona #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook thirst #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #bts fic rec #bts fanfic #bts series #jungkook fic #jungkook reader insert

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Unwanted Intrusions. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Unbalanced power dynamics and suggestive themes. Word count: 1.3k. Note: Reposted due to tumblr’s awful not showing posts in tag problem : ))))

It’s no exaggeration to say this order could keep your parent’s business afloat.

For once, you feel as if the Geo Archon has heard your prayers and answered them. Maintaining your composure has never felt so challenging. Standing just to the side of this godsend customer, a genuine smile adorns your face, hands clasped behind your back. She examines the petals of every blossom with scrutiny. You’re more than confident that the assortment will be to her liking, pearly white qingxin’s that took arduous days to obtain.

All she needs to do is confirm what she spoke about earlier. Lian, as she had introduced herself, is a wedding coordinator for a wealthy merchant in Liyue. As funding isn’t an issue, she had considered purchasing your entire stock for the event. It’s a rather last-minute affair and you can’t imagine any other florists could pull it off. How overjoyed your parents will be when they hear this news, they’ll finally be able to rest easily at night. The financial burden that you’ve sought to relieve them of is just within reach.

Lian straightens her posture and looks to you, clearly pleased and reaching for her Mora purse. “It’s as you said, these qingxin’s have undeniable quality. Now then, let’s--”

“Ah, there you are, [First]! Working hard as ever, I take it. Though, if memory serves, isn’t this your day off?”

No. This can not be happening to you. The timing is far too cruel -- an insult, if anything -- blood draining from your face at the grating sound of Childe’s voice. Lian looks at the Fatui standing by the entrance with palpable disdain, and words escape you entirely. It’s no secret that the Fatui have put a hurting on local business, including the very merchant this wedding is meant to be for. Clearing your throat, you struggle to find your verbal foothold, hoping to salvage the rapidly devolving situation.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m incredibly busy at the moment.” Your tone is aloof as you can manage. Childe leans against the entranceway, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head. You recognize that damned expression. It’s the look that comes right before Childe throws you to the wolves for his entertainment.

“I don’t mind waiting. We have a lot to go over since our discussion was cut short last time, remember?”

Lian pivots on her heel, already making for the door. “It seems you’re otherwise preoccupied at the moment. Best of luck with your… future endeavors.”

Your jaw is agape as Lian exists with haste. It feels like the Mora you were so close to obtaining slipped through your fingers, hot indignation flaring at Childe’s purposeful interruption. It’d be naïve to think this a mere coincidence. As soon as she’s gone, Childe makes straight for you, sizing up your displeased body language.

“What a shame,” Childe sighs, running a hand through his tousled copper hair. “Do you think it was something I said?”

“Why are you here?” You snap, arms crossing over your chest. The paper-thin patience you have when speaking to Childe is nonexistent this time around. It’s inevitable that every time you’re free of him for a while, that he makes up for it by intruding in the worst ways possible. The past three or so weeks without Childe lingering like a bad omen have been divine. A much-needed reprieve cut short far too soon.

Childe hums, canting his head down to get a closer look at you. “I think that’s rather obvious, [First]. I missed our little chats.”

He sounds pleased with himself. Frowning, you put your hands on his chest and push, hoping to create some space. Childe doesn’t so much as budge at your feeble attempts. His strength might not be noticeable at first glance, as his body is rather lean and slim. Unfortunately for you, it’s on display now, your force not even making him blink. Arms falling limp to your side in defeat, you recognize he’s not going to be giving personal space anytime soon.

“That’s great, but you’re scaring away my customers.” You grumble, standing on your tiptoes to glance over his shoulder. The situation outside makes your stomach churn in displeasure. Just outside the window, you catch the distinctive outfit of two Fatui guards, standing watch on the premises. Any passerby, Liyue natives or not, will undoubtedly be repelled by the sight.

“I would never,” he lets out a dramatized gasp, laughing at the deadpan stare you give in return. “Wow, what an intimidating glare! Endearing as that is, I much prefer how you look when your lips are on my--”

“Be quiet!” You hiss quietly, cheeks set ablaze, the room suddenly feeling too hot. “My parents are upstairs, you idiot.”

There’s a gleam in his eyes at the mention of this that fills you with despair. “That’s actually what I’m here for. I’ve never had the opportunity to introduce myself to them as your partner, isn’t that a custom in Liyue? Family is important, after all, it’s best to respect these things.”

Is that what he considers himself to be? Your partner?

You have no positive emotional connection to Childe, considering the Harbinger to be a persistent blight on your life. Every deplorable favor you exchanged -- at his behest -- was for the sake of alleviating the financial burden on your family. Carnal pleasure for the Fatui to cease harassing over their unpaid debt. What was done in the dark should remain there, as the humiliation attached to it is too great.

“You’re no such thing to me,” comes your detached response, cutting through the air like a knife. Childe’s lips curl into an uncharacteristic frown at your unhesitant rebuke. “For the last time, please leave so I can do my job.”

Silence. There’s no playful quip or arrogant laughter. Only an icy, piercing stare that sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never been on the receiving end of this look from Childe, who always seems to hold nothing but boundless adoration and favor on you. Swallowing thickly, you hold your ground, somehow managing to maintain eye contact.

“No such thing, huh?” He murmurs, your words bitter on his tongue. You shift uncomfortably, fists clenching by your side. Outside, you can hear the sounds of children playing, merchants bartering, and carts going by filled with various goods. The world is at a standstill in your humble store. Neither you nor Childe makes a move, tension steadily increasing as each second passes slower than the last.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your heart drops. What does he mean by that? Sensing your newfound distress, he pats you on the head, in an act you can only describe as demeaning.

Childe reaches into his pocket, pulling out a personal belonging that sends your head reeling. A dainty necklace, unmistakable in its origin, glistening in front of you temptingly. That’s your mother’s necklace. A family heirloom for centuries, that she painstakingly pawned off to keep the flower shop afloat amidst financial turmoil. Wide-eyed, you reach out for it, only for Childe to lift it above your reach.

He shakes his head, smiling maliciously. “I guess I won’t be needing this any longer. I was hoping to win your parent’s favor with this little gift, but if that’s how you feel, why should I bother?”

“Childe, I’m--”

“Hm, not so cold now, are we?” He laughs, a sound devoid of humanity, placing the necklace away as fast as he took it out. Is this guilt that weighs on your soul? Agony? Hatred? You’re uncertain. Everything is happening too fast to mentally keep up with, Childe once again making a fool of you. You grit your teeth, taking in deep breaths to steady yourself. He stares at you with feigned disinterest.

“If you happen to change your mind,” he starts, turning to leave, “You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”

At that moment, you realize, it wasn’t you who had a semblance of control over Childe.

It was him that had you wrapped securely around his finger.

#everyday tumblr makes me more tilted than the last #lets see if it uncucks me #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years

Note

part 2 to the imagine of mason cheating on holiday? loved it💗

I did it. Not really satisfied with that but I wanted to thank you for all the support for the first part x

Part 1

The last few days as you started to pack your things, you had been thinking about what to do. You knew that your parents would be more than happy to host you for as long as you needed, but you didn't have the energy to give many explanations at the time and going back to your own home would make you feel even more of a failure. So you thought about renting a flat, you would still feel like a failure but within walls that had never welcomed Mase. And you set about trying to solve that little problem as quickly as possible, not wanting to be alone with him any longer than you had to be.

How exactly do you deal with something like that? You're exhausted, you just want to throw yourself into bed and try to catch up on some sleep but you can't. First you have to leave that house and that means confronting Mason.

"Hey do you want me to take them up?" Mason walks down the stairs joining you after quickly dropping his bags off at the laundry room, yours at the same place you left them at the front door just before.

"Do you really think everything is alright between us Mason? Or are you playing dumb hoping I'll just forget about it?" sitting on the couch you stare straight ahead, your arms over your legs ending with your hands crossed.

"Oh so we can talk now" your eyebrows rise in surprise at the sarcastic tone you detect in his voice.

"Excuse me?" you get up to look at him finding him behind the couch with his arms crossed.

"I've been trying to talk to you for days, but all you do is push me away"

"Can you blame me? Anything that would have come out of your mouth would have been pointless" your gaze lands on the suitcases knowing it's one of those now or never situations, so you sigh trying to look as casual as possible. "Anyway I'm leaving for a while"

"What?" his arms lose position, his gaze following yours as he seems to understand why you haven't moved a finger yet until that moment. "No, you can't be serious"

"Luckily we're not related at all, it'll be easier" you mutter with a low stare, you know you've hit him in something he cares about and it hurts. But you want to defend yourself somehow and not be the only bleeding one of the two.

At a determined pace you make your way to the suitcases, but his imposing figure gets in the way before you can even grab a handle. "What do you mean? Just because I haven't put a ring on your finger yet then you can't leave me like this!"

"You asked for it!" caught up in your anger you push him with all the strength you have, Mason stumbles for a moment taking a step back in surprise. "God Mason, these last few days have been hell!"

"I've already said I'm sorry"

"Well that's not good enough" you state harshly looking into his eyes. You're there face to face but you struggle to see him, to recognise him. "Let me go" you plead with him exhaustedly, changing emotion from one moment to the next.

"No" but he shakes his head stubbornly.

"Mason"

"(Y/N) please. We can work this out"

"If we have even a small chance of working this out, you need to let me walk out that door right now Mason" and he looks at you, seeming to weigh the choices in front of him carefully before sighing and stepping aside.

You've just sat down when the doorbell rings a couple of times and you stare at the door as if you can see who it is that seems to have sympathy for that button. When you seem to realise you have to get up to open the door, you snort.

"Hi" you greet softly, chuckling as the girl in front of you is trying to keep the little girl in her arms from leaning over to ring the doorbell again.

"(Y/N), hey. Say hello to auntie (Y/N), no more doorbell" the little girl gives you a warm smile as the girl goes inside and sets her down.

"Nice place, you've settled in nicely" she compliments after taking a quick look around.

"Thanks"

"Does this mean you're not planning on going back to your place anytime soon?!" you roll your eyes automatically, you were actually just trying to figure out why she had come to see you. You had built up a nice relationship over the years but you were kind of avoiding everyone lately so.

"It just means I don't want to live in an empty place" you sit down on the couch as the baby girl comes to cling to your legs and you sit her on your lap happily.

"Sorry I have to ask. Did he send you?" after a few moments of silence where you engage in playing with the baby but your head always thinks back to the same thing, you have to ask.

"No, I just wanted to see how you're doing" an apologetic expression makes way on your face as she smiles at you slightly. You talk about this and that, tiptoeing around the situation, but you make the mistake of asking how he's doing.

"You miss him don't you? Why don't you call him?"

"It's a little more complicated than that"

"It only is if you make it"

"It's not like we yelled at each other, he cheated on me. It's something I can't get over so easily"

"But maybe if you talk about it..." she pushes again but you shake your head harshly, handing the baby back to her and getting up from that couch.

"It wouldn't change anything" you tighten your arms around yourself scratching an arm gently, "if we talked I know I'd go back to him, I love him and that won't change. But my head wouldn't be the same, I wouldn't be able to enjoy a single moment with him. I can't move on" you try to explain yourself the best you can but it's really impossible putting everything on the table.

"So that's how it ends?" you hear her checking from the window where you are.

"I guess so"

"And does he know that?"

"He'll figure it out soon enough" you murmur, your gaze looking out hoping that that wound can heal soon.

#thank you anon #mason mount #mason mount blurb

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Writer (part eight)

Warning - angst / kidnapping / character death

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

"Y/n.... Y/n wake up..." A woman's voice dragged you from the darkness. You were in bed. Thomas's bed. A tight grip on your hand and something gentle stroking your face.

"A shot..."

"Yes. But you're fine."

"I got shot?"

"No y/n, the shock made you pass out."

"Tommy?"

"I'm here. I'm fine."

Your eyes opened to find it was his hand holding yours, and his other one stroking your face. You smiled at him and his smile in return made your heart jump.

"What happened? Is Charlie safe?"

"He's in his room with Finn playing with his train set.

"Thank god... Lucille..."

"Dead. She didn't know I was right behind her with a pistol at her neck," Polly smirked. The relief flooded through you. Pulling yourself up slowly, with Tommy's help, he sat next to you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Gave me quite a fright. I didn't see Polly either, I just heard the shot and you go down - " he held you tighter as you relaxed into his embrace.

"I thought you'd been shot... I was so scared!" The door to the room opened and little Charlie ran in, standing at the foot of the bed. The boy was the image of his mother, but with Tommy's piercing blue eyes.

"Charlie, I'd like you to meet someone very special," Tommy patted the space in front of him and the boy climbed up, sitting in front of you. You held out a hand and he took it gently.

"Charlie, my name is y/n. I'm so happy you're home and safe!"

"Daddy saved me," the three year old gave you a big grin making you smile.

"Yes he did. Can I come and see your train set Charlie? I used to love trains when I was little?"

"Yes!!" He pulled your arm to drag you out of bed and you dutifully complied, allowing the little boy to lead you to his room. Thomas chuckled watching you, warning Charlie to be careful with you as you were still delicate.

You sat playing trains with Charlie for most of the morning - making small villages with his toys.

You could see his eyes growing sleepy, and right on cue Tommy appeared with a cup of warm milk, scooping his drowsy son into his arms. Charlie drank the milk and settled on his Dad's shoulder, happily being rocked to sleep. Your heart melted watching them - the love Tommy had for this small boy so clear in his eyes as he held him close. Small kisses to the top of his head, humming an old Romani song you recognised from long ago when Polly would sing it to Finn as a baby. Within minutes, Charlie was asleep, and Tommy placed him gently in his bed with another kiss to his head. He kneeled next to him, stroking his face and whispering words you couldn't quite make out. You slowly tiptoed out of the room to give them a moment together, and headed down the stairs where Polly was fixing some lunch.

"Polly, where's Frances?" You asked.

"She.. she was in the house y/n, but we'd got there too late. She was already dead when we arrived, her heart gave out from the stress of it all. She wasn't involved. We put the husband through his own personal hell before we took his eyes, he told us she'd been forced to collect Charlie and take him to the hall. Her family had been threatened with torture if she hasn't. Poor woman had no choice."

"Oh Frances... Tommy must be devastated..."

"He's experienced more loss in his life than anyone should have, love. Which is why I have to say this... If you don't feel the same as he feels for you, you need to walk away now y/n. He can't handle another heartbreak, it'll kill him."

"Polly, the things I feel for that man can't be put into words.. he makes me feel alive. Like I'm walking on air when he's with me. I feel so free, and happy. Like I can take the world on as long as he's by my side. It feels comfortable, like being at home."

"Very similar to how he described you, actually," she smiled and gave you a hug. "About time you joined the family, although I was sure it would be John, not Thomas!"

"No, he only had eyes for Martha and I only had eyes for Jack. Until.."

"Everyone is allowed to move on Y/n. Jack wouldn't want you to be unhappy forever, would he?" You shook your head, swallowing back the tears. As much as you were falling in love with Tommy, there would always be a place in your heart for Jack.

The rest of the day was spent playing with Charlie. Tommy was reluctant at first, he didn't know what to do and was thinking about paperwork he needed to complete, but the way you and Charlie looked at him through puppy dog eyes had him beat. Charlie loved the new attention from his father, showing him all of his toys. You ended up in the garden that evening, taking a walk around the grounds and letting him explore.

"Thank you." Tommy smiled, his arm over your shoulder.

"For what?"

"For this. For showing me there's more to life than paperwork."

"Charlie just needs you. Not the toys or the fancy clothes, he needs his Dad."

"I guess I didn't know how - Grace always took care of this side of it. Then Frances.."

"I know - listen, my flatmate is looking for work. She's amazing with children. Why don't I talk to her, see if she'll come help with Charlie while you're working?"

"Can she be trusted?"

"She's marrying my brother, and I've known her since we were babies."

"Then yes." You smiled and turned to Charlie who was fascinated with the flowers.

"What do you think Charlie, can we run faster than Daddy?" You laughed, hoisting the boy onto your back and pointing to a tree the other side of the garden. Tommy smirked at you, taking his jacket off.

"Not a chance!" He laughed.

"Daddy old - too slow!" Charlie giggled behind you.

"Sounds like a challenge to me, boy," Tommy smirked before setting off in a sprint. You quickly ran as fast as you could, Charlie's laughter spurring you on.

"We win!!!" Charlie laughed as you easily reached the tree first, even with Tommy's cheating head start.

"It would appear your Dad is too old for this!" Tommy laughed, laying down to catch his breath. Charlie's hands reached for him, and you placed him on top of Tommy's chest. He quickly nuzzled into him, his eyes growing heavy. You watched the two of them for a few minutes, your heart felt like it would explode.

"Come on little man, let's get you to bed eh?" Tommy sat up gently, lifting his son into his arms. The three of you headed back to Arrow House.

Once Charlie was in bed asleep, he joined you in the sitting room. You already had the whiskey and two glasses ready.

"I hope you don't mind, I wasn't planning on going home?" You smiled, pouring two glasses.

"I thought you said you already were home?"

"You listening into my conversations Thomas?"

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Every word. Want me to show you exactly how much I meant it?"

He sat next to you on the sofa and shook his head.

"I'm going to show you how much I meant it when I told Polly the same thing. Brace yourself, y/n. You're in for a very long evening."

#tommy x fem!reader #tommy shelby x smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x smut #thomas shelby x you

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

The price of magic.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2210.

Turns out the price of magic was higher than you had anticipated. You’ve been away for more than a year, but for your family it was nothing but a week. Sure they’ve missed you and they were out there looking for you with no clue of where you could have gone. But for you?

A year in Storybrooke was experiencing your life as you’ve always imagined. Being yourself in its totality. No Luthor name hanging over your head, no hiding yourself behind glasses or a red and blue superhero suit. It was being both Kryptonian and human at the same time, with no fear of judgment or dislike.

Storybrooke was like going on a super long vacation; so long it made you forget all of your problems. But that doesn’t mean that your problems went away. They came back as soon as you stepped foot in National City.

The price of magic was feeling guilty for being happier somewhere else. It was walking into your bedroom and feeling at home but also somehow not at all. It was walking around the craziness of National City and feeling suffocated like you’re in a crowded room full of empty faces. It was missing the words ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ when people were referring to you. It was having a crazy number of options of take-out food but wanting nothing except the food in Granny’s diner.

And you weren’t the only one to pay the price. You can feel how high it was for Kara and Lena too.

“Mom?” You sit up on the bed, looking at Lena standing in your bedroom watching you sleep. “What are you doing creeping over my bed at-” You look at your alarm clock. “3 in the morning?”

“I had to be sure you were still here.” Lena says, sounding small and scared.

“Mom, I’m not going to disappear from my bedroom in the middle of the night.” You say, trying to reassure her, but it backfires you.

“You can’t blame me for thinking that, because you did.” She holds your arm, and you hear the cry in her cracked voice.

“Would you feel better if you stayed here with me?” You make space for her. Lena hum in agreement, lying next to you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m even more.” She kisses the back of your hand. “A whole year without us. You were probably so scared we weren’t looking for you.”

“I knew you were.”

“You got so tall, and we weren’t even there to see it!” Lena complains and you give her a sad little smile, even though she can’t see your face at all in the darkness of your bedroom.

“Well, I chose a weird age to have a growth spurt .” You joke, but you don’t get a laugh in return. You sort of always knew when you would get taller. It was the same with Kara. You were always very anxious to turn 17, because that was the age she actually grew more. But the weird thing is that you’re not really 17 now. Like Kara is not really 70.

“Come here.” Lena hugs you and you settle back. You’re almost drifting off to sleep when she whispers. “Don’t ever leave again.”

You can’t promise that you won’t. Stranger things have happened in your life, you don’t really feel like you have control over that anymore. And weird as it may seem, you also don’t want to have control over that. Because if you had, if you could have chosen, you probably wouldn’t have met some of the people that you love so much now.

“Hey!” You walk in the kitchen, to both Kara and Lena still having breakfast despite how late already is. “What are you two doing?”

“Having breakfast.” Kara explains, like it isn’t obvious.

You look at the clock. “It’s nine.” You raise an eyebrow at them. “And it’s Monday.”

“Yes.” Lena agrees.

“On Mondays you go to work, and Kara does her usual Kara’ stuff.”

“You were gone for a week. Even if L Corp burned down in flames I wouldn’t leave your side today.” Lena answers you, and you smile softly. You look at Kara next.

“Oh, well, if L Corp was burning up in flames I probably would have to go to put out the fire.” She says but adds in a hurry. “But I would be here five seconds later!”

“Ok.” You chuckle. “I thought I would go see Jamie and Maya on their lunch break, but if you two want me to stay-”

“No! Baby, no. Go see your cousin and your girlfriend. They were missing you too.” Lena hands you your phone. “There’s a lot of texts from them.”

“Oh, a phone! God I haven’t had one in a while.” You smile scrolling through your messages, ignoring your moms questioning looks.

“So, maybe you could tell us how was your life there.” Kara asks, but you’re too distracted with your phone to notice. You haven’t used one in a while, not because there weren’t phones in Storybrooke, but because you didn’t need them. It was a super small city, you could find anyone easily, and because Emma and Charming were sheriffs, you all used radio transmitters to talk. “Hey? Little one, helloooo.”

“Sorry momma.” You put your phone down. “What did you say?”

“We want to know about your life there. I mean, for us it wasn’t that long, but for you it was a whole year. You probably did lots of things.” Kara says and you agree with your head.

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrug. “I used to help mom Emma out with the saving, and oh, mom Regina helped me with my panic attacks. And I’m a lot better at controlling them! Henry and I used to watch this awesome TV show that I probably won’t ever know how it ends now. And grandma taught me archery.”

“Oh, that sounds-” Lena thinks about it for a second. “Fun.”

“Yeah. It was so great. And every night all of us would get together at Granny’s diner and talk about our days, and sometimes I would go hang out with Belle in the library, so I read all the books there. And if I had stayed a little bit longer and turned 18 there, then grandpa would’ve taught me how to use a gun.”

“A little bit? It would’ve been a whole other year!”

“For me, I guess.” You shrug again. “Just another week for you. And I would’ve been cursed anyway, so it wouldn’t feel so bad.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Kara stops you, looking confused. “You wanted to stay?”

“No!” You think about it for a second. “Not stay. No. Just-you know-If I had perhaps stayed longer then yeah, it would’ve been fun to learn that.”

“You can learn how to use a gun here!” Kara says, and Lena furrows her brows.

“No, she can’t.” She looks at you. “No, you can’t. Maybe when you’re older.”

“Right. Moms wouldn’t let me touch a gun either.”

“We are your moms.” It’s out of Kara’s mouth like she hadn’t given much thought to it. But you know she has, because she looks stung. You’ve noticed how she flinched every time you referred to Regina and Emma as moms, but it’s out of your mouth before you can stop yourself to think about it. For a year that’s what you’ve been saying every day. It’s hard to call them just anything else. Almost disrespectful even. But you don’t want to make Kara and Lena upset, so you have to watch out for that.

You try to say something after that. But it’s like your mind keeps erasing itself. ‘Ok, fine, sorry, sure you are momma!’ are all things that almost make it out of your mouth. Instead, you settle for, “Can I have some M&M pancakes?”

“Sure, babygirl.” Lena gets up and gets behind the counter. You go back to your phone, too embarrassed to look at Kara again. She doesn’t say anything about it either.

You talk about other things. They tell you how crazy it was to find you, and what they did all week while you were gone. Apparently it was mostly crying and blaming themselves for your disappearance.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To school. To see Jamie and Maya.”

“Where are your glasses?” Kara asks and you touch your face to realize that you haven’t been wearing them at all.

“Ugh.” You grunt and mumble right after. “I hate those stupid glasses. Can’t believe I have to wear them again.”

You run to your bedroom and find an old pair tossed around. Stupid disguise. Stupid glasses. Stupid secret identity.

“Ok. Can I go now?” You ask when you make it back to the living room.

Lena lets out a forced smile out of her lips, and Kara gives you the most awkward thumbs up in history. Well, there’s a lot to unpack there. So maybe leave it for later.

“Hey!”

“No way in hell!” It’s Jamie’s first response when she sees you in front of your old school. “You grew taller in a week?”

“Something like that.” You smile finally looking down on her. Rao, it feels so good to finally be taller than Jamie. You’ve been hearing about it for years! “Hey, babe.”

“Holy fuck, look at you!” Maya says with the biggest smile on her face. “I don’t see you for a week and you show up here looking like a superhero!”

“Well…” You give her a little side flirty smile. “Is that a good thing?”

“You look great, babe.” Maya’s arms go around your neck and she tiptoes to kiss your mouth. You hold her by the waist, making it easier for her to kiss you.

“God, I’ve missed kissing you.” You let out after you part your lips.

“It’s been a week, stop being so melodramatic.” Jamie rolls her eyes, and you smile, letting go of Maya to hug her too.

“I’ve missed you too, dipshit.”

“Oh.” Jamie lets out a surprised sound. “I guess you’re not so dramatic then.”

You want to tell them, right there, about how it was not just a week. About your different life in the past year. But the girls from your school who used to bully you pass right next to you, and your heart beats faster anticipating the teasing.

But they don’t say a thing. In fact, what they say after they pass you, and you catch using your super hearing, is that you must be a new student. You smile, relieved. Getting taller and cutting your hair. You wish you had known it would make your life a lot easier.

“Ice-cream?” You smile at them and get positive responses at that. Two hours with them and it feels like you’ve never left. Feels good to be with them. It makes you remember that even though your life in National City is not always easy, it’s still pretty great. And that you shouldn’t take that for granted.

You and Jamie walk Maya home, and you’re not even scared of her parents' reaction anymore. It’s not like they’ll recognize you, anyway. And later, you fly Jamie back to her house. You say a quick hello to Alex and Kelly, then fly back home.

“Hey.” You throw yourself on the couch between your moms, with a smile on your face. You look at the box of donuts in front of them, just sitting there waiting for you to arrive and your smile grows wider. “Sorry I was gone for a while. But can I make it up to you both with some hugs and forehead kisses?”

“Oh! Me first!” Kara asks and you smile, throwing your arms around her, and resting your chin on her shoulders.

“You’re my mommy. No one will ever take that away from you.” You whisper in her ear, and feel Kara’s body fully relax in your embrace, while she lets out a relieved sigh.

“I love you more than words can explain it, kid.” You smile and let her go a little, just to look into her eyes.

“I know the words.” You rest your forehead against hers and smile. “You’re my heart.”

“You’re my heart, little one.”

“Can I get a sweet moment like this too?” Lena asks and you chuckle, pulling her close for a tight hug.

“You also don’t have to worry about anyone taking your place.” You say softly in her ear. “You carried me inside of you for nine months, and I’ll carry you inside of me for the rest of my life.”

“Oh God.” Lena says, choking up and wetting the back of your t-shirt with her tears. “I swear this is the loveliest thing someone has ever told me.”

“It’s true.” You smile and kiss her forehead right after. “I love you mom.”

“Oh, I love you, babygirl.”

“And we’re stronger together.” You say, and feel their arms go around you at the same time, in a family hug.

Sure you will miss being called ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’, but nothing beats being called ‘little one’ and ‘babygirl’. And nothing ever will. National City may not make you feel as good as Storybrooke did, but the people here surely make up for that.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #reader insert

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skullrock · 3 years

Text

stay - Steve x Reader

12 days of Christmas fics, day 6 - stay

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve thinks it’s too cold for Reader to go home, and they agree. Tipsy shenanigans ensue. smut <3

warnings: gentle smut! alcohol mentions and swearin also

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this boi mouthy as heck ! I like writing talkative Steve so much... anyway ! hope u enjoy this! pls heed the smut caution. you can see the masterlist for tdocf here and join the taglist here.

“Steve, I have to go.”

“One more,” he says, pulling you into him and kissing you again. He tastes like the wine you’d spent the last few hours sharing. He pulls back and smiles dopily. “Okay, wait, one more -“

“Steve,” you say again, pulling away from him, cheeks flushed. “It’s late and there’s going to be snow. I need to leave before I get snowed in.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says, watching you grab your coat. “Is it so bad to have to spend a night with your boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“You don’t need any.”

You throw a glove at him. “Perv.”

“Got me.”

You lace up your boots and turn to face him. Steve’s smiling sadly - he always gets like this, tipsy or not. Never wants you to go, ever. He understands you need space sometimes - and so does he - but, god, does he miss you when you’re gone. He holds his arms out and you walk into them, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you promise. “Unless the snow is bad, in which case, I’ll call you.”

“Not good enough,” he pouts. “Just be snowed in with me. It’s too cold for you to leave.” He smiles. “We have booze here!”

You contemplate it for a moment, but you don’t know how long the blizzard will last. You didn’t want to be stuck in the same outfit for days, and even though Steve insists you can wear his clothes, they don’t exactly fit. So you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Next time.”

He scoffs. “Next time? What if it never snows again?”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He shrugs and kisses the top of your head. “Fine. I won’t make you stay.”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, okay?”

He nods and crosses his arms, watching as you open the front door of his apartment. You move to step outside, but the reality of the weather slaps you in the face. The roads were covered, to the point where they were nonexistent. There had to almost be a half a foot of snow - the sidewalks were covered. And it was freezing, way colder than it was when you arrived in the early afternoon.

“Holy shit,” you say.

“Holy shit,” Steve repeats behind you. “Did we make out that long?”

“How did it show this much in eight hours?”

Steve makes an I don’t know noise and snakes his arms around your waist. “Looks like you’re gonna have to stay.”

You shut the door and turn to face him, trying to hide your smile. “You did this.”

“I did,” he says, pulling you inside more and stumbling slightly. “I paid Jack Frost one million dollars to make a blizzard.” He frowns slightly. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No way. You can’t drive as is, let alone with snow on the road and wine in your system.” Steve rolls his eyes and you kiss his jaw. “I guess I can spend the night.”

Steve smiles and fiddles with the zipper on your coat. “Take this stupid thing off.”

“Oh, you want to pick right back up, huh?”

“Always,” he says, absentminded, tugging your zipper down. “I think our session got cut… short.” He leans down to kiss under your ear, and you groan.

“Can you not be horny for five minutes?”

“Never in my life,” he murmurs, pushing the coat off of your shoulders. “Want me to get your boots?”

“I can,” you say, smirking. You turn around and bend down, making Steve groan, as you untie them.

“It’s not my fault I’m always horny when you do that.”

“What?” you say innocently. Alcohol always left you feeling a little bolder. “I’m just untying my shoes.”

Steve moves to the couch, waiting for you and turning a random channel on to act as ambient noise. The TV plays How The Grinch Stole Christmas, and you scrunch your nose as you come to join him.

“We can’t watch the Grinch while we fuck,” you say.

Steve reaches out to pull you onto his lap. “Why not? It’s festive, it’s fun, it’s definitely sexy -“

“Steve, you have to find something else!”

He rolls his eyes but grabs the remote and flips until he finds another movie. This time, he settles with A Christmas Story.

“Not this, either,” you argue. “There’s kids in it.”

“They aren’t watching us!”

“Well -“

Steve kisses you roughly, which easily shuts you up. He smiles against your lips and murmurs, “That worked.”

You pinch his side and he jumps before kissing you again, pulling you as close to him as possible. He loves feeling your warmth against his chest - being close to you was the happiest he ever felt. He groans when you wrap your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, just enough to rile him up. His hand ghosts at the hem of your shirt before he slides up to cup your breast.

You gasp. “Fuck, Steve.”

“You like that?”

“No, you’re freezing.”

Steve laughs loudly. “I can warm it up right here, then.”

“Whatever works,” you say, and sigh when his lips meet your neck, sucking gently at the skin. He flicks his tongue out before sucking again and moving down, placing careful kisses where he knows you like it. You grind down on him and he moans, bucking his hips up to make you moan.

“You sound so pretty,” he says, gently moving his fingers over your chest. “Look pretty, too.”

“So do you.” You tug at his hair again and he moans once more. “So pretty, Stevie.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he says, moving his hand from under your shirt and tugging on it. “Can I see you?”

“You mean the girls?”

“Hell yeah,” he breathes, and helps you move your sweater off.

He’s seen you countless times like this, but the sight always makes his breath hitch. All of you was beautiful - the softness, the squishiness, the curves. You were so soft to touch - and Steve moves his fingertips over your skin, admiring that fact. He smiles when you moan, bucking against him. His hands move to your bra, but just to tease you, not to take it off.

“You were so eager earlier,” you whisper. “And now you want to stall?”

“Not stalling,” he whispers back, eyes tracing over your body. “Just admiring.”

You blush and bite your lip as his fingers move to the band of your bra, unclasping it. He sits the bra aside and stares again, biting his lip too, before reaching out to touch you. You grind on him again as he pinches and squeezes, trying to get him to do more.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, looking up at you. “I want to take my time, okay? Show you how much I love you.”

You smile and run a hand through his hair before moving to grip his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling, and then leans forward to kiss along your chest. You groan but stay still for him, trying to be patient as he works on you slowly. It’s kind of torture - you’d been fooling around all day just to be teased again. But Steve’s look of pure adoration makes the wait worth it.

“Steve,” you moan, his lips meeting one of your nipples.

“What?” he asks, pulling back and smirking.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Maybe if you asked nicely….”

You roll your eyes. “Steve. Play with my tits.”

“Please?”

“Please.”

“You’re so polite,” he jokes, then leans forward again to suck a nipple into his mouth. Your hips buck and he moves a hand down to gently grab your waist, steadying you. You dig your fingers into his shoulders as he continues, rolling his tongue over you before sucking again, nipping gently to make you squirm. His grip on your hip becomes harder the more he gets into it, and he’s soon letting out little moans of his own.

“M-more,” you moan, grinding on him. “Please.”

Steve smiles and kisses up your neck again, once more sucking on the sensitive skin there. Frustrated, you grip his hair and tug his head back before littering his neck with kisses, flicking your tongue out just as he was with you. Steve groans and bucks his hips, mouth falling open at the feeling.

“Such pretty sounds, Stevie,” you mock, whispering into his ear. “I think you have too many clothes on.”

“Up,” he breathes, and you roll off of him, working to unbutton your pants as he rips his own clothes off. He sits, and you slide off the couch and onto your knees, smirking as you place yourself in front of him. He’s already hard, tip pink and leaking, and he looks lost for words as you look up at him.

“Someone’s excited.”

“I… yeah,” he says, staring at you with blown pupils.

“Don’t watch the TV,” you say, and he shakes his head fervently.

“No way,” he promises.

You kiss the inside of his thigh gently, trying to hold back a smile as he already starts squirming above you. You alternate thighs with each kiss, moving slow and gentle, flicking your tongue out to make him huff. You kiss at the base of his cock, then up, finally licking at his tip. He groans and throws his head back, but you pinch him gently. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

“Trying,” he pants, looking back at you. “You’re too hot.”

“I know,” you tease.

“Maybe….” he trails off as you lick his tip again, but you stop.

“No, say it.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep the laugh from bubbling out. “Maybe you could, like, melt the snow.”

“Steve, shut up,” you laugh. “I’m trying to blow you and this is what you give me?”

“You should know how I act by now,” he says, and then gasps when you wrap your lips around his head.

Steve is never quiet. Ever. But he’s especially never quiet during sex. Whether that’s talking, or moaning, or just babbling, he can’t shut up. Add alcohol and he’s a blabbering mess. You listen as he groans and swears above you, taking him in more and more with each bob of your head. You move your hand to his base and move your head in tandem as you pump him.

“Oh, fuck, yes, like that, good -“

“You taste so good,” you moan, moving to kiss his tummy before taking him into your mouth again.

“O-oh, oh, Jesus,” he breathes. “Keep - please - talking -“

You move off of him, continuing your movements with your hand. “You’re so handsome, babe, just look how pretty this cock is.”

“Yes,” he moans, reaching his hand down to tangle in your hair.

Your cheeks redden before you say, “You want me to fuck myself on it?”

Steve moans loudly and pulls you up suddenly, laying you on the couch. He moves to the end of it, trying to face your wet core, but his legs dangle miserably off of the couch end.

“We can go to bed,” you start, but Steve cuts you off.

“Can’t wait,” he says, pulling you towards him awkwardly. “I - god, this hurts my dick-“

“Your bed is -“

Steve’s mouth on your clit makes you interrupt your sentence with a moan. He pulls you closer, licks a stripe up you, before sucking gently at your clit.

“F - Steve -“

“Could eat you out forever,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your clit. His eyes dart up to you and he’s temporarily distracted by how beautiful you look - like an angel, quite honestly. “You’re so gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m only in it for the money.”

“That sucks, because I have none,” he says, then leans forward to flick his tongue against your clit.

“G… good thing… you have a… nice dick,” you pant, and he smirks into you, gently fucking his tongue into you for a few moments before leaning back.

“I’m funny, too. And handsome. And athletic.”

“And smart, and brave, and the nicest person I’ve ever met.” You reach down to run your hand through his hair and he smiles gently up at you.

“Do you want to get off, or keep complimenting me?” He kisses your thigh. “I could go with either.”

Before you can answer, his mouth is on you again. He swirls his tongue around your nub and then fucks his tongue into you gently, never taking his eyes off of your face as he does. He feels himself leaking as you writhe under him, moaning out his name, trying to grind yourself on his face.

“Patience,” he says, pulling away. “Just relax, okay?”

“O… okay.”

Steve works on you again, forcing himself to go slower this time, moving his tongue gently around your core. His legs hurt from hanging off the end of the couch - he thinks it has to look comical - but he doesn’t care. He only cares about you and your pleasure, making you feel good, showing how much he loved you. When your legs start to shake, he pulls back, smiling smugly at you. “Coming so soon?”

“You’re good,” you say, sitting up so that he can awkwardly maneuver himself back onto the couch. You straddle him again, both of you moaning when the head of his cock presses against your folds. You kiss him as passionately and as slowly as you can, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Steve once again pulls you as close as possible, running his hands along your back slowly. Everything was slow, and as much as you wanted him, this felt good, too.

“Hold on,” he pants. “Gotta get a condom.”

“Whyyy,” you whine, climbing off of him. “Can’t you just grow one?”

He scrunches his nose and stumbles again as he heads for his room. “Gross!”

He comes back from his room with a condom and lube - why he wouldn’t just take you to the bed, you don’t know - and he stands in front of you. “How do you want this?”

“Let me ride you,” you say eagerly.

Steve smirks and sits, rolling the condom onto himself. “Just can’t resist me, huh?”

“We would have sex either way,” you say, straddling him again. You take the lube from him and pour some onto the condom, making him groan.

“Yeah, but you’re so obsessed with me,” he says.

Your brain hurts as you try to understand what he’s saying, the alcohol not helping. “Your penis would go into my vagina in literally any position.”

“Yeah, but you want to top me so bad.”

“Do you want me to tell you I love your cock?”

“That would be nice,” he smiles.

Without warning, you sink down onto him, slowly, but enough to make his mouth drop. You bite your lip as you sit on him, feeling him twitch inside of you, and you rest when you’re fully seated. Steve’s still, somehow, pleased into silence, staring at you with his mouth open. You lean forward and press your lips against his ear. “Your cock is incredible.”

Steve groans and grabs your hips. “More, please?”

You rise up slowly, then move back down slowly. Steve’s head lolls back to the couch, but you follow his ear with your lips. “Fill me up so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” he asks, licking his lips, voice cracking.

“So fucking good,” you promise, moving your hips again. “You’re so cute, Steve.”

He mumbles a thank you and you kiss his cheek before picking up the pace, hands on Steve’s shoulders. His mouth falls open and he gets loud again, speaking gibberish and swearing, slowly rocking up into you to meet your hips. Your mouth falls back open when he moves a hand down to circle your clit with his lean fingers. “Oh, fuck, Steve!”

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good?”

You can only nod, continuing to ride him, until he suddenly starts thrusting up into you. He’s quick and hard, and you lean forward to bury your face into the crook of his neck as he continues. He wraps an arm around the back of your waist, his other hand still working at your clit.

“You feel so good,” he groans. “Squeezing me so tight. So hot.”

You laugh suddenly, but Steve’s pace doesn’t falter, even though his brows quirk together.

“Am I go- shit - gonna melt your dick?”

Steve laughs, then moans. “Y… yeah, maybe.”

You grab his face to kiss him as he continues. You almost die when he slides his tongue into your mouth, cock hitting just the right spots. You know you’re close, but you want to focus on Steve, so you move your feet to pin his legs to the couch.

“What?” he pants. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Wanna be nice and gentle with you,” you whisper, and then start riding him again, slow and deep. Steve moans and presses his hips into the couch to prevent himself from fucking up into you. When you move to suck on his neck again, he whines, and tries to move your hips down on his cock faster.

“Patience,” you moan.

“Goin’ crazy,” he moans. “I’m… I’m close, sweetheart-“

“Come for me, baby boy,” you whisper, right into his ear, making goosebumps form on his skin. “Wanna feel you come in me, sweet boy. Want you to feel good.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and works his fingers against your clit quickly, trying to get you to come with him. You gasp and shudder into him, moaning “I’m close,” into his ear, and that’s when he finally lets himself come undone. He shivers and moans loudly, eyes rolling back, thrusting up into you gently. You come soon after, shaking on him, pressing yourself against his chest.

“Shit,” he breathes after a moment. “Holy….”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah.”

“You okay?” he asks, folding his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest.

“Hell yeah I am,” you laugh. “You?”

“Never better.”

You kiss for a moment before sliding off of him. He ties and throws away the condom before joining you on the couch, chest pressed against yours. He kisses you again, gentle and light. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you murmur. “You’re so good and handsome and kind, Stevie.”

He moves to rest his head on your chest, eyes falling shut as you play with his hair.

“Did you tell Jack Frost you needed it to snow to get laid?”

Steve smiles into your skin. “I know I don’t need snow to get you to sleep with me.”

“Just a bottle of wine, right?”

“Noooo,” he says. “You wanna fuck me all the time.”

“True,” you say, pressing a kiss to his head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

His eyes drift shut as you both watch the end of A Christmas Story, listening to your heartbeat as he holds you.

“Do you wanna move to your bed now?”

“No,” he yawns. “It’s not time to sleep yet.”

“You’re falling asleep right now, Steve.”

“No I’m not,” he says, closing his eyes again. “I’m just laying here.”

You laugh. “You’re impossible, Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiles sleepily. “And you’re beautiful.”

===

steeb tags: @harrington-ofhawkins @harringtonisadingus @sassisaluxury @gothackedalready @willowrose99 @pxtrickhxckstettxr @harringtown @m-blasterrr @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @kurtsbuckethat @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @astil-be @troop-scoop @ilovebucketbarnes @punchdescartes@metuel18 @dark-academics-and-florals @simplesammyx @lukeskisses @write-from-the-heart @bethhxrmon @flyingrichardgrayson @scoopsahoy @strangest-hour @lucifer-reads @stevexscoops @prettysbliss @patientplum @theworriedman

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #ns/fw #smut #sorry this is late!!!#better l8 than never!

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Hot-shot, Hot-head | Clint Barton

Hey lovelies! Here's another one for Dinner at Dizzy's! I actually really like this one. Clint Barton is super close to my heart. I remember watching the avengers for the first time when it first came out (and Thor before that) and just falling in love lol. Treat him well lovelies and please do enjoy.

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff / Angst (more so fluff)

Entres (Pairing): Clint Barton x F!Reader (third person)

Sides (Prompts): 7: “Teach me.”

Notes: None, requested by an anon

Word Count: 2.9k (lol I don't even have an excuse anymore)

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

“God damnit!” She hisses as the bow string snaps back against her fingers, the sting making her fumble the bow.

She catches it— like she always does— but not without another curse. She resists the urge to slam the hunk of metal against the grass, her muscles squeezing so tight she could scream. He makes it look so fucking easy. It’s not— it’s impossible. She wants her pistol back and glass of water. Water or wine. Same thing. Screw Barton and how ridiculously nimble he is— she thought she was supposed to be the agile one.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. She bites back a groan when she hears footsteps sound from behind her, rolling her eyes before spinning on the brunette, scowling at the gleeful squint of his bright blue eyes. He’s always so smug. In all of her years of knowing him that has never changed.

“Told you it’s not as simple as it looks.” He simpers, his smile so wide she wants to throw him to the ground right here, right now, and slap it off.

Slap, kiss— same thing.

“If you came out here to mock me, Barton, feel free to not.” She scrunches her nose— it’s the only thing she can do to keep the smile off her face.

Why does his grin always have to be so infectious? She wants to be annoyed still— she was annoyed before she turned around so why can’t she still be annoyed now? It’s infuriating and awful and so damn endearing. God, if she could go back to training and strangle Fury she honestly just might. What was he thinking, pairing her for fucking life with Clint Barton. She glances at the man and the smirk in his eyes and she presses her lips together.

He notices— of course he notices, they trained together, their reflexes are the same. It’s what makes them such good partners— they were created to be a team. Fucking Fury. Well, a team in one sense at least. The other not so much. She shoves the thought to the back of her head, finally letting the smile break out on her face.

“Someone has to, hot-shot.” He settles against the tree behind him, muscled arms crossing over his chest, puppy dog smile still just as wide.

God where the fuck is she supposed to look? There’s nowhere left— not the corded veins along his arms, not the golden skin peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt, not the the glint in his icy eyes that she can’t tell whether it’s from the sun or is just always there— she’s being attacked on all sides and all she has is this stupid bow— his stupid bow.

She drops her shoulders, rolling her eyes again and caving to his larkish voice— she always does. “I guess it’s fair. Shouldn’t rag on you so much for your terrible shot—”

“I don’t have a terrible—” He begins to protest, pushing from the tree and stepping closer to her.

She presses her fingers to his chest when he gets a few inches away, trying to keep her breathing in check. “With a pistol. Ten years later and he still interrupts. Good to know some things never change, hot-head.”

She beams up at him, palms flat against his broad chest, forcing herself to ignore the heat seeping from the thin material. It feels like at any moment he’s going to burn her, much too hot for his own good. Being this close to him she can smell his woodsy, citrus scent— like the damn sun— and she takes a step back. Co-workers. Partners. Best friends.

Nothing more.

“Ten years later and she still does everything in her power to make me interrupt. Terrible shot. Who taught you to fight so dirty, huh?” He peers down at her as he pushes past her, fingers flicking at her jaw, and she bites her tongue because it’s starting to feel like he’s asking her to say something she’ll regret.

“Uhm you? You did— weren’t you the one who kicked my knees in on the first day of training?”

He’s a good few feet in front of her now— stupid long legs— and she sucks in a breath of fresh air, her skin tingling as her body cycles him out of her blood. There’s no point, he’ll be back in a moment. He’s always back— always annoying and around and warm.

He glances back over his shoulder— “You mean right after you broke my nose, right darlin’?”

She lets her gaze flick to his nose and the faint bump on the ridge where she had jutted her palm into it all those years ago. The academy nurses are good— she can only see the blemish when she’s looking for it. Too bad her jab is better. It suits him at least— everything does.

“I did do that, didn’t I?” She hums, meeting him once more and standing on her tiptoes to get a better look. He leans down, staring at her from over the crook. “Maybe I was marking you Barton— I made ya’ pretty.”

He hands her the arrows, fingers clasping over her own for a moment, encasing her in that warmth again. “Couldn’t have found any other way, huh?”

She has to force herself to meet his banter, suddenly breathless and woozy, still wobbling on her tiptoes. “Thought you liked the violence— you did back then.”

He holds her gaze, fingers tightening so minutely that she’s sure if she were anyone else she wouldn’t have noticed. She wouldn’t notice how his eyes skim over her face before flicking over her head quickly, how his shoulders square defensively, how even when there’s no one around he’s always watching her back. But she isn’t anyone else— she’s her and she notices everything he does.

He meets her gaze again, muscles easing slightly, and her lungs scream at her because all she can taste is lemons and juniper.“Oh I love the violence.”

She tugs the arrows— and by default her hand— from his hold, searching desperately for an escape in the open air in front of her. The targets taunt her from across the field, the little pin prick holes in the middle of the red bullseye leering. She wants to throw the bow again— where the fuck is her gun?

“Why am I doing this again?” She groans and he laughs, his hand curling around her neck, thumb digging into the knots in her shoulder blade.

“‘Cause one day you won’t have bullets.” He supplies, voice too close to her ear for her to make much sense of the words. They’re like honey— too sweet, too slow.

Still she shrugs. “Won’t I have you, though? You planning on ditching me, Barton?”

Beyond the teasing she can hear the insecurity laced in her words and she wants to slap herself for potentially ruining the sunny afternoon. She can practically feel the switch in the atmosphere. The lighthearted banter fading into cold seriousness. She swallows, closing her eyes. Even after ten years she’s still terrified that one day she’s going to wake up and he won’t be in the kitchen pouring the sugar into her coffee and burning the toast. Joining the academy was her chance— at freedom, at family— and Clint was— is— the payoff of those hard years. She would be utterly lost if one day he just wasn’t there.

His hand stills, thumb still pressing into her skin, chest tensing where it just barely brushes her back. For a moment they just stand there, the only noise being the soft thud of the bow landing in the grass. A few seconds later the arrows join. She doesn’t drop them on purpose— she would never carelessly throw his things around— she just can’t feel her hands anymore. When she brings them together, wringing them together, she isn’t surprised to find them trembling. She can feel him start to shake his head, hair brushing against her temple before the words are even out of his mouth.

“Don’t even say that. Don’t. Or think about it. Ever again— you hear me? I thought I was the dumb one.” He tries to say it like a joke— she can hear him forcing his tone to stay light— but his voice is too gravelly, his words spiking too low.

She presses her lips together again, nodding. “Sorry—” she mumbles, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead, sinking back slightly to knock her shoulder into his chest— “was just— just over thinking, I guess. Stressed myself out.”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her against his chest. She tips her head back, putting her weight on him. It’s not unusual— it would be more unusual if she didn’t cuddle into him. That’s why she does it despite how terribly she wants to pull away. She can’t stay in his citrus arms— in this fever dream. She needs to break the spell. Maybe spend some days in the woods soon, alone, resetting her brain. She’s had to do that a few times.

“Not going anywhere.” He mumbles, hands closing around her arms, his jaw— scratchy and rough from stubble— rubbing against her shoulder. “You know that. Not now, definitely not in a fuckin’ appocalypse—” she laughs at that and he rocks on his heels, letting out a soft hum— “We’re in this together. Where the hell would I even go?”

He whispers that last part, probably hoping she wouldn’t hear, but his mouth is right there and she’s tuned into everything him. She can hear the worry, feel the rumble against her back. Shit. They’re both spiraling now and she’ll be damned if she brings her down with him. She has to do something.

“Teach me.”

He freezes behind her, hands softening their grip. When he speaks his voice is a little tighter than normal— hesitant, maybe. “What was that, darlin’?”

She goes to pull out of his arms again, bending to retrieve the bow, but she only ends up pulling him with her, the giant man curling around her easily. Too easily. She clenches her jaw, fighting the sudden urge to whirl around and push him to the ground.

Push him to the ground and climb on top of him.

“Teach me how to use this stupid thing, Barton. Can’t do it— you were right.”

Apparently she doesn’t have whirl around— he does it for her, spinning her so quickly that the heavy metal almost whacks him. He pries it gently from her fingers, releasing it back onto the grass. She almost protests— what the hell was she so afraid of dropping it for when he practically just threw it? — but before she can he’s pulling her off her toes and spinning her around.

“Clint what are you doing—”

“Ten years— it’s taken ten years for you to say those words.” He laughs and she swats the nape of his neck, rolling her eyes, feet dangling off the ground. It’s all she can do to not curl them around his hips. “And you tell me my ego is big.”

She scrunches her nose at the man, eyes dipping over his crinkled eyes and triumphant smile, once again fighting the curve of her own lips. “You’ve been waiting for me to ask for help?”

He snorts, dropping her on her toes before slumping onto the grass, sprawling out on his back— clearly not about to actually do as she asked. “No— if you wanted to learn that badly you would have by now. You’re not stupid, just stubborn.”

Clint leans up, warm hand curling around her ankle and yanking, pulling her feet out from under her and sending her flying. Before she has time to scream— hell, to even think about screaming— his arm is hooking around her stomach, catching her midair and lowering her easily to his chest. Ten years and she’s still never ready for that. She goes to drive her elbow back against his ribs but he catches her, grabbing her arm and instead pulling her to rest across his stomach.

She grumbles but turns anyway, cheek pressing against hard, warm muscle, meeting his gaze from where his head rests on his folded arms. “Then what?”

He flashes her another toothy grin— that can’t be good. “Was waiting for you to tell me I was right about something. Took you long enough.”

She scowls. “Shut up, will you?”

“Awe, is someone angry that I won?” He teases, his voice warmer than the sunshine on the bits of her exposed face.

“Barton, I said shut up.”

His laugh is too easy. Too musical. It rumbles against the parts of her that are pressed against him and makes the rest of her ache, wanting to be pressed against him as well.

“Geez, someone’s touchy today.”

As if to enhance his point he runs a gentle finger over the top of her spine, right where her tank top stops, and she has to clench her jaw against the heat that pools in the pit of her stomach and the shiver that races down her back. It’s the final straw. Ten years is a lot of straws— maybe she’s a hoarder of said straws— but finally her last one has broken. She can’t take it anymore. She bolts upright.

“Shit—” he mutters lowly, probably not intending for it to reach her ears, before speaking louder— “c’mon darlin’ I was just messing with you—”

She swings her leg over his stomach, knees caging him underneath her, thighs spreading deliciously over his warm abdomen, and his mouth snaps shut. He’s up on his elbows, no doubt because he had been worried and was on his way up to check on her, but now it only serves to bring them closer together. For a moment all she does is look at him, chest heaving, palms pressed against his chest and anticipation laced in every muscle. Each breath he takes tortures her— what’s he thinking?

She’s never thought Clint Barton to be a mind reader but maybe anything is possible at this point because as soon as she thinks it his crystal eyes narrow, his pink lips quirking up. “Are you going to make the first move or do I have to?”

Butterflies erupt in her stomach— wait, no, that’s just her gut twisting as he flips her over so fast that she doesn’t have time to blink. Dammit he’s quick. She’s quick too, though, legs finally curling around his hips to keep her back from crashing against the ground. She doesn’t remember wrapping her arms around his shoulders but when her head stops spinning she can feel her fingers digging at his arms. Her back eases against the ground, one of his arms slipping under her head, his other hooking around her thigh and pressing her that much closer to him.

His nose bumps against hers, breath hot on her lips, and she doesn’t try to fight the smile this time. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

His lips brush against hers, just a wisp— a promise— of what’s to come, and she squeezes her thighs tighter, pulling a raspy groan from his mouth. “Gave you ten years, didn’t I?”

She hums, lips pressing against the corner of his mouth. “You did— what on earth is wrong with you Barton?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re really something, you know that?”

She kisses the other corner, just barely brushing her mouth against his as she passes, reveling in the way his hips push her harder into the grass. “Someone’s touchy today—”

The rest of her words are cut off— they’re swallowed— by two warmer-than-sin lips. He tastes like candy. Like red licorice and lemon drops. That’s all it takes for her to kiss him back, hands slipping into his hair and yanking— maybe she should be gentler but she can’t help it. She’s been patient, she’s paid her dues. Besides, if the moan that rips from his lungs and passes over her tongue— all needy and wild and lemon tinted— is anything to go by then she would say he doesn’t mind it. His tongue slips into her mouth, caressing hers, and she returns his moan with one of her own.

“Why— he mumbles into her open mouth, pausing momentarily to tug her bottom lip between his teeth and groan— “why didn’t we do this earlier? Like—” his lips skim over her cheek, up to her ear, tugging on her earlobe next— “like ten-years-ago sooner?”

She turns her face towards him, following him as he moves down her neck, lips pressing against his cheek. She doesn’t want to detach from him now. She doesn’t think she’ll ever want to. Her mouth slants against him, teeth nipping at his jaw, and he hikes her higher up his body. Her fingers are still tangled in his silky hair, raking through the strands and trying to memorize the feeling.

“I don’t know.” she mumbles against him— she can’t bring herself to find a witty remark, she just wants more.

He pulls back, ducking his head, lips swollen and eyes sparkling. “That was passive of you, hot-shot.”

“Barton.”

For once he doesn’t need to be told twice, leaning back down, nose bumping against her with another brain melting chuckle. She arches up, impatient for his touch. Before his lips skim hers he says something else, though. It’s like he can’t help but annoy her every chance he gets.

“Maybe you’re the hot-head after all.”

#Clint Barton #hawkeye x y/n #hawkeye x reader #clint barton x y/n #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #clint barton fic #hawkeye fic #clint barton imagine #hawkeye imagine #clint barton fluff #clint barton angst #hawkeye fluff #hawkeye angst #mcu fic #mcu #marvel cinematic universe fic #marvel cinematic univers #Dinner at Dizzy's

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

True love

9000 followers celebration - sequels

Pairing: Thor x fem!Reader, former Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, former Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, self-doubts, comforting, fluff, Thor being a sweetheart, we talk a lot about roses, falling in love, angry Thor, soft Thor, cuddling & snuggling, implied smut

A/N: Sequel to: Wasted love

A/N: divider by @writeyourmindaway

Two weeks after you broke up with Steve and Bucky…

“You should eat something, Lady Y/N,” Thor knocks at your door once again. “My dove open the door, please. I know Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes hurt you deeply, but I’m worried about you.”

“Thor,” sighing you open the door, poking your head out, “I’m fine, promised. I just need more time to forget I wasted so much time on Steve and Bucky. I believed they love me, Thor. How could they do this to me?”

“I don’t know, my love but, if you are willing to let me in, I’d like to tell you about Asgard, my home,” Thor looks at you, offering you a single white rose. “Wanda told me the meaning of white roses, my dove.”

“Thor, you shouldn’t waste your time on me,” not giving in Thor enters your room when you open the door wider. “I’m not worth it.”

“Lady Y/N, never say things like that again,” he offers you the rose once more and you take it, sniffling silently.

“What did she tell you about the meaning of a white rose, Thor?” you watch Thor sit on your sofa, huffing as the furniture creaks under his weight.

“Lady Wanda said that a white rose represents purity, innocence, and youthfulness,” you giggle at Thor’s serious expression. He holds out his hand to bring you into his arms. You squeak, giggling again as he wraps his strong arms around you to cradle you in his arms. “She also said that white roses are often associated with first love and eternal loyalty,” you look up at Thor, giving him a soft smile as he wipes your tears off your cheeks with his thumb.

“Eternal loyalty?” humming the Asgardian looks at you in his arms, a soft smile playing on his lips. “White roses can also symbolize a new beginning and everlasting love, Y/N. I want to give you all of it.”

“Thor, I just broke up with two guys,” you sigh deeply, head resting against Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t think you want what’s left of me. I’m a fool for love and got played well. Luckily I didn’t get pregnant,” Thor growls low in his throat, already imagining you round with his child.

“You’re not a fool for loving someone, my dove,” humming you close your eyes as Thor starts to talk about Asgard, his friends, Mjolnir, and how much your smile helped his broken heart to heal. “You deserve all the love in the world, Y/N. I will give it to you.”

Only moments later you sleep peacefully in Thor’s arms for the first time since you broke things off with Steve and Bucky.

Two months later…

“No, Y/N,” Thor booms through the gym. “You will not back down only as they are here too,” the Asgardian slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you toward the treadmill. “You promised to help me train, my dove. We will ignore the men breaking your heart and have fun.”

“Fun?” you huff, looking around the gym. “Thor, training is no fun for me! I’m not a god or something. Everything aches after training, okay. Sometimes I even get a headache.”

“My love, I will rub your back and take care of you,” the smile Thor flashes you let Bucky and Steve fade into the background. “I will help you.”

“I’ll take your offer with pleasure,” you laugh as Thor scoops you up easily to carry you toward the treadmill. “Hey, what are you doing?” Instead of placing you onto your feet, Thor starts to run on the treadmill, you still in his arms.

“Training, my love,” Thor smirks, giving Bucky and Steve an angry look as they dared to look at you in his arms. “This way I’ll get stronger to protect you and you, my dove, won’t feel exhausted.”

“I like that kind of training,” you giggle, hiding your face in Thor’s chest. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Y/N…”

Four months later…

“Oh. My. God,” you look at the huge bouquet of roses in Thor’s arms as he walks into the common room. “How many roses did you buy?” giggling you watch Thor’s eyes light up when you rush toward him to sniff at the roses.

“It’s your birthday, my little one,” Thor smiles widely. “Wanda said red roses symbolize love and romance. I want to show you someone is loving you. I will wait for you, my dove,” pressing one hand to your heart you miss Steve’s pained expression as you start to sob uncontrollably.

“Oh, Thor,” you gasp when Thor hands you the roses. He brought two hundred and twenty-five and your legs give in. “Heavy.”

“Let me help you, Y/N,” Thor smirks at Bucky who gives him a bitch face as he doesn’t like Thor picks you up in bridal style to help you carry the roses toward your room.

“We will need so many vases, Thor,” not taking your eyes off the roses you smile as Thor doesn’t even know how much his gesture means to you. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Anytime, my love…”

Six months later…

“That’s beautiful,” you knew about Thor’s powers, even saw him fight using thunder and lightning but when he illuminates the sky only for you your heart begins to flutter.

You don’t see Steve and Bucky sulk in a corner, watching you step closer to Thor to stand on tiptoes. The tall Asgardian watches you with an amused smile when you cup his face to press your lips clumsily to his chin.

“You’re too tall,” whining you look up at Thor. He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grasp for your waist to lift you easily. “Better,” your arms wrap around his neck before you press your lips softly against Thor’s. “That was the greatest thunder and lightning I ever saw.”

“You liked it, Y/N?” mumbling the words against your lips Thor wraps his arms around you. “I’ll always give you the most beautiful thunder and lighting if you want me to.”

“I want you to,” you breathe against his lips. “Just give me a bit more time. I feel safe and loved around you, but I’m still scared of loving someone again.”

“I will give you time, my love. Just asked me to be there and I will, anytime – my dove…”

Eight months later…

“You look beautiful tonight, my love,” Thor compliments, holding out his arm to lead you into the ballroom. Natasha and Wanda helped you decide on a ballgown. It’s a simple blue robe with a slit, revealing your left leg. “No other woman can compare to you,” you smile up at Thor like he’s the sun and Steve feels like someone punched him in the guts.

“I hate it,” Steve grumbles, grasping for yet another drink which won’t ease the feeling in his stomach. “She should’ve been ours.”

“She was yours, Capsicle,” Tony flashes your former lovers a smile. Hell, you let the girl go. I don’t want to know why you messed up, but you did. Let Y/N be happy. If you try to intervene or if I see you only staring into her direction to make her feel unease, I’ll look for a way to get my hands-on a cryostasis chamber.”

“Y/N shouldn’t be with him,” Bucky grunts. “We messed up, okay. No reason for her to fall in love with that alien punk,” Wanda snickers at Bucky’s words, still, she slaps the back of his head.

“If Tony doesn’t punish you for disturbing Y/N’s date, I’ll do so. She deserves happiness. None of you was ready to give her love and devotion. You are selfish little men who used her for their pleasure,” Wanda pokes her finger into Bucky’s chest, giving him a bitch face. “Thor is the one she needs to heal the wounds you caused. Now shush and let her have a dance with the man loving her unconditionally.”

Almost 12 months later…

“My dove, oh-All-father, help me not to fall more for my queen,” Thor groans, falling onto the mattress with a loud thud. His chest heaves up and down as you crawl up his body, flashing him a grin. “You defeated me, my love.”

“I like little one more,” you whine, hiding your face in Thor’s neck. “I never thought that I can defeat a god,” Thor grins, ogling your naked form on top of his sweat-slicked body. “But I did.”

“You did, my dove,” his large hand runs up and down your back, tickling you with featherlight touches. “What you did with your mouth and hands, and your secret garden was divine.”

“Did you just call my pussy a secret garden?” giggling you cup Thor’s face to press soft kisses to his chin. “I like it, my king.”

“My mother used to call it like that or it’s similar to the words she used in our tongue. It described the secrets a woman is hiding from other men. That she will only find true satisfaction and fulfillment with the rightful man by her side and inside of her.”

“That’s beautiful and kinda dirty at the same time. I like it, Thor,” you rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes to inhale his scent. “Thank you for giving me back my trust in love, Thor. I know that I can trust you with my heart.”

“You can, my little one,” Thor purrs, hands shamelessly moving to your ass to grope it. “Now that I tasted your nectar, I’m a helpless slave to you, my dove,” humming you slide your fingers over his chest, drawing patterns with your fingertips. “I never want to taste anyone else’s.”

“I don’t want anyone else to taste my,” you giggle again, looking up at Thor, “nectar either, my king.”

Now…

“A ring? He got her a ring?” Steve chokes on the water he tried to drink. “When did that happen? Why? And how?”

“Last week. He wants to propose as they love each other,” Wanda shrugs, hiding her smirk poorly. “That’s all I know.”

“I heard them last night,” Bucky sighs. “He said something about her secret garden or crap again. I still don’t know what this means.”

“You don’t want to know,” Steve grits out. “I guess, we must congratulate them sooner or later Buck. This is our doing. If only we saw her sooner.”

“You snooze you lose,” Wanda giggles, walking out of the common room.

“Or we could just snatch her out of his hands, Stevie,” Bucky grins, forming a plan. “I got an idea…”

“It’s beautiful, Thor. Stop saying the ring is not perfect,” you close your eyes when Thor wraps his arms around your waist. “I don’t want a better ring. This one shows your love and devotion to me, my king. I really like it.”

“My dove,” Thor looks at the ring he got from a gumball machine, “I wanted it to be perfect. The ring I got was perfect. Then those monsters stole it and I had no other choice but to give you this one,” he points toward the pink ring on your finger. “I will get you a better one.”

“No, I like it,” you whine. “Let me have this one. I don’t care if it’s made of plastic or gold. You are the man I love, and I will marry you. A diamond ring or not,” you glare at Bucky and Steve who awkwardly watch you and Thor. “Don’t think we do not know it was you.”

“My dove let me bring you to our room,” Thor booms before a bolt of lightning strikes right next to Steve and Bucky. “Our bond is unbroken. Leave us be.”

“We lost,” Bucky hangs his head in shame. “How could I steal the ring? I’m no better than a criminal,” Steve nods, watching you and Thor walk toward your room.

“Let’s give it back, apologize, and wish them well. Y/N, she looks happy, Buck. Happier than with us,” admitting his defeat Steve looks at his friend. “We need to admit, Thor is Y/N’s true love, not us.”

“I hate it – but you’re right, Stevie…”

----

“I like it! I don’t want the other ring, Thor,” you purse your lips when Thor offers you the diamond ring Bucky and Steve gave back. “Let me keep this one till our wedding day. I like it.”

“I will do anything for you, anytime, my love…”

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