#although. honestly i am satisfied with this post being the end of it. here you go. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chirpsythismorning · 1 year

Note

I am glad that you mention that! Yes, Mike is both an action and words guy and it fits that he is the leader who gives support and love to those he loves, but I think you made a great point that Mike's monologue to El undermines what he said to Will in S2, and I feel like that's why people want his monologue to El to be a lie given the context... That's one of the reasons why I wonder how they're gonna deal with the monologue if they're going with the Byler route honestly

In reference to this post!

I think it is very hard to understand at this time because we don't have the full picture yet. Like when Vol. 2 dropped, we just didn't get it, with most bylers assuming after our first watch that it was all over. And even now a lot of bylers still have some resentment towards the monologue (some can't even rewatch it!), because they don't fully understand what the thought process was behind it. But in all honesty, it had to go down that way, and for a number of reasons.

First and foremost, they wanted to trick the majority of the audience by giving them what they want (thought they wanted), while also making a point to do it in the most unsatisfying way possible. In order for people to move on from Mike and El, they needed to get them to the highest point they could possibly be, on shaky ground that is doomed to fall, so that they can inevitably do just that, fail disastrously.

Once all the dust settles, there's no valid reason for them to go through all that again, as they've reached their highest and it didn't work out, meaning the story would fall flat if they even tried. (Dudebro fans on Tiktok are actually hilarious bc they're not milkvans or bylers, but they'll make jokes mocking a version of s5 that ends with another milkvan love confession... like... they're so close to the truth and they don't even realize it...)

It also makes an early s5 breakup very fitting, because they left things off at such a high stakes moment without resolving it.

And secondly, and arguably even more importantly, this had to happen for byler to be satisfying (which is important if they want the ending to be satisfying for overall rewatch). Byler wont be satisfying if El and Mike aren't explicitly over with no chance of return (especially with Will and El being practically siblings now). They needed to make it so people couldn't wonder what if, and now, they wont, because we know at their peak they were doomed to fail.

But like you said, how exactly do they plan to go from that monologue, which contradicted what Mike once said to Will, to essentially reversing it?

The quick and easy assumption is that Mike lied and so therefore he never contradicted what he said to Will, because everything he said back then in the shed was true, whereas everything he said in Surfer Boy was a lie...

The long and difficult assumption is that Mike is in a situation where miscommunication is going through the roof. His actions are being based upon misunderstandings and how he is dealing with said misunderstandings in his own head (much of which has been caused in part by his behavior, which was caused in part by his denial/repression) and trying to make choices that he thinks are right, based on what other people think/want/need in this high stakes moment.

Mike is not necessarily thinking of himself here, and so just from that fact alone he is being selfless. Just like Will giving his love disguised as El to help Mike (essentially lying), Mike is also sacrificing his true feelings because he is scared of hurting and losing El (essentially lying). And so although it's not right, it's also not wrong, because it's coming from a good place deep down. (support gay wrongs, am i right?!)

I don't think it's as easy as interpreting it as being a lie vs. truth though. Mike has said SOOO many times this season but the truth is when the real fact of the matter is, those truths he's mentioned often contradict, whether it be outright, or through assumption.

And so it can't all be the truth, at least not on the surface.

There is a necessity for closure on both the Mike and El front and also the Mike and Will front, to clear up those contradictions. Not just for the fans, but also for all three of the characters who are all lying, mostly as a result of miscommunication, meaning they might not have felt the need to lie if there wasn't so much miscommunication in the first place.

AKA what is the truth Oprah gif.

But I do think a number of things Mike said during his monologue, can constitute as the truth, by technicality, which means that even if it's sort of acknowledged later in the story that Mike's monologue was a lie, that doesn't mean there won't be a follow up to that, that resembles him revealing that it wasn't all lies, because he couldn't in good conscious lie in the first place.

Saying, I'm sorry I don't say it more isn't necessarily a lie. He is sorry and I'm sure he does wish he could have said it more... but it's also not the truth, not the whole truth. The problem is he never said it at all to El (once, when he thought she wasn't listening and visibly regretted it). So, he's not acknowledging the truth with that statement, he's instead sticking with a claim he made during their fight, when he low-key gaslighted El by saying I say it, which she countered with You can't even write it ,Mike (They're crazy for putting this line in here bc El already disagreed with Mike on it. Same w the superhero line. Meaning there's at least two things he said she outright didn't like... Yikes...).

It's going to take him acknowledging the falsehoods to admit to the truth hiding in there, but I do think both are one in the same at the end of the day.

Then, it will just be a matter of how they lay out Mike and Will's arcs related to their sexuality in s5.

Noah, in defense of the Duffer's writing for Will's arc in s4, said that once Will does come out, it will be really beautiful. I'm sure that was just him being confident in the Duffers on a basic level, but it also just makes me think about how this is all going to play out.

Is Will's sexuality something that could be revealed first to the others, either by Will himself somehow for some reason, or by Vecna without his control (not in support of Will being outed, but we all know it's a possibility).

I'm just curious about this, because are we going to be seeing Mike reacting to Will being revealed as gay? Or are they both going to find out their feelings for each other, and as a result it will just be obvious they both like boys and so there won't be much of a need to delve further than that?

I think what intrigues me about Will being the one who is revealed as gay in canon first, is because it's obviously highly anticipated, and he's only out to one character so far (Jonathan). And so that coming to a head at the forefront, coming full circle to s1, with everything that happened that first season related to his queer-coding, does feel like it has the capacity to be very satisfying if told that way.

But that would then mean we're also going to see Mike's reaction to that revelation...

And...

I think that's where the acknowledgment for him and his past behavior related to Will and the deterioration of their friendship over the years, is going to make Mike feel a little bit down on himself.

I don't think this means that Mike needs to avenge for his sins or whatever or that he's all wrong and Will's all right.

HOWEVER, I do think there's a chance that Mike could feel that way by the end of this ie. if/when Mike finds out Will is gay, maybe even also that he's in love with him (the painting was from him), only to be reminded of what he said in his monologue.... I just can't see Mike reacting all that positively to that, in regards to himself.

I do think that because of this, we are due for a conversation about the summer of 85, which they still haven't talked about, and maybe even a claim by Mike that because of his behavior over the last two years, he doesn't deserve Will (he'd again be agreeing with the ga saying Will deserves better).

BUT!!! Here's the thing.

Will gets it.

If anyone gets it, if anyone understands why someone might feel the responsibility to be who everyone expects them to be, it's Will.

It doesn't matter if the audience hates Mike because of his behavior over the seasons, because he too presumably feels at war with himself.

This also got me thinking about Heartstopper, a story about two queer characters going through different points in their journey, one gay/out of the closet and one bisexual/in the closet, and them dealing with that journey side by side, having to respect each other for both going at their own pace (You say go slow, I fall behind teas)

When Charlie and Nick kissed, only for Nick to run off upon hearing some of his friends nearby, in turn making Charlie insecure and heartbroken, it was still valid.

Yes it sucked that Charlie got hurt and that he's in this mindset of assuming Nick could never feel the same, based on those actions. Though, we're left in the dark for an episode, assuming the worst, we soon find out that Nick had his reasons.

He was scared.

And he explains that to Charlie, and he's emotional and he's still in the middle of trying to understand what he's going through.

And so even though he didn't have to do all this, he didn't have to apologize for being scared, he still is. He still feels like it's what Charlie deserves because he also does have feelings for him and understandably, can't in good conscious continue to pursue Charlie, without clearing the air.

Even despite this, even though Nick is convinced Charlie has every right turn him away after he low-key rejected him and made him feel insecure, Charlie doesn't.

Nick is looking at him confused and kind of bewildered, and Charlie just smiles at him with tears in his eyes all knowingly because HE. GETS. IT!

It also reminds me of the I didn't say it/You didn't have to, and the whole Leia and Han, I love you/I know... I feel like the moment it becomes obvious that Mike is in love with Will and they have a moment together, whether it be intense or quiet, we're going to be able to tell from the look in Will's eyes that he knows! Because that, in combination with all their moments over the seasons leading up to it, points to the fact that their love is something that doesn't need to be stated outright to be understood. They just feel it and they know, based on their actions.

And that all in turn makes Mike's monologue at the end of s4 that much more necessary, bc we'll be seeing Mike and Will contrast it beautifully by the end. They'll actually talk through things, looking in each others eyes, apologize where they feel they went wrong, listen, forgive, and understand as equals; a team!

Mike going through a mini discovery journey of his own in s5, based on that post I made and the whole Paladin oath redemption arc, seems very fitting based on the situation that's been laid out. Whether Mike is gay or bi or unlabeled is not something I think about definitively, because I think this coming of age journey for him in the final season will happen regardless of what queer label he identifies with.

But be clear, this doesn't mean I think Mike should feel obligated to apologize about the summer of 85. And yet, regardless, I do think that in some shape or form we're going to see him try to amend it. Because it's not that he has to do it, it's because he wants to do it.

I don't think Mike is this horrible character that has all this redeeming ahead of him. I do however think that his behavior over the seasons, based on him not wanting to accept himself for who he truly is, has in turn made Will insecure not only with his own feelings, but with their friendship.

While Mike's worrying a bunch about El, he's resorted to only showing care for her because that's all he can do, causing him to close off from Will all-together bc simply caring for Will is also not something he can do, causing Will to think Mike doesn't even simply care for him.

I do think the end of s4, specifically the monologue, set up a really solid start to s5 and how all three of these arcs in the bizarre love triangle are going to each exist on their own, overlap and finally be resolved in a way that will be shockingly satisfying to a lot of fans, despite it being unexpected.

Thanks for the ask anon!

#byler #stranger things #stranger things 5 #st5 predictions #mike's monologue

22 notes · View notes

summercourtship · 1 month

Note

Hey Kyra! listen, you don’t have to answer to this ask if you don’t feel comfortable talking about it, see this ask as more of an reassurance then a question. Ok, well…the point is that i saw your post about being afraid that the plot you created is stupid and unrealistic, and that by itself is so stupid…

Don’t get me wrong!!! this is not me calling you stupid, this is me calling anxiety stupid! Everyone here can see how much passion, love and dedication you have for this fanfiction, honestly it’s so amazing to see your love for it, this is something you are doing by your on volition and decided that it would be cool to share with us! your writing has inspired other fanfic creators and attracted 27.000 fans to a world that YOU dedicate time of your week to produce it! You are amazing! I don’t care what you have prepared for us in the end! Even if it is stupid and unrealistic (like cmon this is a world that a man dresses as a bat and fights crime in *checks notes* Crime Alley…. huh…) If it’s a beautiful ending that makes me cry, or just a bittersweet ending! I believe that you have the capability of producing something that satisfies you! the audience is second bcs remember, this is your world!

ahh. thank you.

i love the love i have been receiving for this fic, like stbotdi has been my big project for the last year, and i cannot stress enough how grateful i am for all of y'all's love and praise but sometimes. sometimes it can feel like a lot of pressure (even if it's literally just for a stupid lil fanfic). because i want to give you all the story you want but i know that the story YOU want may not be the story i'm writing. the ending won't change from the ending i planned out a year ago but i don't want anyone to be upset that it isn't what they wanted (although tbh i think the ending is obvious).

but also a lot of this anxiety could just be from the fact that it's been a bit of a rough week for me, mainly because i'm literally at my wits end in my job but i'm hopeful that things will change soon. it's just a bit stressful so i'm already feeling very anxious about that. add my own insecurities on top of that and you get... sad posting.

also i swear to you that when i post things that seem anxious or self-loathing i don't do it so someone'll send me a nice ask, because if i did i wouldn't delete them. i just like posting into a void for a minute and then getting rid of it, it's a bit cathartic.

#ask #anon #stbotdi #personal

4 notes · View notes

yell0wsalt · 5 months

Text

20 Questions for Writers

saw @ljf613 do this and wanted to give it a try

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27. (I have a couple others I made private bc they are horrid. Teeter between completely rewriting or deleting them, so in the limbo private collection they stay)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

72,228

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mostly have written for Avatar: Legend of Korra and have a few fics for My Hero Academia.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm Bored, Let's Fuck

Your Electric Touch

A Spark in the Dark

Loving You throughout the Years

A Closed Discussion

Drives me bananas 2/5 of these are horrid not even well-writted E-rated fics and that I have several other stories I'd prefer being in my top 5 but whatever, I guess

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course! Very few read what I write, let alone bother to comment. Honestly, you took time out of your day to read my silly story and leave a comment?

That means the world to me.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Without a doubt, Shinishi of the Deep. It was my first take on a Cosmic Horror AU and I took to leaving it open-ended regarding Iroh's fate. The last line Join me is simple, but keeps it in the air of who said it.

Was it Asami?

Was it the monster out in the open? Is that monster even real?

Who will he listen to?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The happiest? Umm I mostly write happy endings, so it all depends on the context, but probably Loving You throughout the Years, a small collection of one shots of Linzin being in a relationship not experiencing their breakup. Chapter 3 is what comes to mind when considering their happy ending.

Hurts Like Hell when I got Irosami to get together after their breakup was satisfying to write.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not cool enough to get hate on, so I fly under the radar.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oof, that's a big old YIKES from me. I do a lot better with the build up and sexual tension between the couple before.

Pay no mind to the snippet I posted yesterday

Although I feel like I should get out of my comfort zone and try it, it's also horribly embarrassing to be seen flopping in real time.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Noooo. I have curious thoughts about crossovers (/pos), but have zero business in giving writing one a shot.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Never have I ever.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Don't do this to me. I'm naming three.

Linzin

Irosami

EraserMic

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I'm planning to bring all of my WIPs into the New Year!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm, pass.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything—

*sad clown sounds*

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I

I've seen people do it before in other fics which can be an interesting touch to world building. However, my problem with some authors doing so comes down to it being clear they used a source like GoogleTranslate to do so. Often, the grammatical structure is incorrect (surprise, surprise, not every language goes subject + verb + object like English).

Also, there may be words in the other language that would be better suited for the context in the fic.

I know myself well enough that's something I should stay away from in my writing unless I am familiar with the language or can reach out to someone who is.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Legend of Korra. I just started this year, so there's still a lot more to tap into.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Might be a tie between Breathe Me Back To Life or Say It. I like the universes I created for the pairings here and think about them often.

#text post

2 notes · View notes

ariddletobesolved · 1 year

Note

FROZEN III

Being direct, aren't we? I don't know what you're asking of me, anon, is this meant to be a writing prompt or something? Since you're not being specific, I will just share my opinions/thoughts on Frozen 3. Assuming you know that I ship Helsa and I like Hans (else, why are you asking me? I don't often interact with general Frozen fans here), I'll probably bring it up in this post. (Warning, this will get personal.)

My first thought when I saw the announcement was, "Well, someone has to milk they cashcows at some point, right?"

I wasn't thrilled, in fact I was rather sceptical. I don't like Frozen 2 for a lot of reasons (I won't elaborate it because it's exhausting having to repeat it, I'd rather not talk about it or see anyone paraphrase it for me, thanks), and in my head the franchise is done, just like that. Some people I know also lost their interest in the Frozen fandom, prompting me to do the same (the only things keeping here are my friends, Helsa, and Frozen the Musical), so am I excited to have my love for Frozen rekindled? Not really. But am I excited to see the fandom revived and the possible new contents that will come along with it? Absolutely!

I'm rather indifferent about Frozen 3, honestly, and I have ZERO expectation about it, whatsoever. At the end, Disney is a multibillion dollar company, and they are likely to prioritise profit over quality content. But if it ends up getting a good writing, that's good for them, I guess. Though, I'm personally planning to avoid any news related to Frozen 3.

I would like to see them explore other places too, tho, maybe The Southern Isles? I wouldn't mind a redemption arc for Hans (although the chance seems highly unlikely, lol, that's how low I set my bar). I don't need Helsa to be canon, but maybe and interaction would be nice to see (or I could write my own enemies to lovers fic for self indulgence purposes instead, idk).

If I had to guess the plot, however, I'd say Frozen 2 is just a fever dream but the moment Elsa goes about her day, she hears that 4-note siren call, and she goes on a journey but *gasp* there's someone behind the bushes, at least Anna is there with a sword looking cool like in that trailer, etc. (this is a joke, please don't take it seriously), or maybe it could be assassin!Anna, spy!Elsa, and telepath!Olaf trying to prevent a war from breaking out (again this is my attempt at humour, based on a conversation I had with some friends), who bloody knows? Anything could happen, really.

All I'm saying is that, try to manage your expectations and maybe mute tags/keywords of topics you wanna avoid for your own sake (I do that, and my online experience has never been better). I hope these answers are satisfying for you, anon.

#mary answers #my attempt at humour #frozen 3 #helsa #can i tag that #prince hans #frozen

13 notes · View notes

mikroaaurora · 1 year

Text

wassup 2023

_____________________

Wow its almost been a year since I’ve written here which i guess means that i haven’t been doing too bad to have needed an outlet to write on or maybe it’s just that i rather burden my friends with my issues, but 2022 was definitely a year for me.

Honestly its crazy because it doesn’t feel like I’ve done much in the past year but looking back on it now I think I’ve achieved quite a bit I could say, and grown a lot as a person (at least I hope).

I feel like I should start this with a list of new year resolutions then get into reflecting about my year but maybe I’ll change it up and look back first.

So damn where do I begin, i started the year off feeling miserable I guess (remember that dance group that I mentioned being kicked out of) yeah, it took a toll on me much more than I would have liked it to. I was stuck in a place where i grieved my old friends, grieved dance and everything in between. I was torn between going back to dance with a different studio or just giving up and calling it quits after about 16 years of doing this. But unfortunately as much as I wanted to leave dance it didn’t want to leave me, I always caught myself dancing along to music, still practicing choreos in my head, it would not go, I couldn’t stop it, and it annoyed me because for something that used to bring me so much joy only made me sad because as much as I wanted to dance with others, as much as my friends convinced me to join another group, I just wanted to be dancing with my old friends again. And to be honest I did join a dance project with others, it was fun! I made some really good friends and although it was tough mentally and physically I was very happy with the end result and very proud of me and my team.

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t satisfied, it didn’t feel the same and I had to tell myself that it wasn’t even going to feel the same. I wanted to go back to my old dance crew but I knew how much I hated the leaders, how awkward it would be between us, how most of my close friends has already left, or how it would bring back all of the stress and complications that I had in the first place, I just wouldn’t feel happy I guess, and so I had to keep reminding myself that (also the fact that I continuously shit talked the studio so much I feel like my friends would laugh at me if I ended up going back despite my hate love relationship lol).

Anyways it took me months of trying to convince myself and moving past this to finally and I mean FINALLY be happy with where I am. It was tough and I was very mentally distressed but now I can proudly say I’m a dance teacher at a studio I love and I have great friends around me and have officially lead my own first project! it’s kinda surreal and makes me a little emotional to think of how years ago I was struggling so much to even just audition to get into a group and now I’m a teacher? Crazy! I’ve also started to notice a lot of progression within my dance abilities which is making me excited and motivated to keep pushing, I also found the courage to post on Instagram and tiktok wow since an old friend who’s pretty popular within the dance community encouraged me to.

Okay enough talk about dance, some other things that really made my 2022 was starting a new job midway into the year and making really good friends! (I feel like we’re too close to call colleagues haha) The job itself is bearable I guess, it’s the toughest job I’ve worked but the people there are making me able to put up with it I guess.

I guess I also just started being more positive, and had a more positive outlook on life, I started feeling excited for things more often and would try my best to go out more and experience more things and so I guess you could say 2022 was a learning year for me.

So new years resolutions damn I feel like I have the same few every year but I’m hoping (god please I really am) that I’ll be able to fulfill them this year. Mhm here we are:

workout consistently!

spend less time on social media

stop caring about people that treat you badly!! let go of them for good !!

be my own person, don’t spend so much time trying to be someone else

be serious in learning italian

save save save money !!

care more about my appearance lol

study hard !!

self motivation

explore different genres of music

outside more

start drawing again >>> webtoon?

All of these are pretty much self explanatory but I really want to focus on being my own person! For the longest time I’ve spent so much of my energy looking at others and comparing myself? Trying to look like others, I mean not to a big extent but just wishing I looked like that person, wishing I lived like someone else and I feel like I’ve already started to move past that the past few months because I’m doing thinks that I want to do, that make me happy. I just want to be my own person, look at my features and go “how can I enhance myself” figure out my own style (which is still getting there) and just not have to think about looking and living like someone else. I want to be truthful to myself.

#motivation #homebody #journal #productive #art

0 notes

amistytown · 3 years

Text

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

778 notes · View notes

babyboibucky · 3 years

Text

Don’t You Worry (Your Pretty Little Head)

Pairing: Guitarist!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You agree to spend twelve hours with Bucky whom you just met.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: THE LENGTH lmfao, soft smut??? Nothing vulgar and it’s sorta implied

A/N: I am honestly nervous about posting this piece because idk, aside from it being fucking long, I was never satisfied with how this was written lmfao. I literally rewrote this like idk 5 times??? And the fact that I made a mood board for a oneshot lmfao only means I poured my heart out into this shit and I’m really hoping y’all would enjoy this as much as my other works 🥺

MAIN MASTERLIST

Your idea of a fun Friday night involved your couch and Netflix playing in the background as you scrolled through your phone with a glass of wine in hand. This was your definition of pure bliss, something that Wanda violently opposed to.

So here you were, seated in the front of a music bar while Wanda’s favorite band played.

“See? This isn’t so bad, right? Better than wallowing in your apartment alone.” She teased as she leaned over to you, needing to amp up the volume of her voice so you can hear her.

“The fact that we can’t even hear each other properly makes wallowing alone sound so much better.” You told her, not even bothering to repeat yourself when she didn’t understand what you said over the loud music playing.

Her favorite band introduced their last song for the night and as they did, you checked your phone for the time. It was barely past ten in the evening and you were already dying to get home. You’ll bid goodbye after this, you promised yourself. Just one last song and you’re out. Before the band could even finish their last song, you’d already decided on what pizza to order and which wine to bring out.

That was until the next band came up on stage to prepare for their performance. You were leaning over Wanda already, about to tell her that you were heading home, when one particular guy caught your eye. Something that Wanda noticed when she saw you gawking at the stage.

“Oh my god. He’s definitely your type.” Wanda said when her eyes landed on the bassist.

He had dirty blonde hair and a clean-shaven face that looked a little too innocent for someone to be in a rock band. Your exact type— one with the boy next door appeal, someone you’d want to bring home to introduce to your parents. Wanda was so sure you were crushing on the bassist but as soon as he followed your line of sight, she almost choked on her own spit.

You weren’t eyeing the bassist, instead, you were completely focused on the lead guitarist. You were so enamored by this guy that you failed to notice Wanda gushing over the fact that you were enamored by someone who was the complete opposite of your type.

It was the lead guitarist who caught your attention. The one with long hair tied into a low, messy man bun, his stray locks framing his perfectly chiseled face. It wasn’t only the hair that made you look at him, it was also his left arm— it was covered entirely with tattoos. And then he started playing the guitar and good god, his fingers were something else.

It was rare for you to have certain thoughts, the kind that would make you sweat in church. And thank fuck for Wanda finally snapping you out of your filthy trance because if she hadn’t, you would’ve seriously drowned in your not so pure thoughts.

“I can’t believe you’re attracted to that guy. This makes me so excited, honestly.” Wanda squealed.

“Huh?” You played dumb of course. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wanda snorted out loud, “I just witnessed you drool over the guitarist for a good five minutes. Stop denying.” She said.

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe I did. And so what? It’s not like I’m gonna act on it.”

“You have to fuck him.” Wanda casually suggested, making you choke on your drink.

You weren’t a prude but you didn’t like the idea of hooking up with people, most especially strangers. You weren’t going to lie though, it did cross your mind. Obviously, the way his fingers moved on his guitar really threw your brain down the gutter. Sure, you might have wondered what it’d be like to have those fingers on you but again, would you act on it? Hell no.

“It’s just one night. Live a little, come on. And you getting attracted to someone like him? That’s once in a blue moon, all the more you need to bring him home.” Wanda said.

“One night stands don’t really work well for me and you know that. The first time I tried that was also the last time because I ended up getting attached. And how did that end? Terrible. So no, thank you. Never again.” You told Wanda.

Fortunately, Wanda stopped bugging you about fucking the guitarist. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was nothing but a moment of admiration. You were hell-bent on going home anyway, well, maybe after his band finishes their first song. Besides, he wouldn’t notice you so why bother staying?

“Oh my god, he’s looking at you!” Wanda almost screamed, slapping at your arm until you turned to the stage.

And holy fuck. He was really looking at you. Why though? You even looked behind you to make sure it was you he was staring at and when you turned back at him, he smirked and threw a wink at your way.

“You know what, I think I’m gonna head home.” You said, not knowing how to act.

Wanda pulled you back down when you stood up, “Oh no, honey. No one’s going home this early.” She said. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?” She quickly added, tipping her head towards the stage.

When you looked up at the guitarist, he was still looking at you as he played. This time, he was actually pouting, as if pleading for you to stay. You quickly avoided his gaze and although it was dimly lit in the bar, you still bowed your head to hide the blush creeping up to your face.

You managed to survive the entire setlist of the band despite the flirty smiles and winks that the guitarist gave you. Wanda was ecstatic about it, it made you wonder if she was actually the one crushing on the guy. As soon as the last song was done, you excused yourself and hurried into the bathroom to compose yourself.

It was the first time that you experienced such attraction towards a guy like him. You always went with the good boys, so why were you so drawn to this guy who looked nothing but trouble? You were in denial, this was totally out of your comfort zone so you shook the thoughts away and promised yourself (again) that you’d head home this time. For real.

“There you are.”

You gasped out loud when you stepped out of the bathroom, quickly colliding against a solid chest when you heard his voice. It was low yet gentle, soft-spoken but sinful.

“I’m sorry?” You sputtered out, bowing down your head to avoid the lead guitarist’s gaze.

“I thought you left already.” He said. “I’m Bucky, by the way.” He introduced, extending his left arm for a handshake.

Your eyes landed on his tattooed arm, despite the ink covering it all up you could actually see his veins.

“And I’m going home.” You quickly shook Bucky’s hand, ignoring the electricity that ran through your veins and brushed past him, eyes scanning the bar for Wanda.

Bucky jogged ahead of you, blocking your way and chuckling to himself. “Don’t I at least get a name?” He asked.

You were internally screaming, but you managed to mention your name just so he would leave you alone. Sure, he was hot and he was actually flirting with you. But your fear of the unknown outweighed your attraction. You weren’t ready to step out of your comfort zone. Yet.

Bucky trailed behind you as you looked for Wanda, cursing to yourself when you couldn’t spot her anywhere. You took out your phone and called her immediately.

“Wanda? Where are you?” You hiss into the phone.

Bucky watched you with amusement and it was making you uncomfortable. He was just staring at you with a grin on his handsome face. And now, you just discovered that Wanda left you.

“What?! But why?! You’re my ride home! Come back and pick me up!” You exclaim into the phone, unable to believe that Wanda just ditched you.

“You can’t— hello? Wanda? Hello?” You groaned in frustration when your friend ended the call.

“I’d love to offer you a ride home but it’s too early, so how ‘bout I just buy you a drink?” Bucky asked, flashing you a charming smile that made your knees weak.

Part of you wanted to give in and just say, fuck it, let Bucky do whatever he wants with you. The reasonable part of your brain though, highly opposed to this and pulled on the alarms. This guy probably just wants to get you into his bed and although it doesn’t sound that bad, you worried more for what could happen afterwards. You weren’t ready for a repeat of the past. You were too emotional, you had too many strings and they get attached way too quickly.

“No, thank you.” You told Bucky and headed outside the bar, deciding to book an Uber instead.

Bucky was persevering though and followed you out, blocking your way into the sidewalk and snatching your phone away.

“Hey, give me my phone back!” You exclaimed.

“The night is young, c’mon. Why are you so aloof anyway?” Bucky asked.

“Because I don’t know you?” You responded.

Bucky chuckled, “Have you ever heard about making friends? I mean, pretty much everyone you meet starts off as a stranger. And it’s not like I’m a serial killer or anything. I’m not gonna rob you but I most certainly won’t give you your phone back until I convince you to stay a while.” He said and god, he was too charming for your own good.

He made a good point about making friends. You couldn’t even remember the last time you made a new one. Bucky could see the gears in your head working as you stared at him, cheeks flushed and lips parted in deep thought.

“So, what do you say? Stay a while? Keep me company. It’ll be fun.” Bucky insisted.

“Why me?” You blurted out.

It wasn’t that you were insecure, but you were way too different from Bucky. You didn’t seem like his type, but then again, he wasn’t your type either. Until the moment you saw him on stage.

“Why not?” Bucky responded as if he couldn’t believe you just asked him that question.

“Do you ask that every time someone flirts with you? Besides, it’s not everyday that someone like you stared at me like that.” He teased.

Fuck, so he noticed you drooling over him. Quick! Think of a way out, you told yourself.

“Someone like me? What did you mean by that?” You asked, sounding offended.

Bucky’s eyes widened and shook his head, “I didn’t mean for it to sound like it’s a bad thing. I mean, you come in here wearing a chiffon blouse and a pencil skirt and expect me not to notice? I’m actually flattered that a girl, no...a woman...was ogling me. Definitely piqued my interest.” He explained.

That was a compliment, right? The sirens in your head grew louder at the way Bucky was easily throwing you compliments. He must be used to flirting his way into women’s panties, huh?

“I wasn’t ogling you.” You defended even though you were, looking away from his eyes.

“Sure, you weren’t.” Bucky teased. “Loosen up, will ya? When was the last time you had fun anyway?” He asked.

“Depends on your definition of fun.” You retorted.

“You know what I mean.” Bucky sighed.

“Well, my idea of fun doesn’t involve a guitarist getting me into his bed for a one night stand.” You blurted out, mindlessly.

Bucky made a face and clutched his chest, “Ouch. You went hard on that judgment, I’m not gonna lie, that kinda stings.”

Okay, now you felt bad for jumping to conclusions. Bucky did look like he was hurt from your brash statement. Fuck, he probably thought you were one of those stereotypical bitches! It wasn’t entirely your fault, right? You were just being careful. Were you? Or was it purely overthinking? Your brain was moving all too fast but Bucky quickly distracted you when he took your hand and placed your phone back onto your palm.

“You know, I think I get it why you said that and I honestly can’t blame you. A band dude flirts with you just like that, understandable why you thought that I wanted to get into your pants.” He explained much to your relief.

“I’m sorry, it was tasteless for me to judge you like that.” You quickly apologized, genuinely feeling like a terrible person.

Bucky smiled at you, “Nah, you had every right. I’m sorry if I was too forward but I do really want to spend some time to get to know you. So how about a little proposal?”

There was a glint in Bucky’s eyes that made your heart flutter and your brain go into overdrive. You knew it was a bad idea to give in to Bucky. Someone as charming as him might really be up to no good. Sure, you felt bad for judging him based on his looks. But something in your gut tells you that he was trouble.

“What proposal?” You asked curiously.

“Spend the next twelve hours with me.” Bucky suggested.

You frowned, “What?”

Bucky took your phone again, but only to check the time. “It’s a little past eleven now, I promise you’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Come with me, let loose for once and let’s spend the entire night together. Twelve hours, that’s it.” He said excitedly.

“And I don’t mean have sex with me.” Bucky explained immediately. “We’ll just hang out, it’s a wholesome proposal. But if you do want to have sex with me, I’m not gonna turn that down. I’m just saying, it’s not my motive but I won’t be saying no to it either.” He reassured.

You felt hot all of a sudden at how Bucky casually talked about having sex with you. It made you feel feverish and for someone who wasn’t really a sexual person, it made you feel like you were about to commit a major sin just by listening to Bucky talk like that.

Bucky beamed at you cutely, waiting for your response and honestly, with how his doe eyes were looking at you like that, was it even possible to say no? Despite the continuous alarms in your head and your inner prude begging you to stay within the confines of your comfort zone, you decided to do something for a change.

So you said yes.

You were spending the next twelve hours with Bucky and you could only hope that you wouldn’t regret it.

The night started off slow, thankfully, with Bucky ushering you back into the bar for a couple of drinks. You had to remind yourself to still be alert for any red flags that might show up sooner or later. You knew you were being a bit paranoid, but to hell, it would be better that way than to make mistakes tonight.

“Where do you work?” Bucky asked before calling the waiter.

“I work at a bank.” You told him.

The waiter arrived and took your orders, a tall glass of mojito for you and a rum and coke for Bucky. He asked you a couple more things, where you graduated, your hobbies and what you often did during your weekends. All of which you had pretty boring responses to. Bucky listened though and he didn’t seem bored too, what a relief.

“Are you really sure about spending twelve hours just like this?” You asked, taking another sip from your second glass of mojito.

Bucky snickered, “We won’t be talking the entire night, did you really think I’d ask for your twelve hours just to talk?” He asked.

“What are you planning then?” You asked nervously.

Bucky offered you an amused smile, “Nothing illegal so stop worrying, pretty lady. I can see the gears in your head turning.” He said and leaned forward to smoothen out the crease in between your brows with his thumb.

“Come on, time to have fun.” He said and got up, offering you his hand.

You haven’t even recovered from how gentle Bucky was when he touched your forehead. And now here he was, standing over you with his tattooed arm extended, waiting for you to take his hand.

“I don’t bite.” He stated.

Letting out a sigh, you finished up your drink and stood up, slipping your hand into Bucky’s. He smiled at you, lifting your hand up to his face and pressing a kiss on it before winking.

“See? I told you, I don’t bite.”

You cleared your throat and pursed your lips, biting back a smile as Bucky tugged you as he walked out of the bar, keeping your hand in his the entire time. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all?

“Here.” Bucky said, handing you over his helmet.

It was then that you realized that he was about to give you a ride. On his motorcycle. The sirens in your head went off once again, bringing you back to your usual tensed state.

“Oh, no. Look, I know I said yes to your proposal but I’m not going to ride on that.” You disagreed and took a step back.

Bucky looked disappointed but shrugged anyway, placing the helmet back on the bike. “Fine. I’ll let you off this time, just because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Come with me.” He said and took your hand in his again as the both of you went back inside the bar.

He brought you towards the booth where the rest of his band were staying at. They all looked at you with smirks on their faces when Bucky introduced you to them.

“That’s Nat, our vocalist. Sam here is our drummer and Steve the bassist.” He said.

You gave them a polite smile and a quick wave. Bucky threw his keys over at Steve, who was supposed to be your type. Wanda thought so and you were just weirded out that you happen to be drawn towards Bucky instead.

“Hey punk, switch your car for my bike? Just for tonight.” Bucky said.

Steve looked so done with his request but shook his head in defeat as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He pointed at Bucky threateningly, “Don’t mess up my car, jerk. You know what I mean by that.” He said before throwing his own keys over at Bucky who caught it with ease.

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. Thanks, pal!” Bucky bid goodbyes and pulled you again before you could even say your own goodbyes to his bandmates.

Now, you were inside Steve’s car with Bucky and you were nervous as fuck. Although you did find it considerate of Bucky to borrow his friend’s car to make things comfortable for you. You were going to admit that, but it made your heart flutter. You mentally snorted at yourself because fuck, the bar is set pretty low alright.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Bucky asked, noticing how you tensed up all of a sudden.

“Do we have rules?” You asked.

“This night is all about letting loose and the first thing you thought of are rules?” Bucky laughed.

“I’m about to spend the next twelve hours with a complete stranger, of course I’d be worried! What if—“

“Okay, calm down!” Bucky said, turning in his seat to face you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“If it’ll make you less tense then fine, I’ll come up with rules. Number one is to stop worrying.” Bucky said, rubbing your arms up and down and you were supposed to feel uncomfortable with the intimacy but you didn’t.

There was no malice to it and it made you panic all the more because ugh, Bucky was making you all soft and vulnerable around him. You could hear Wanda inside your head, commanding you to just calm down and go with the flow. You took in a deep breath and composed yourself.

“You gotta learn to trust people. I promise you, we won’t be getting in any trouble. I’ll take good care of you.” Bucky said, letting your arms go and tipping your chin so you’d look at him.

“Rule two, no what ifs. Just focus on the present, okay? If you keep worrying about what could happen, you’ll miss out on the now. Trust me, you wouldn’t want that.” Something about the change in Bucky’s eyes when he said that made you curious.

He was on to something, like he really meant it. You wanted to ask him about it, hell, you should start asking him for more information. If he wanted to get to know you better then you should attempt to do the same to him too.

“Last rule is to just enjoy. Like I said, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You trust me now?” Bucky asked with hopeful eyes.

The alarms in your head still kept going, but as you gazed back at Bucky, the softer they were becoming. You could feel yourself start to give in and you know what? It actually doesn’t sound so bad anymore. Maybe this would help with your attachment issues? This will probably teach you how to have fun with no attachments. Take things for what they are and just enjoy.

“Hey, will you trust me?” Bucky asked again.

“Yeah, yeah I will.”

1:15AM

Bucky took you to a hole in the wall open mic bar. It was a small place and everyone there seemed to know each other. And when Bucky arrived, everyone just greeted him and welcomed you there.

“You seem pretty popular here.” You told him as he led you to one of the seats near the makeshift stage.

“I spend a lot of time here.” He said and called over the guy by the bar.

“Hey Happy! Wanna introduce you to a special friend.” He said. The man approached your table and greeted you with a smile.

“Must be really special, you never bring anyone here.” Happy said, making you blush uncontrollably.

Bucky bit his lip as he turned to you, “Do you sing?” He asked.

You quickly shook your head, “Oh god, no. I don’t have the talent.” You said.

Happy chuckled, “That wouldn’t be a problem, trust me.” He reassured.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow at you, “Wanna go up there and sing with me?”

“Bucky, no.” You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing that.”

“Come on, no one’s gonna judge you. Let loose, remember? And if anyone here laughs at you, I’ll be the first to punch them in the face.” He promised.

You thought for a while, keeping your eyes on Bucky. Fuck this. You called Happy and requested for a shot of tequila.

“That’s my girl! Just needs a little bit of liquid courage, huh?”

You snorted, “Oh that’s not for me. That’s for you. You’re gonna need it if you’ll be hearing me sing.”

You never performed in front of a crowd, well, back in high school maybe for some school plays. But hell, you were never the center of attention and whenever you had to be, you always experienced a panic attack. But now being on stage with Bucky behind you, playing the guitar as you sang (screeched actually), you’d never felt more alive and relaxed. True enough, no one cared about how off tune you were. In fact, you got a lot of cheers from the crowd.

2:45AM

“You hungry?” Bucky asked.

You couldn’t believe it, you’ve been singing on stage the entire time at the bar. You’d like to believe that it was probably the alcohol running in your veins, but you weren’t that drunk. Tipsy, maybe but definitely not drunk. It was fun, you were surprised at how much you enjoyed singing with Bucky and everybody else. You made a couple of new friends aside from Happy, talked to them and even exchanged numbers with a few. This was the most sociable you’ve ever been.

“I could use some carbs right now.” You laughed, wiping off the sweat on your forehead.

Bucky reached out to fix your hair, moving away the sweaty strands sticking onto your cheeks and tucking them behind your ear. He flashed you that oh so charming smile again and good god, Bucky was truly something else.

“Let’s get you something to eat.” He said.

Bucky drove to a 24-hour food truck somewhere. It was close to 3am but you didn’t feel exhausted, which was shocking given that you’ve been dying to go home a few hours ago before meeting Bucky and agreeing to go on an escapade with him. You could already hear Wanda squealing over the phone once you tell her everything.

The both of you ordered some soft tacos and sat on one of the benches beside the food truck.

“Enjoying so far?” Bucky asked with interest.

You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth full of food as you devoured your tacos. “Very much.” You admitted.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled as he laughed along with you, obviously pleased that you were enjoying yourself. Not long ago, twelve hours seemed a bit too long. Now, they felt too short. You could feel your brain begin to overthink what would happen once the the twelve hours are over, but you quickly shook them away and followed Bucky’s advice to focus on the present.

The two of you continued to talk as you ate. You discovered that Bucky and his bandmates go way back and that they’ve been performing since their days at the university. You also found out that Bucky’s last relationship ended six years ago and that he hasn’t dated anyone since then. You found out a lot of things about Bucky, most of which were far from your first impressions.

“Why’d your friend leave you at the bar?” Bucky asked, taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

You watched him with hazy eyes as he lighted the cigarette, puffing out a thin line of smoke with ease. You were always drawn to Bucky’s fingers and initially, it was because of the impure thoughts they made you think about. But more than that, they were the gentlest you’d ever seen.

“Probably to get me to have fun.” You responded, looking away timidly when Bucky noticed you staring at his hands.

“She’s gonna be very proud of you after this.” He said.

You nodded and breathed out a chuckle, “Oh, for sure.” You said before turning to Bucky. “Can I try?” You asked, motioning towards his cigarette.

“I haven’t smoked. Ever.” You admitted.

Bucky grinned and passed you the cigarette. “Go on.” He urged and kept his eyes on you as you brought the cigarette up to your lips.

The way Bucky watched you was intimidating in the sense that it felt intimate. It wasn’t like he was eye-fucking you or anything, his eyes were just too...expressive? They held a certain softness to them, a bit of sadness too when you look at it closely. They were the bluest, most beautiful color you’ve seen and they were captivating.

You ended up in a coughing fit from that first drag. Bucky chuckled and took the cigarette from your hand, patting your back as you continued to cough.

“Definitely not for me.” You frowned and took a sip from your iced tea.

“At least you tried. I’m proud of you.” Bucky said, the gentle pats on your back slowing down until his hand remained still.

“You good?” He asked again, sliding his hand lower until he reached the small of your back, but not low enough to make you uncomfortable.

You nodded, “What else is up in your sleeve?” You asked with interest.

“Well, I really wanted to take you on a ride on my bike but I guess that’s for next time.” Bucky confessed.

“Next time?” You asked and you tried not to be hopeful.

“Yeah, next time. We’ll do that next time.” Bucky said and he sounded so sure that you began to worry.

Will there really be a next time? At this point, Bucky could read you like an open book because he chuckled and pressed his thumb against the crease on your forehead again.

“You’re doing it again, whatever you’re worrying about just forget it for now.” He said, soothing out your crease before pinching your nose.

You scrunched your nose making Bucky lightly laugh. He checked the time on his phone and let out a sigh.

3:43AM

“Can I bring you back to my place?”

If you told Wanda that you ended up in Bucky’s place, she would freak out and ask for all the details. But no, you didn’t come home with Bucky for that reason. As he promised, it wasn’t his motive to get you into his bed and he seemed to be genuine about it.

Bucky lived in a small studio-type loft. It wasn’t the penthouse kind with the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. It was simple and minimalistic, with just a few pieces of furniture. What Bucky owned were a couple of guitars— different kinds of them, and an electric keyboard.

“It’s not much and I don’t even have a bed frame, I hope you won’t judge me for that.” Bucky said, scratching his neck as he led you inside.

“No, not at all. It’s very cozy in here, actually.” You said, looking around and taking in your surroundings.

Bucky had a lot of indoor plants, you definitely didn’t think of him as a plant guy. As you let your eyes wander, something white zoomed past your vision. A cat.

Bucky also owned a cat.

“This is Alpine.” Bucky said, picking up the feline and carrying it onto his shoulder.

As if Bucky and his plants didn’t make him attractive enough, he really had to own a white cat. You could feel yourself internally screaming about how you haven’t been seeing any red flags. If any, you’ve been seeing green flags pop out every now and then that it was pretty alarming. Strangely, the sirens in your head died down as if they’ve given up on warning you.

Or maybe, there was really nothing to warn about Bucky.

The cat purred and nuzzled its nose into Bucky’s neck and you couldn’t believe that you got jealous for a brief second. Oh, to be cat against Bucky’s chest.

“Feel free to look around, I’ll get you water.” He said, bringing Alpine with him into the kitchen.

You walked around his place and observed the surroundings. He was very organized, more than you actually. You could hear Bucky talk to Alpine and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

A couple of picture frames that sat on Bucky’s bedside table caught your eye. They were photos of him with his mom you assumed, and three more girls.

“Those are my mom and younger sisters.” Bucky said, appearing behind you with a glass of water.

You thanked him as you took the glass and sat down on his bed, “Where are they?” You asked before drinking.

Alpine jumped into your lap and purred, making Bucky laugh with delight as he sat next to you. His parents were back in his hometown together with his sisters. Bucky told you everything about his family and how close he was to his sisters, how they were supportive of him when he decided to become a musician. Then Bucky went on to showcase his guitar collection, telling you the lovely stories behind each of them. You could see how passionate Bucky was for his craft and it was a wonderful thing to witness. You were envious how Bucky pursued his passion, how he took huge risks to get to where he was now.

“And this is my favorite one.” Bucky said, taking a black electric guitar with him as he went back to sit down next to you.

“First one I bought with my own money. It’s old and doesn’t sound as nice as my newer ones, but I love it.” He said and started plucking at the strings.

Alpine hopped off from your lap and went to sleep onto his tiny little bed beside Bucky’s couch. You focused on Bucky’s fingers as he played the guitar. It took you back to the moment you saw him onstage, how those fingers made you wonder about certain things. They moved gracefully against the cords, plucking with ease producing the most wonderful music. You really needed to snap out of your filthy thoughts.

Bucky played the guitar for you, singing some lyrics once in a while. You noticed his tattoos again and stared a bit longer, trying to decipher each design wrapped around his arm. Some were huge, some intricate more than the rest. They were all of different designs but molded together so perfectly.

You had to admit, you didn’t find tattoos attractive before. But on Bucky, it looked like a masterpiece. He himself, was a piece of art with his chiseled jawline and steel blue eyes that made you feel at home.

“I’ve been meaning to ask...” you softly trailed.

Bucky hummed in response, his attention focused on his guitar as he continued to play.

“Your tattoos, do they mean something?” You asked.

“I got them to cover up the scars from an accident.” Bucky looked up at you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” You quickly apologized.

Bucky smiled reassuringly, “It’s fine. It was a turning point for me.” He said, setting his guitar aside.

“It really puts things into perspective you know. I crashed my bike one night, I wasn’t drunk, mind you.” He chuckled. “It was pretty bad, my left arm suffered the most. I almost got decapitated but here I am. I got scars all over, really ugly scars so I had them covered up with a tattoo sleeve.” Bucky explained, extending his left arm and looking at it.

“For a while, I wasn’t able to play music. And I hated every second of it. Hated seeing the scars on my arm and how they reminded me of the accident. But you learn to live with it. At least I did, I learned to turn the negative into something positive.”

Now that he said that, you could actually see some of the scars beneath the ink. Bucky shrugged and continued with his story.

“The doctors said I was lucky that I didn’t die. Living my second life now, I realized that I gotta make the most out of it. Focus on the present and enjoy what comes your way. Take risks. Do what scares you.” He explained and now you understood.

You understood why Bucky appeared to be so laid-back and carefree, why he doesn’t worry a lot about the future. He almost lost his life so now he was living it to the fullest. He was living in the present, enjoying every second of it.

“Every time I see my tattoos, I get reminded of my second chance at life and how I shouldn’t waste it.” He said.

Bucky saw the look in your face, how guilty you looked from judging him right away. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger, tipping it up to make you look at him.

“So when I noticed that bored pretty office girl in the audience checking me out, I didn’t waste the opportunity to get to know her. See where it goes, who knows if I’d still be alive tomorrow but at least I shoot my shot.” He said, making you chuckle.

Everything went still in that moment, your usually noisy mind included. Time seemed to have stopped as you gazed into Bucky’s eyes. Biting your lip, you gave in and totally let down your walls.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Bucky asked, doing the same thing with his thumb, soothing the crease in between your brows.

This time, he didn’t take his hand back and allowed it to rest against your cheek before sliding down to your jaw and neck. His thumb began to caress the spot beneath your ear, waiting for you to respond to his question.

What Bucky got was more than just a simple response.

“Fuck it.” You whispered before pressing your lips onto Bucky’s.

All your life you played it safe— from your college course to your choice of career. You weren’t one to take risks either and whenever you needed to, they were always calculated. You did things carefully, making sure that you’d get the results you were expecting to save you from disappointment. The unknown scared you and so does uncertainty. You liked staying in your comfort zone but as much as you’ve been denying it, it was starting to get boring.

You also said you weren’t one to entertain a stranger, let alone hook-up with one. But then Bucky comes along with his long hair and tattooed arm, looking like trouble but bringing you none. You’d think that he just wanted to get into your pants but as he showered you with gentle kisses and feathery touches, you realized that Bucky might be different and that he was so much more than just the hot lead guitarist of a band.

Bucky’s calloused fingers perfectly contrasted the smooth expanse of your skin. They felt rough but remained gentle as they moved along your chest, as they danced along your back, as they stroked your inner walls. And his lips, they were tender and soft; they whispered nothing but promises and praises against your ear as your bodies moved in unison.

His eyes remained on you, taking all of your nakedness in, literally and figuratively. He watched you closely, with those blue eyes of his that always made you blush. Bucky’s eyes were truly mesmerizing, no matter how much you wanted to look away from embarrassment, you couldn’t. You felt trapped in those eyes, and you never want to leave.

And his left arm— you could feel the ridges of his scars as you let your hands feel his skin. But they weren’t ugly, didn’t feel weird against the pads of your fingers. His arm offered nothing but warmth and support when you reached your high and came crashing down. His arms caught you and protected you, his embrace was reassuring and it made you feel safe.

5:58AM

The city was quiet and the sun was barely up. Alpine was still curled up on his bed, sleeping. You were exhausted but satisfied and comfortable as you laid on your stomach, head turned and facing Bucky as you listened to him talk.

He was talking about his band’s first performance in college, laughing when he said that he almost threw up from being so nervous. Bucky had the softest voice in the wee hours of dawn, you loved listening to him. Lucky you, Bucky had been talking about anything and everything until the dark skies began to change its hues. He shared his dreams and his secrets and you admired him more and more.

“You should come to our rehearsals.” He suggested, letting a hand trace patterns on your bare back.

“Sounds nice.” You yawned, blinking your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

“What do you want for brunch?” Bucky asked, almost mumbling from being half-asleep.

You hummed, “By the time we wake up, it might be close to dinner.” You joked.

“Breakfast food is way better during dinner. Want me to cook for you?” Bucky said before yawning.

Your eyes were lidded as you took in Bucky’s form. He was laying beside you, long hair messed up and lips swollen pink from kissing. He looked unreal as a sliver of sunlight managed to peek through his curtains, embracing his body with its warm glow. The sun was now fully up, witnessing the tender aftermath of your intimacy with Bucky as he reached out to brush his knuckle along your cheekbone.

“I’m surprised you can cook.” You said softly, close to falling asleep.

“I’m pretty good at it.” Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll cook for you when we wake up.”

Bucky’s soft lips against yours was the last thing you felt before sleep took over.

12:24PM

A soft purr paired with soft paws on his face stirred Bucky awake. He groaned at Alpine when she meowed right into his face. Must be feeding time, he thought.

Bucky gently moved Alpine aside and turned, only to be met by a cold, empty space beside him. He sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes before quickly scanning his apartment for you.

You were gone.

And judging by the cold sheets on your side of the bed, you’d left hours ago. Bucky sighed in disappointment as he got up, putting on his boxers and quickly checking the bathroom. He hoped you’d be there, but you weren’t.

You didn’t even leave a note.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He wanted to cook for you, really. He wanted to bring you to his band’s rehearsals, maybe even write a song for you.

He wanted more than twelve hours with you.

Wanda had been on your ass for days now. When you told her about your twelve hours with Bucky, she was happy and proud. By the time you got to the end of it, she was fuming and was close to actually physically hurting you.

She wouldn’t stop bugging you about it, demanding you to at least look Bucky up on Facebook or Instagram. Wanda believed that what you and Bucky shared that night was special, something real and not just a one-time thing.

You woke up that morning, feeling sore but happy. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you opened your eyes to the sight of Bucky sleeping peacefully beside you. He seemed to be dreaming, his brows creased and lips pursed.

Reaching out, you did what Bucky kept on doing to you whenever you were worrying. You pressed your thumb against his forehead, soothing out the crease as gentle as you could so as not to wake him up. Bucky stirred in his sleep and unconsciously took your hand in his, pressing a kiss onto your palm before falling back into his slumber.

And that’s when it started; the alarms in your head went off and they were the loudest they’ve ever been. You were almost deafened by it, your logic drowning beneath your panicked thoughts as you got up from bed. You dressed up in a hurry, grabbing your things and phone to book yourself a ride home. Alpine woke up and ran over to your legs, purring as if begging you not to go.

You refused to look back and went straight for the door.

One and a half week later, here you were still feeling like the most terrible person on the entire planet. You had searched for Bucky online, of course. You just didn’t tell Wanda that but it was the first thing that you did upon going home. There were instances when you were tempted to send him a DM, or add him up on Facebook but you never did.

That one night with Bucky changed everything, it changed you. You immediately filed for a resignation, realizing that you were no longer happy working for the bank. It was a spur of the moment decision but you knew it was the right one. You didn’t even know where to apply next or what career to pursue. But you weren’t worried like you had expected to be.

Bucky taught you to take risks, to not fear the unknown because things will eventually fall into place. You felt good though, that you were slowly learning to step out of your comfort zone. But something was amiss and you knew what it was. Or who it was.

You just weren’t ready to admit it yet.

It was around nine in the evening when you went to the grocery store for a last minute shopping decision. Wanda was coming over for a movie night and apparently, you didn’t have any snacks left.

Finishing your list, you turned at the corner of an aisle and collided with somebody. Your apology died on your tongue when you looked up to see a familiar face.

Steve.

“Hi.” You softly greeted, wondering if he would even remember you.

He frowned at you and you were surprised that he remembered you and actually knew about that night.

“Why’d you leave Bucky just like that?” He asked right away.

You swallowed and avoided his gaze, “It was...it’s not a big deal. It was a one-time thing anyway.” You lied through your teeth.

Steve scoffed, “It didn’t seem like a one-time thing when Bucky came to our rehearsals the next day feeling bummed out.” He explained and sighed afterwards, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m in no position to interfere. I don’t know you and why you did that so who am I to judge? But I know Bucky. He isn’t what you think he is.” Steve said.

“I know.” You whispered.

“Then why’d you leave?” Steve asked again but didn’t wait for a response.

“Bucky may come off a little too strong, he’s straightforward and passionate. He gives it his all and that night with you...he gave everything. He was really hurt when you left.”

You were unable to speak because fuck, you messed up big time. You didn’t know that Bucky was going to feel that way when you left. You got scared and ran away even when there was nothing to be afraid of. Steve must have noticed your guilt and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“We’re playing tonight at the music bar. You have the chance to make things right.” Steve said and offered you a small smile before leaving.

You stood in the grocery store while in deep thoughts. Again, your mind was all kinds of messed up and your thoughts were fighting for dominance. There were sirens going on and off and fuck, it was all driving you insane. Your heart began to race when you felt an impending sense of doom wash over you. You were panicking and you were fighting so hard to calm your nerves.

And then you remembered Bucky that night and how he was quick to silence your brain with a simple yet comforting gesture.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

A thumb on your forehead to soothe your worries. Those steel blue eyes providing you comfort, and that charming smile that never failed to reassure you.

You quickly called Wanda.

“Movie night is cancelled!”

The dimly lit music bar welcomed you with a sense of familiarity. It had been more than a week since your encounter with Bucky and yet it felt like it was only yesterday.

Smiling to yourself, you remembered how tensed you were when Bucky first approached you. You were so defensive, you had your walls built up high but Bucky managed to bring them down. It didn’t even take him the full twelve hours to do so.

The music bar was full with no vacant spot near the stage. The current band just finished their song and was preparing to exit. You squeezed your way to the front, ignoring the complaints of people you slightly pushed away. A familiar voice greeted the crowd a good evening before introducing their band.

Your breath hitched when you spotted Bucky onstage. His hair was down and he was sporting a little bit of scruff. You watched him play his guitar but something was different. He wasn’t as passionate as he used to be, like he wasn’t focused. He almost looked like he didn’t want to be there. And his eyes, they were empty and void of any emotion. No mischievous glint in them, no nothing.

It broke your heart seeing Bucky like this, especially that you knew you were the reason for it.

It took a while for Bucky to look up and scan the crowd and when he finally did, his eyes immediately met yours.

Just like the first time, you felt your face heat up from the eye contact. Bucky was surprised to see you, you saw how his eyes widened at the sight of you. He was quick to recover though, he looked away and focused on playing the guitar instead.

As soon as his band exited the stage, you wasted no time to approach them. Steve greeted you with a nod before calling for Nat and Sam, asking for them accompany him to the bar to give you some privacy. Bucky refused to look at you as he gathered his stuff, preparing to leave.

“Can we talk?” You asked.

“I’m heading home.” Bucky curtly responded and brushed past you.

The tables have turned with you walking ahead of him to block his way.

“The night is young, stay a while and keep me company?” You used his line and Bucky was having none of it.

He scoffed and shook his head, “I’m surprised you remembered what I said. I mean, after you just disappeared I assumed you’d completely forgotten about that night.”

“I didn’t.” You told him. “Can we please talk?” You pleaded.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, I really wanna go home.” He said.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, “Give me twelve minutes.” You offered.

“Just twelve minutes of your time. Please, Bucky.”

The two of you stepped outside the bar for some silence. Bucky walked over to his bike, leaning against it as he looked at you coldly. Those eyes used to gaze at you with warmth, but now they were blank and cold.

“Time is ticking.” He said when you kept mum.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear like that.” You said, looking down at your feet.

How else were you going to say your piece? You had practiced your speech on the way to the bar and now that Bucky was in front of you, you couldn’t even look at him from shame.

Bucky scoffed, “You asked me for twelve minutes and that’s all you’re gonna say? You’re sorry? Just that?” He bitterly chuckled, running a hand over his scruff.

“If you didn’t mean it then why did you leave? You left me without any warning. I honestly thought there was something between us. After everything that happened, how could you just walk away like that? You led me on, didn’t you?” Bucky angrily asked.

“I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t but I got scared!” You admitted.

“Scared of what?” He asked. “Scared of me? Because I’m not the kind of guy you usually go for? You really couldn’t get rid of that first impression, huh?” He said and turned around.

“That’s not the reason why. Everything scared me because that night was something else. You were too good to be true, Bucky! That’s what scared me!” You told him.

Bucky turned around, his brows creased, “What?”

When you woke up that morning, everything seemed perfect. The past twelve hours you had spent with Bucky were wonderful and you loved every second of it. You enjoyed too much and the thought of it being a one-time thing really broke your heart.

You had attachment issues and you thought that giving in to Bucky would help you learn to enjoy things as they were. But it didn’t and made it even worse because you got attached, so fucking attached.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of ending those twelve hours with a permanent goodbye so I left. You suddenly talked about next time and tomorrow and it was...it was overwhelming for me. My fear got the best of me because that night was too good. You were too good.”

Bucky’s expression softened after hearing your side. Now you felt stupid for overthinking things. It was selfish on your part to assume that those twelve hours meant nothing to Bucky.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized softly. “That night meant everything to me, Bucky. I just wasn’t ready to find out whether it meant the same to you.” You confessed with a sigh.

Bucky stayed quiet after your confession. You could feel your bile rising, you wanted to throw up. Hell, you wanted to just faint and forget about everything. If Bucky wouldn’t give you a second chance, you’d understand him. You did a pretty shitty thing to him anyway.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You lifted your gaze upon hearing that line. Bucky’s eyes had their warmth back and his expression was no longer stoic. He pushed himself away from his bike and approached you, reaching out to soothe the crease on your forehead.

“It’s not everyday that I find myself in the company of a stranger who made me feel things. I’ve always been a traditional one, I take things slow and I’ve been very careful. When I felt something during those twelve hours, I was caught off guard. I never felt so strongly for someone I just met and it was all new to me and I panicked.” You confessed.

“You were out of my comfort zone and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t mean to disappear like that, Bucky.”

You were met with pure silence after your admission. When you looked up at Bucky, you couldn’t read his expression. Thinking that he wasn’t buying your explanation, you let out a bitter chuckle and shrugged.

“I guess that’s it. Twelve minutes. No more no less. I just wanted you to know that, Bucky. And I’m really, really sorry.” You said and slowly backed away, ready to leave.

“Hey.” Bucky called out, approaching you.

“If I asked you to spend the next twelve hours with me again, where would you go after?” He asked.

Was this a test? You didn’t know how to respond and Bucky seemed to have caught up on that and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Will you stay until the morning this time?” He asked. “‘Cause I was pretty disappointed when I woke up to an empty bed. I had our brunch planned out, you know?”

The mischievous glint in Bucky’s eyes was back. You bit back a smile when Bucky cradled your head into his palm, thumb circling the skin on your neck.

You timidly nodded, tilting your head up to meet Bucky’s lips in a searing kiss that promised you another twelve hours together. And more.

“No more running off in the morning.”

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky @5-seconds-of-mendes

#bbb writes #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #sebastian stan

944 notes · View notes

helion-ism · 3 years

Text

let’s talk about elucien

there are so many reasons why I love elain x lucien and why I think these two would not only be amazing together, but also why they belong together. one of those reasons is lucien’s sassy personality, which we already got a glimpse of in acotar (and that I miss terribly btw), and which is, in my opinion, exactly what elain needs in her life. we’re talking about lucien “your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold” vanserra. we know he’s got quite a big mouth, that’s how we got to know him, but we also know that mouth is exactly what’s gotten him into trouble before. case in point: the eye incident. lucien doesn’t mince his words and yes, that is one of the reasons why elain really needs to spend some more time with him.

she has been coddled by not only her father, nesta, feyre, but also the entire inner circle, which has allowed her to live her life passively. yes, she killed the king of hybern, and good for her, but she did it because nobody else could have done it at that point in time. ever since the war ended, elain has not actively contributed to any plot matters, whether by choice or because someone else took the choice from her. azriel said in acosf, “there is an innate darkness to the dread trove that elain should not be exposed to.” even amren pointed out that elain is capable of defending herself, but for some reason, nobody let her even though elain said she would try to find it: “then I will find it. I might require some time to … reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” and yet, by the end of the book, elain’s been barely in it and has not contributed at all. (I know some people claim there’s certain things already happening in the background, but honestly, I’m not satisfied with that development happening off page, so I can’t wait to finally go on her journey and actually see her do stuff)

this moment is crucial:

does it look like she is happy with the way the others treat her? not really. when nesta snapped at her, elain started laughing. that signals relief to me because nesta, the one who has always tried to protect elain the most (nesta baby Ilysm), is the one who suddenly lost her patience. elain needs somebody like lucien, somebody with a big mouth and sassy attitude, who can coax her out of that paralysis she’s been stuck in, a bit like nesta in this scene. additionally, the banter would be top tier. I want another “if I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?” moment, please. god please. (elain blinks. “and where would you like that kiss?” — and lucien just loses his mind.)

another thing that lives in my head rent free is the fact that lucien has travelled almost everywhere and could introduce elain, who wishes to see more of the world (see: “elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers”), to the different courts and the continent. I refuse to accept that we will not get to learn more about the other courts, for my sake, but also for elain’s sake. I want her to see the spring court at least once. I want her to go and see those tulips she’s dreamt of. I want her and lucien to discover the day court as a new home, which brings me to the next point.

elain has been craving sunshine for some time now. there’s several quotes that emphasise her connection to sunshine/light, here are a few of my favourites:

I marveled at it, actually — that those years of poverty hadn‘t stripped away that light from elain.

the suite was filled with sunlight. every curtain shoved back as far as it could go, to let in as much sun as possible. as if any bit of darkness was abhorrent.

she had been always so full of light. perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. to fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. and now nothing remained.

what can I get you, elain? — sunshine.

elain doesn’t belong into the night court. feyre has found her family there, with rhys and the inner circle. nesta has found (or should I say accepted) cassian and found gwyn and emerie, her chosen sisters. but elain?

elain is somewhere in the background hiding with the twins and tending to gardens of the citizens of velaris. you can’t tell me that is satisfactory to you. she is currently ignoring her seer abilities, and the members of the inner circle are basically encouraging her to do so. the only time she’s been confronted lately was during that conversation with nesta and her reaction was not exactly what any of us readers would have expected, was it? that tells me there’s much more about her we don’t know yet, and I’m convinced we won’t know until she finally leaves and finds her own people, finds herself again and start dealing with everything that happened to her. elain must leave the night court, i.e. the darkness, behind in order to grow.

the same goes to lucien: he’s not at a place where he can just jump into a relationship or mating bond. he’s got so much stuff going on. lucien was forced to abandon his home and his abusive family, his “father” killed the fae he loved in front of his eyes, his best friend is an abusive pos who never appreciated him anyway, and neither has anyone in the night court. lucien is used because of his connections and because of the mating bond that ties him to elain, whether he wanted it or not. feyre knows he would never turn away from elain unless she explicitly wishes him to, and so she and rhys and the others use that to their advantage. it is smart, of course, but at the same time, they also keep important information about his own life from him that could change many, many things. so he’s spending his time with mortals in the human lands — a place where he as a fae really does not belong.

lucien being the heir to the day court, well, to me, it feels like sjm is practically screaming it into our face: how could he find a home in the night court, the literal opposite to the day? darkness vs. light. and what about elain “he’d never once in the two years he’d known her found elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … it sucked the life from her” archeron? just looking at the symbolism, not only do the quotes from above indicate that the night court cannot possibly be her home, but also very recent quotes from the latest book. elain is a side character in the night court. and so is lucien. they both need to leave in order to become main characters — and it doesn’t even matter that both are already crucial to the further plot of the series because how can they possibly contribute to it in a place where they are both kept down?

mor said in acofas: “stay out of it. she’s not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings.” and “let him figure out where he wants to be. who he wants to be. the same goes with her.” mor’s power is “truth”, whatever that means. but there you have it. they’re not ready to be with each other yet, and that’s okay.

[elain and lucien are also connected not only because of the mating bond, but also because of the plot. lucien must know quite a lot about her and her sisters simply because of all the time he spent with their father. the father who made a bargain with koschei. koschei who put a spell on vassa. lucien is therefore tied to both papa archeron as well as koschei and vassa. elain, we know, is a seer, despite her not using her abilities (or is she, and we simply don’t know?). elain is (obviously) connected to her father, but also to koschei and vassa (remember those visions she had).]

now let’s get to the mating bond stuff, and I need to say this loud and clear: elain has always had and will always have one (1) true mate. there’s no such thing as “false mate” or even multiple mates. there has been no indication whatsoever. lucien is the mate the cauldron had given her when she was born. and elain is the mate the cauldron had given him when he was born. even when she was still human, they already belonged together — tied together by strings of fate. absolutely nothing will change this fact. should elain reject the bond, lucien will remain a part of her life/her soul forever. should lucien reject the bond, elain will remain a part of his life/his soul forever.

when she was still human, lucien had already felt a pull between them and tried to save and protect her from hybern. when elain was already fae, when it came to protecting her, azriel clapped cassian’s shoulder and left (is this the true mate they’re all talking about?). it’s unfair to lucien, elain, AND azriel and this comparison alone is enough to disprove this theory.

the thing is, lucien has been nothing but respectful, kind and caring towards elain. when he arrived in velaris in acowar, he could immediately sense what she needed and said, “she needs fresh air” (vs. the response “we’ll judge what she needs”) and “take her to the sea. take her to some garden. but get her out of this house for an hour or two.” (I’m gonna make another post about this because I have a few thoughts on this)

of course, she doesn’t owe him anything, but elain herself doesn’t wish to be treated like a child, she maybe she should start acting like an adult because although she doesn’t owe lucien an apology or explanation, she has to have a conversation with him, like two responsible adults. there is no way feyre or anyone in the inner circle hasn’t told her that she can reject the bond and move on with her life. but just like her powers, this is another thing she chooses to ignore. I’m not blaming her because I know she has to work through her trauma first and heal, but by the end of the series, she has to acknowledge that at least.

in acosf, elain says “I am not a child to be fought over” when they discuss the dread trove. I wonder what she would say about the fact azriel threatens to challenge lucien to the blood duel because of her? based on literally everything we know about lucien, I can say with certainty that he would not physically fight over elain. if she only had a conversation with him and told him to move on and leave her alone, lucien would do just that. he would leave her alone and try to move on as best as he could (which we know is difficult for males). but he would never act as entitled to her as to demand a blood duel and fight to death. it goes against his principles.

to finish this off, sjm summing up everything I just said:

#elucien #mating bond #mp

109 notes · View notes

joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader x Diavolo

Word Count: 10,061

Preview: The Royals have been bogged down with a busy workload, so you decided to help relieve some of their stress in whatever way you can.

Read as: Barbatos has a thing for rope bondage, and Diavolo is just happy to be involved.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Also! This is a follow-up to Bath Time, and Helping Hands, so if you haven’t read those, I would recommend doing that first!

For as long as you’ve known Barbatos, you’ve assumed that the butler is perfect in every sense of the word. He’s skilled, and handles his tasks without complaint, and in a timely manner. He addresses his duties with a kind smile—never wavering.

Despite his busy schedule, he never shows signs of cracking.

…until today.

You walk into RAD that fateful Friday morning, and discover Barbatos in the student council room—frowning. Now, seeing Barbatos frown is not entirely out of character. You’ve seen him frown in worry, and in concentration. He does have emotions, after all, but…today he just looks stressed.

There are dark circles under his eyes. The way he’s hurriedly searching through papers—a few slipping off the table and onto the floor—is a sign of his current out-of-character state.

Without second thought, you stride into the room and begin picking up the papers on the floor. Barbatos startles ever so slightly when he notices you at his feet—too absorbed in his current task to have heard you approach.

He sighs.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Are you okay?” you respond to his quiet, tired words. There’s genuine concern in your eyes as you press to your full height, and hand the small stack of papers back to him. “I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“It’s been quite a hectic week…or two,” he admits, exhaling in relief as he finally uncovers the report he’d been looking for. “Typically, like students, Lord Diavolo and I are able to rest on the weekends—only dealing with a few, small meetings here or there. But the last two weeks, every day is busy from dawn to dusk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say sincerely. You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Barbatos smiles at the gesture. Then, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he sets the paper in his hand back on the desk, and turns to fully face you. He envelops you in a tender hug—one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other moves to cradle against the back of your head.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this sudden display of affection,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your ear as his cheek nuzzles against your hair. “I didn’t realize how much being unable to see you on Sunday would affect me during the week.”

His admission has your cheeks heating up ever so slightly, and you lift your arms—wrapping them tightly around his middle.

Due to Barbatos and Diavolo’s lack of free time, the two had been forced to cancel their tea time with you the previous weekend. You’d been disappointed, considering you’d gotten so used to ending your week in the company of the two, but there was nothing you could do about it. If they were busy, you’d have to suck it up.

“Will you be free this weekend?” you ask him, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He can see the concern, and longing in your gaze. Apparently, you’ve missed him and his Lord as well.

“I can work around your schedule, since I don’t have much to do. Of course, if you’re both too busy, I’ll understand, but—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead.

“I will double check the schedule and contact you later.” He reaches over and grabs the stack of papers—topped with the report he’d been looking for. As he takes the neat stack into his arms, he turns and flashes you one last smile.

“Thank you for the brief moment of peace. It is greatly appreciated.”

With that, he makes his way out of the student council room with the normal poise and grace he always exhibits. Once alone, you take a deep breath, and hold a hand to your cheek. It’s warm—painted with a light blush.

Really, it’s rare that Barbatos is the one to initiate a show of affection with you. Typically, you’re the one hugging him (although he always reciprocates).

The last time he had initiated skinship was weeks ago, after he’d paid you a visit at the House of Lamentation due to your ailing back.

Memories of that night attempt to push to the forefront of your mind, and you desperately try to shove them away. It’s the middle of the day—you don’t need to be thinking about Barbatos’ hands on your skin, or the way his fingers had felt inside of you…the way he’d looked while his dick was in your mouth…his cute post-orgasm face…

Shaking your head, you smack your red cheeks. You don’t need to be thinking about those types of things during school hours.

Yes, it’s been a few weeks since that fateful day with the royal butler, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind sexually every so often since then. However, you’d gotten bogged down with school work—any of your scarce free time going to the brothers—so despite your longing, and Barbatos’ offer of another massage if you wished, you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Then, of course, once your schedule had opened up, Barbatos’ had narrowed. His duties piled up—filling his days with work—and you’d have felt far too guilty asking him for anything on top of his already busy schedule.

Aside from last Sunday, you’d still managed to maintain your weekly appointment of Sunday evening tea with the butler and Demon Prince, but bringing up sexual favors while sipping on Earl Grey and eating tiny sandwiches hardly seemed appropriate.

So, you’ve accepted that maybe it will be a while until you’re able to inquire about Barbatos’ services again. And while it’s a little disappointing, you don’t intend to push the matter. Barbatos already works so hard, and you don’t want to burden him with your sexual need.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the straps of your backpack, and nod to yourself. While you long for another massage experience from the royal butler, you can live without one. Right now, you just want his schedule to clear up, so you can resume your regular Sunday tea with him and Diavolo. And if that’s all you’re able to receive, at the moment, then you’ll still be satisfied.

Smiling, you finally step out of the student council room and make your way to your next class.

Hours later—as you’re heading back to your room following dinner with the brothers—you feel your DDD vibrate. Curious, you pull out the device and look at the notification lingering on the screen.

[New Text from Barbatos]

Your heart skips a beat—nervous to see the contents. There’s a big possibility that the royals are still busy this weekend, and that they won’t be able to squeeze you in anywhere.

You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking into the message.

Barbatos: I apologize for my late follow-up. It seems that Lord Diavolo and I will not be available for our normal Sunday Tea time again.

Barbatos: However, I am free starting at 7pm on Saturday evening, if you would like to come over. Lord Diavolo will be tied up with a meeting until a bit later, but he expressed interest in joining should the meeting adjourn at an acceptable hour.

Barbatos: I understand if you already have plans, but please let me know if I should expect you.

You’d already promised to have a self-care night with Asmo on Saturday, but honestly—you’re sure that he’ll understand.

You: That works just fine for me! I will be over at 7 tomorrow.

Barbatos responds with a happy sticker, and you find yourself smiling. You can’t wait to see them.

The hours tick by slower than you think possible the following day as you wait for evening to come.

Due to the addition into your schedule, you and Asmo change your self-care night to a self-care afternoon. Thankfully, Gossiping with the Avatar of Lust--while doing face masks, and sipping on mimosas--definitely helps to pass the time quicker.

The two of you finish up just before dinner, and head down to the dining hall together. You eat merrily with the 7 brothers—making conversation, and listening to their banter. By the time the table is cleared, and everyone’s bellies are full of food, it’s already nearing 6:30.

Hurrying back to your room, you make sure you look presentable. You mess with your hair—trading your shorts and tank top for a knee-length sundress. Not only has the Devildom been heating up lately, but you always try to dress a bit nicer in front of the royals. So, a sundress should be perfect for the occasion.

Throwing your DDD into a small purse Satan had gifted you some time ago, you sling the bag over your shoulder and make your way from your room. You run into Lucifer by the front door, and he surveys you with a knowing look.

“You’re headed to the Demon Lord’s Castle, correct? I’ll walk you part way. I’m leaving to meet someone in town.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping through the front door when he holds it open for you. The two of you then start away from the House of Lamentation, comfortably at each other’s sides.

“How did you know that I’m heading to the Castle?” you ask him as you walk. You don’t recall sharing your plans for the night with any of the brothers. Even when you’d changed the time of your plans with Asmo, and he had inquired, you’d just said that something had come up. (He had begrudgingly accepted that response—too curious for his own good).

“I had a meeting with Barbatos and Diavolo this morning,” he tells you, eyes ahead as he guides you through the crowded streets. “Diavolo was whining about how he hopes his meeting with the planning committee tonight won’t drag on too long, so he can join you and Barbatos before it’s time for you to leave.”

“I mean…how late can the meeting possibly drag?” you question, blinking innocently. There’s no way a meeting will last beyond…10…11pm, right?

“Depending on the matters that need to be discussed, I’ve witnessed the meeting last until 2 in the morning,” he informs you with a shake of his head. “Diavolo hates speaking with the committee more than anything, so I hope he’ll be able to wrap things up in a timely manner.”

“That would be nice,” you say honestly. “It seems like they’ve both been running rampant... Speaking of, how is your workload?”

You grin up at him, a knowing look in your eyes. Lucifer sighs, smoothing a hand through his dark hair.

“My time to sleep is limited, but for once, it seems that I’m not fairing the worst among the three of us. I hope your visit with Barbatos and Diavolo will help them relax a little.”

“I don’t know if I have that type of power, but I hope so too,” you laugh, pausing when Lucifer places his hand atop your hair. He regards you fondly—the two of you standing in the middle of the city street.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, and then steps away. “This is where I leave you. I believe you know the rest of the way, yes?”

You nod, and he raises a hand—bidding you farewell.

“Don’t stay too late. If you need an escort home, text the group chat and one of us will come get you.”

“Will do, Lucifer~,” you drawl, tempted to roll your eyes. They’re always so overprotective of you—it’s not like you always need an escort.

Lucifer flashes you the slightest of glares—lips tugging into a smirk—before he turns and disappears up a side street. Now on your own, you continue up the wide road—taking the familiar path to the castle. You arrive a few minutes later, and when you knock on the grand front door, it only takes a few seconds for Barbatos to pull it open.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, eyes creasing pleasantly as he smiles. You can see the exhaustion beginning to settle into the small lines of his face.

“Of course. I was looking forward to seeing you,” you respond honestly. As he guides you into the castle, you can hear the chatter of distant voices, and assume that Diavolo’s meeting with the committee must have already started.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to prepare the tea yet.”

“No worries!” you say immediately, flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help out if I can, too!”

Barbatos chuckles. “I’d appreciate that.”

Engulfed in a comfortable silence, the two of you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, Barbatos pulls out a kettle, and then moves to fetch the tea. However, when he pulls open the wooden cupboard, he pauses.

Curious, you step up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

The cupboard is entirely empty.

Barbatos places his gloved palms on the counter, his head hanging in defeat, and an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. You stare at him, shocked to see the crack in his professional demeanor.

“The other servants must have grabbed the last of it to serve the guests at the meeting…”

“It’s okay, Barb!!” You say immediately, jumping back and throwing your arms into the air. “We don’t need tea!! It’s not Sunday anyway!”

The butler turns to look at you, and can’t help but laugh at your dorky position.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, raising a hand to cover his face as he releases a few more chuckles. Your cheeks heat up a little, realizing you must look silly, and you drop your arms.

“Besides, I don’t want you to feel obligated to serve me while I’m here! This is supposed to be a break for you, since you’ve been so busy!”

“But if we’re not having tea, then what shall we do?” he questions, tilting his head to the side innocently. You blink, lifting a hand to your chin as you ponder the thought.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you relax?” you smile at him kindly as you speak. “You’ve been working hard, so if there’s anything I can do to ease some of the stress off your shoulders, I’d love to help.”

Barbatos regards you curiously at the offer—like there’s an idea that immediately comes to mind, but he’s not sure if he wants to say it. You assume that perhaps he’ll ask you to help with a chore, or will ask for something like a foot rub. Oh! Or maybe to play a board game.

Instead, he ends up flashing you a small smile. He extends his hand, holding it out to you, and you take it without a second thought. Fingers slotting through your own, he then tugs you from the kitchen and back into the hall—leading you somewhere else.

“There is a hobby I have that helps me to relieve stress. It’s a bit…unorthodox, so if you’re not comfortable with it, then—”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Barb!” you interrupt him, a pout on your lips. “I want to help you unwind, so whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”

He gives your hand a squeeze, an amused look in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with a rebuttal—simply letting you think what you wish.

Silently, he guides you through the long halls. At some point, you pass the entrance to the magnificent bathroom you’d once discovered Diavolo bathing in. Your experience with the aphrodisiac, and Diavolo helping you out on that night feels like a fever dream. The thought of his stupidly large cock, and his hands on your body has you getting warm all over, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of the sinful imagery.

The event had happened months ago, at this point. Since then, you and Diavolo have never spoken on it, and you wonder if he regrets his actions—feeling like perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries with a guest in the heat of the moment.

However, considering he acts friendly and kind to you as always—still offering hugs, and other simple shows of affections—you haven’t bothered confronting him about it. As long as the two of you are on good terms, that’s what matters to you. (Even if you have occasionally fantasized about fitting his cock inside you since then).

“Are you thinking of Lord Diavolo?” Barbatos’ voice drags you out of your thoughts, a knowing look in his eyes as he regards you. You blush, embarrassed at having been read so easily.

“I…I just…I wonder, sometimes, if he solely helped me out of a sense of obligation, or if he enjoyed it as much as I did,” you admit quietly. Barbatos gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve never talked about what happened, so…Agh, I’m sorry—is it weird that I’m talking about this with you? I don’t—”

“It’s not strange, Y/N,” he interrupts you with a shake of his head. “Lord Diavolo and I are quite close. Not to mention, I was there the night you were affected by the bath, remember?”

In that moment, you suddenly recall that yes—Barbatos had been there to see you in all of your needy glory—and you heat up more. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

“While Lord Diavolo may have acted as he did to stop the effects of the aphrodisiac, I assure you he received just as much enjoyment out of your predicament as you did.”

Curious to the meaning of his words, you furrow your brow and stare at him. Barbatos just smiles—giving nothing away. Not until you start angrily pouting, at least. Then, he loosens his lips with a quiet sigh.

“I went to check on My Lord after I saw you return to your room, and when I approached his chambers, I could tell he was…preoccupied with the affliction you had given him.”

Meaning, he had overhead Diavolo jacking off to the thought of you after he’d left you alone in the bathing area to clean yourself up.

Ah.

“Okay, can we stop talking about this before I combust, and die?” you ask, a hint of a whine slipping into your tone. You tug your hand from Barb’s grip to cover your blushing face. He chuckles.

“For someone so lewd, you certainly do get embarrassed easily by your own actions.”

“I’m gonna request that you STOP calling me out like this, thanks,” you shoot back, glaring at him through spread fingers. He breathes a laugh, and you pause in your stride as he suddenly stops in front of a closed door.

Looking around, you realize that you’ve never been to this part of the castle before.

Twisting the handle to the door, Barbatos pushes it open and then ushers you inside. You regard the sizable room curiously.

It looks similar to any other lounge in the castle. The walls are lined with bookshelves and paintings. There are four couches—all placed in large square formation around where a coffee table would typically be. However, there is no coffee table.

Instead, about 8 feet from the ground, there’s a long, thick strip of bamboo. The bamboo is held up by tan colored rope—thick, professional knots secured to either end of the wood, and leading back up to hooks on the ceiling.

In fact, when you look closer. You can see that there are hooks mounted to the ceiling in multiple areas around the room. Not to mention the dozen spirals of rope hanging off hooks near the fireplace.

You swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth.

“You…use rope bondage to relieve stress?”

“Oh? You’re familiar with it?” he questions, stepping across the threshold of the room. He reaches up to grab one of the perfectly kept bundles of rope—trailing his fingers across the soft, red fibers.

You hold your arms shyly in front of you. This is a turn of events which you hadn’t been expecting tonight.

“I’ve always found it to be interesting, and beautiful, in a way,” you admit, purposely leaving out how you find it entirely too arousing as well. Just the thought of Barbatos tying you up has wetness already beginning to gather between your thighs. But, you don’t want to make it awkward—fearing that perhaps Barb doesn’t get any sexual gratification from the activity—so you stay silent about how much it turns you on.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me relieve some of my stress, if this is what is involved?”

Your gaze shifts from the handsome butler, to the rope in his grasp, to the bamboo anchor in the center of the room. You wet your lips, and then smile at him.

“Of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

At your words, Barbatos steps forward—stalking over to where you’re standing just within the ring of couches. His mossy eyes regard you softly. You feel your heart hammering away within your ribs.

“Do you promise you’re saying that sincerely? I don’t want to hurt you, nor push you beyond what you’re comfortable with.”

“I know, Barb,” you tell him softly. You reach your hand out—fingertips skimming over slightly rough fibers of the rope. You’re sure you’ll feel a slight bite when he ties you up, but the thought only serves to heighten your arousal. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want to help. And I trust you. Please don’t worry—this is what I want.”

A pleased look settling on his face, he leans down and presses the briefest of kisses to your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear so.”

Taking a step back, the butler regards you contemplatively.

“I would hate to ruin your dress. And it’s easier to tie with less clothing in the way. Would you mind removing it?”

Your face heats up at the request, but you nod—moving to slip the straps off your shoulders. After all, he’d massaged you all those weeks ago. It’s not like seeing your body is anything new to him.

“Just the dress?”

It’s an innocent question. You want to make his job as easy as possible.

“You—”

“Hey, isn’t this basically just more work for you?” you interrupt him as you shimmy your dress down your torso to the swell of your hips. He chuckles, gaze flitting down to look at your sheer-lace bra. The black color matches your underwear—although the panties aren’t lace, nor see through. (You hadn’t accidentally wanted to flash a demon (or at least, reveal too much) in town if the wind decided to flip your dress up on your journey over).

“It does take effort on my part, but I don’t consider it to be “work”,” he tells you. “And yes, just your dress is fine. Your undergarments won’t get in the way.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice soft. You finish stepping out of your dress—discarding it onto one of the nearby couches. Barb looks over your form appreciatively, and you seriously wish you could learn how to control your blushes.

“It’s important that you stretch, first. I don’t want you hurting your back again.”

“What? Not interested in giving me any more massages?” you tease, eyes sparkling at him. He breathes a laugh.

“I never said that.”

As you bend over—touching your toes, and stretching out your tight muscles, Barbatos moves across the room to grab more spools of rope. The entire time, his gaze lingers on you—taking note of your level of flexibility.

He’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. The cogs in his brain start turning as he silently debates which position he should tie you in.

After a few minutes of stretching, it seems that Barbatos is finally satisfied to begin.

“This may take some time to tie. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or the rope feels too tight—please let me know.”

“I will, Barb.”

With that, the demon butler is quick to get to work. He instructs you to lift your arms, and you do so obediently—watching him as he wraps the rope around your torso, just beneath your bust. He stops every so often to check the firmness of his ties—making sure that he can slip a finger between the rope and your skin. He wants it to be loose enough that it won’t impede your blood flow, but tight enough that you’ll stay bound once he attempts to suspend you.

Before long, Barbatos has dressed you with a chess harness—your clothed tits pressing against the lacy fabric of your bra as the ties above, below, and between your breasts squeeze your mounds and push them outwards.

Satisfied with his work, he nods his head and takes a step away.

“Could you please sit on the floor, and spread your legs?”

His request reminds you of the growing pool of arousal in your nether region, but you comply nonetheless.

Sitting on the hardwood floor, you drop your arms to your sides and spread your legs. As you do so, the butler walks over to the fireplace. Just above the mantle is a hook—a strand of rope securely weaved around it. As Barbatos works on loosening the thick, hemp rope, you trace it’s path across the ceiling, and realize it’s the rope currently controlling the height of the bamboo anchor above you.

As the demon unfurls the rope from around the hook, the solid strip of bamboo moves closer to the ground. Soon, it’s only a few feet from the floor.

Satisfied with its new height—at least for the time being—Barbatos loosely wraps the rope back around the hook and then returns to your side. He kneels behind you, and you gasp when his fingers tug at the knot of rope between your shoulder blades.

“Too tight?” he questions, reaching to snag another bundle of red rope from the couch. You shake your head.

“Nope, just right.”

He hums considerately at your comment, sounding a little amused.

You remain silent as he drags more rope against your back—threading it through the bulk of your chest harness. Each pass of the soft fabric has goosebumps rising on your skin, and your gaze glances down between your still spread legs.

Hopefully since your panties are black, he won’t be able to see the wet spot that has formed…

You breathe shakily when Barbatos hefts the rope over the bamboo bar—giving it a tug. You feel the chest harness hug your tits ever tighter at the action, and you bite your lip to hold back from groaning. Honestly, if he touched your clit right now, you’re sure he could bring you to climax with little effort…

However, since you’re still attempting to be considerate of the fact that this is his stress relief, you don’t say anything. You remain carefully silent as he secures you to the anchor via the chest harness—an additional length of rope winding around your waist. He ties it to the bamboo as well—hoping to take some of the pressure off of your chest, seeing as he doesn’t want to bruise your ribs.

Once that’s taken care of, he moves in front of you. There are two more lengths of rope in his grasp.

For the first time in a while, Barbatos takes a moment to regard you. He’s been so caught up in his work, that aside from little inquiries as to your comfort, he hasn’t gotten a chance to really check in on you.

What he finds before him is a little startling.

Your cheeks are painted red—eyes blown wide, and lips slightly swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in order to try and control your reactions. As his gaze rakes down, glossing over your chest, he notes that your breathing is quick--your nipples taut against the thin cups of your bra. A tell-tale sign of your arousal.

A handsome grin tugs at his lips.

Reaching down, he squeezes the meat of your inner thigh with one hand, stretching your leg open wider. He lifts his other hand to his mouth—effortlessly tugging the white glove off with his teeth—before he’s dragging two of his digits gently up the crotch of your panties.

“My, I guess I shouldn’t have worried about being selfish with my request,” he chuckles. You pout at him angrily, eyes glancing away.

“Don’t tease me…I was trying to be polite…”

The pout on your lips fades away the moment his naked palm cups your cheek. Gently, he guides you to look at him—his face just inches from yours.

“I apologize for teasing,” he says. “I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying yourself beyond what I expected.”

To emphasize his words, he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. Immediately you’re moaning, hands reaching forward to fist in his shirt—keeping him close to you. Your mouths slot together—slow, languid kisses being exchanged between you.

“Would you like to continue?” he eventually mumbles, and when your eyelashes flutter open, you find him staring at you—a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been present before.

“Yes, please.”

Sitting back, Barbatos tugs off his other glove and immediately resumes his work.

He starts at your ankles—wrapping the rope around you a few times, before tossing it over the bamboo--this time on the outside of the sturdy hemp, which is keeping the light-weight wood anchored to the ceiling. He repeats the action on your other leg, mirroring his previous actions, and then moves to make a tie just above your knee with a new spool.

This time, there’s an additional command.

“Lift your arms up.”

You do so, watching him with bated breath as he once again threads the rope across the slab of wood above you. This time, however, he pulls the rope tight—hiking your leg as high as it will go in combination with the ankle ties keeping your legs spread wide.

Once the rope is taut, he ties it around your wrists—letting you keep your arms bent. Your hand instinctively moves to hold onto the rope once the knot is finished, and you give it an experimental tug downward. The additional tension causes your legs to part even more—revealing all you have to offer.

“Are you, ah, fond of having girls spread wide like this for you?” you ask, a little breathless as you watch him grab one final coil of the rope. This time he moves to secure it around your upper thighs, right near your pelvis. He threads it beneath the rope around your waist—tugging it tight, and truly making sure your legs are spread as much as possible. You actually start to feel a dull strain as he makes the final tie—mirroring it on your other leg, per usual.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responds, smiling as he pulls on the rope in a few places—making small adjustments to the tension in certain ties in order to ensure that your weight will be evenly distributed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this, and I can confidently say that you’re making it far more entertaining than I expected.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that.”

Chuckling, he presses to his feet and moves past you. The butler makes his way to the fireplace, once more taking hold of the rope tied above it.

“I’m going to suspend you now,” he informs you, and your pussy clenches at his words. “If you feel pain, tell me and we will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” you breathe, licking your lips. In the next moment, you feel the rope around you dig into your skin ever so slightly—your ass inching off of the ground as Barbatos effortlessly moves the bamboo anchor higher into the air.

Within seconds—you're fully suspended, your body about 3 feet from the floor. The rope bites at your flesh, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you that you’re tied up, in the air, and at Barbatos’ mercy.

Since you don’t express any discontent, Barbatos re-secures the rope around the hook, and then makes his way to the center of the room. He takes his time walking around you—surveying his work. His fingers trail across your sensitive skin, making you gasp. Your legs jump against the bindings in reaction to his touches, but your limbs barely move--his skillful ties keeping you obediently held in the position he has chosen for you.

“Barb…,” you whine, not knowing how much more of this you can take. You’ve been horny since the moment you’d stepped foot into the room, and you’re sure at least an hour has passed since he began tying you—if not more. Your panties are practically soaked. You need some type of relief, and soon, or you honestly think you’ll explode.

Barbatos steps in front of you, two fingers hooking beneath your chin and angling your head up to look at him. He smiles.

“Is there a problem?”

There’s a mirthful glint in his eye. It’s clear he’s feeling more playful now that he’s in his element.

“I…please touch me.”

“I thought earlier you expressed worry in me doing “extra work”? It certainly sounds like you’re asking me to exert myself with that request.”

“Barb, please,” you whine, struggling against the rope as you attempt to lean up and kiss him. There’s no way he can deny you after all of this—not when you’re in such a state. “Please. I need you.”

Your begging sounds like music to his ears, and he gives in a little—leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the sensation.

“How would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…I want your cock, this time,” you say honestly, mumbling the words embarrassedly against him. You feel bad asking. After your previous escapade, you’d gotten the feeling that Barbatos was more comfortable in pleasing others, rather than focusing on himself. After all, despite having gotten hard, he had never asked to have sex with you. He’d been content with getting you off on his fingers, and likely would have let himself remain hard without solace if you hadn’t offered to help him in return.

Barbatos pauses at your request.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable,” you quickly say, understanding painted in your eyes as you regard him. “I just…have been thinking about the possibility of having you inside of me, since last time, so—”

“If I am what you want, then I shall give you what you ask,” he interrupts, leaning in to steal another tender kiss. A quiet moan escapes you.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering otherwise.”

He cups your cheeks, peppering you with kisses, and then steps back. You watch him with rapt attention as he fiddles with his belt—working to free his cock from it’s confines. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s already hard—straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Luckily, he’s skilled with his hands. It only takes a few seconds until his length is free—his slacks and the boxer briefs beneath them resting just below his pelvis.

“We should have taken these off, if you desired this outcome,” he comments, finger looping beneath the crotch of your panties. You pout at him, but don’t bother retorting. Right now, the only thing on your mind is Barbatos putting his cock inside of you and fucking you until you cum.

Noting your hungry stare, Barbatos doesn’t bother asking permission before he moves your panties to the side, revealing your slick womanhood. Grasping his length, he guides the tip of his cock between your folds—wetting himself with your arousal. When he catches your clit, you openly moan—body flexing against the ropes holding you in place.

Barbatos can’t help but smile.

“Always so needy.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a heated groan—the demon butler sheathing himself into your heat without warning. Your sopping walls allow him to glide in easily, and the sudden stretch has your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, Barb,” you breathe his name, fixing him with the most pitiful face you can manage. You need him to move—now.

He’s more than happy to comply.

Barbatos rocks his hips back and forth gently, fucking in and out of you with care as he assures that you’re okay for him to move despite the abrupt intrusion. He feels your walls clench around him—seeking more—and he takes a deep breath at the sensation. You feel so good.

Gripping your waist, he thrusts into you with fervor. His speed increases, a blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze shifts between your blissful face, and your greedy pussy. In all his years, he’s never seen someone take his cock so beautifully.

Quick pants slipping past your lips, you instinctively tug at the rope wrapped around your wrists—accidentally spreading your legs wider as he fucks you. You can feel the strain on your thigh muscles, but right now, it’s the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way Barbatos’ cock is dragging inside of you—hitting you in all the right places.

“Please touch my clit,” you gasp, sensing your impending orgasm. You feel bad, being so close already, but you can’t help it. Barbatos’ cock throbs as he realizes how quickly you’re coming unraveled thanks to him. At this rate, he won’t last very long either.

Always happy to serve, the butler removes one hand from your waist and presses his thumb into your clit. The swift, side to side motion against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you choking on a moan—your head lolling backwards.

“Oh fuck,” you bite, the muscles in your torso tensing. Barbatos can feel your pussy tightening around him, and he clenches his jaw. Keeping his rhythm, it’s only another minute until you’re crying out his name—body spasming against the bindings as you reach the apex of your pleasure. Your pussy milks around his cock, constricting so tightly that a curse actually falls from the demon’s lips.

With a strained groan, he pulls himself from inside of you—his seed spurting against your used pussy, with a few stray droplets painting your thighs.

You’re just about to whine at the sudden loss of him when the door to the room creaks open. Immediately, you’re ejected from the bliss of your orgasm—heart hammering against your ribs and eyes flying open as you turn to see who has discovered you and Barbatos in such a compromising state.

“I actually managed to get the committee to end the meeting early, and went in search of the two of you,” the Demon Prince himself speaks, stepping inside. “When I discovered our typical spot empty, and then noticed the lack of tea in the kitchen cupboards, I thought I’d better check here. Seems I was right to.”

Diavolo chuckles as the door clicks closed behind him. He reaches up to loosen his tie, his infamous red coat nowhere to be found.

“My Lord,” Barbatos speaks, bowing. You glance down and notice that the butler has already tucked himself back into his pants—looking perfect as usual. The only hint of his recently experienced bliss is a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead, and a dust of blush on his cheeks.

Oh, and the cum that’s leaking down your skin.

The Demon Prince smiles pleasantly at his butler before his heavy golden gaze shifts to you. Instantly, you’re feeling warm all over—embarrassed beyond belief to be seen by Diavolo in such a lewd state.

Your little fling in the bath with him is one thing, but being hoisted mid-air, legs spread wide, with nowhere to hide yourself is another.

“Diav—”

“Impeccable work, as always, Barbatos,” Diavolo interrupts you. He steps into the center of the room, reaching forward to grip the strands of rope parting your breasts. He gives the harness an appreciative tug, eliciting a gasp from you. His eyes sparkle at the sound.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“I see you were a little zealous today,” he continues, eyes falling to your used pussy. Your breath catches—gaze widening in surprise as Diavolo drags his finger through a stripe of Barbatos’ cum. Behind the Prince, the butler dips his head.

“Y/N requested it of me. I would be a fool to have said no.”

“Indeed,” Diavolo chuckles, his attention never leaving you. His large hands roam across your legs—skimming over the rope where it digs into the soft flesh of your thighs. There’s an appreciative glint in his gaze as he surveys your body—beautiful and helpless thanks to Barbatos’ rope work.

“You know, Y/N,” he begins after a minute, his fingertips trailing up the length of your arms, and making you shiver. He leans down to your eye level, smiling at you handsomely. “I was a little worried, following the incident with the aphrodisiac, that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries. However, following recent events, I’m wondering if it’s not that a line was crossed, but perhaps that it’s me you’re not interested in.”

You shift your gaze to Barbatos, wondering if he had told Diavolo the outcome of the massage he’d given you a few weeks prior, but his face reveals nothing. He’s back to being the perfect butler in the presence of his Lord.

“Lord Diavolo, t-that’s—,” you swallow the lump in your throat, arousal flaring in your gut when Diavolo presses a finger beneath your chin, turning your attention back to him. “That’s not it at all. I promise.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow, waiting for you to explain. You take a shaky breath, muscles flexing beneath the bindings as your post-orgasm high begins to fade, making the bite of the rope more obvious.

“I…have wanted you—to have you, ever since that night. I just…didn’t have the guts to inquire about the possibility…I was hoping maybe you would approach me instead, and when it didn’t happen, I assumed the window of opportunity had closed.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, gently skimming his thumb across the warm flesh. “You are more than welcome to ask anything of me.”

“I want you, then. Now,” you breath, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly as you stare at him. Your words have his golden eyes darkening with hunger.

The months worth of unspoken desire fills the space between your bodies--igniting a flame in Diavolo’s blood.

“Say it again,” he commands. You strain against the bindings, wishing you could touch him.

“I want you, Lord Diavolo. Please fuck me.”

In the next beat, Diavolo is on your lips. He licks into your mouth, swallowing all of your needy little whines and moans. One of his hands moves to tangle in your hair—trapping your lips against his own—while the other finds purchase on your breast.

He slips a finger beneath the lace cup, and tugs it down without hesitation—freeing the previously covered mound. You gasp around his tongue, thighs flexing. You can feel arousal beginning to dribble down your cunt, pussy once again aching to be used and filled.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo rumbles, finally pulling back to give you air. The butler appears at the edge of your vision as you struggle to breathe. He places a hand over his heart.

“Adjust the height of the suspension, and then come here. It’s not fair of me to make you watch. Come and join.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Barbatos disappears from your field of vision, and a few moments later, you squirm as you feel yourself being hoisted higher into the air. The sensation stops when your pussy is at the same height as Diavolo’s growing bulge.

“I can’t be mad at the two of you for enjoying yourselves without me, when it acts as such good preparation,” Diavolo chuckles, two of his fingers slipping between your glistening folds. They push into your heat with little resistance, so the Prince adds a third. You feel a stretch, but it’s far from painful—a quiet moan sneaking past your lips.

He watches you with arousal swimming in his golden irises.

Leaning in to lap against the unmarred skin of your neck, Diavolo pumps his fingers in and out of you. Wet sounds fill the room along with your breathy whines, and the minute Barbatos steps up behind you—moving his hands to fondle your breasts—you let go of any remaining decency.

You throw your head back, body shaking as the two pleasure you. Groans fall from your lips, hips bucking against Diavolo’s hand. You crave him, desperate to feel your pussy stretched around his monstrous cock.

“Please,” you beg, barely able to get the word out. Diavolo shushes you with a hot breath against your neck—canines nipping at your flesh.

“Be patient,” he tells you. “One more.”

He momentarily removes his fingers from inside you before pushing back in—a fourth joining the others this time. The sensation steals your breath away—body thrashing against the bindings. You’re so stupidly horny that you don’t even care if it hurts. You need Diavolo inside of you.

“You must trust Lord Diavolo, Y/N,” Barbatos pipes up. You can feel his breath on your ear—his mouth moving to rest on the side of your neck that Diavolo isn’t currently assaulting with his lips, teeth and tongue. To accentuate his words, he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers. Your pussy clenches around the Demon Prince’s digits.

“He’s only doing this so not to hurt you.”

“I know, but—,” Diavolo cuts off your whining with a rough bite against the junction of your shoulder. You gasp at the pain, writhing, and once more he’s rewarded with your pussy gripping his fingers so deliciously. The Demon Prince’s cock throbs at the sensation, craving to be inside of you, but he knows he can’t take you as easily as others might. The last thing he wants is to break you.

…as fun as that idea may be.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises you, tongue lapping over the indentation of his teeth. A bit of blood pools in the shallow divots—the tangy red liquid making him groan deep within his chest. He pumps his fingers in and out of you for what feels like ages, continuing until there’s no resistance.

Then, finally, his digits leave you with an embarrassing squelch. You mourn the loss with a needy whine, eyes peeling open to stare at him. However, when you see Diavolo messing with his slacks—his cock springing free and standing tall against his abdomen just as you had remembered it—your protest ceases.

Instead, you’re left swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth—cunt throbbing as Diavolo presses himself back between your legs. Barbatos is by no means small with regard to dick size, but Diavolo makes taking the butler seem like child’s play.

“Remember to breathe,” The Prince tells you, tracing his length between your folds. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, and despite his warning, you feel your breath catch. Even four fingers are barely enough to prepare you to take him.

“Breathe,” Barbatos whispers against your neck, his hands moving to settle just beneath your breasts. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, and you finally suck in a shaky breath of air. Diavolo allows you a moment to ground yourself before he moves once more—managing to fully slide the head of his dick in, along with a few inches of shaft.

You see stars.

“Fuck!” your entire body shakes, pain and arousal mingling in a dangerous combination. Your chest heaves, knuckles turning white with how tightly you’re gripping the rope binding your wrists. And yet, you can’t take your eyes off the sight of Diavolo’s cock, and the way it disappears inside of you. You don’t dare look away.

Hands gripping your waist, Diavolo takes a deep breath in through his nose, and then cants his hips forward. The rest of his length stuffs inside of you—stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth—and your mind goes white.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

For a frightening second, Diavolo worries that he has injured you.

“Y/N—”

“Please please please please move!” you cry, chest heaving. You struggle against the bindings, breaking off into a desperate sob. The Demon Prince and his butler share a surprised look. Then, Diavolo is grinning, ever so slowly rocking his hips into you. Each movement assaults you with a new wave of pleasure.

“You didn’t tell me that she gets like this,” Diavolo remarks, glancing to his long-time friend. Barbatos shakes his head, his hands once more settling on your breasts. When the butler flicks his thumbs against your nipples, a muscle clenches in Diavolo’s jaw—your pussy constricting around him.

“I had no idea it was possible,” Barbatos responds, but you don’t hear their conversation. You can’t tear your gaze from the spot where Diavolo’s cock vanishes between your walls. You’ve never been so full before—so stretched--right at your breaking point.

It feels so good.

“Y/N,” Diavolo speaks your name tenderly, drawing you from your state of desperation. Your blown-out eyes turn up to him. He cups your cheek, brushing over the damp tear tracks on your skin. “What are your safe words?”

“S…Stoplight colors,” you tell him, and he nods. Leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Use them if you need to.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feeling better about your safety, Diavolo once more grips your waist, and begins fucking into your pussy with quick, smooth strokes. Each drag of his cock inside of you has you moaning—arousal rapidly building in the pit of your stomach. A part of you hopes that you’ll last long enough to cum with the Demon Prince, but when Barbatos settles his mouth against your neck—sucking at a particularly sensitive patch of flesh—you reach your climax without warning.

A cry tears from your throat. Your body spasms, pussy milking around Diavolo’s cock and hugging him so firmly that he actually snarls at the sensation. However, he doesn’t bother reprimanding you for the unprompted orgasm. No, instead he waits just long enough to allow the height of your pleasure to subside, before he begins snapping his hips into you with abandon.

Your lips part in a silent scream, Diavolo fucking you hard enough to make your tits bounce despite the upright position. As you struggle to maintain any sense of coherency, Barbatos hugs you tightly from behind, whispering quiet praises against your skin. It’s truly the only thing keeping you ground, at the moment.

“I can feel you getting tight again,” Diavolo remarks, the slightest growl in his voice, even as he chuckles. “Are you going to cum with me, Y/N?”

You shake your head violently. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

You’re convinced that another orgasm will kill you.

Diavolo glances past your shoulder, to Barbatos. The butler nods his head. Without speaking a word, Barbatos knows his Lord’s request.

Pressing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder, Barbatos lowers one of his hands between your spread legs. Two of his fingers find your clit, and you choke down a sob. You desperately attempt to convince the royals that you’re unable to cum a third time, but the way your walls continue to contract around Diavolo’s cock says otherwise.

“Cum with me, and then you can rest,” Diavolo speaks, leaning in to capture your lips. He can taste your salty tears through the kiss.

“P-please,” you struggle to breathe, blurry eyes settling on the Demon Prince as he sits back—snapping his cock inside of you particularly hard. “Please.”

“Please what?” Diavolo asks, golden eyes soaking in the sight of you absolutely falling apart for him.

“Please…,” you repeat, voice trailing off. You’ve been so adamant about your inability to orgasm again, but now—with Diavolo thrusting into you, and Barbatos’ fingers working at your clit—you’re once again on the edge of release. You sob, the sound broken.

“Please let me cum.”

Diavolo grins handsomely.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

And you’re helpless to obey, your body spasming as your third and final orgasm of the night tears through you. Your chest heaves—struggling to take in air as Diavolo fucks you through your pleasure—chasing his own bliss.

Thankfully, he comes only a few seconds behind you—seating his length fully inside of you, and stuffing you to the brim as he spills his seed between your sopping walls. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room.

You fade out of consciousness for a moment.

“You did so well, taking Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos whispers into your hair, bringing you back into reality. He presses a soft kiss to your head. You whimper at his words, exhausted, and craving more praise and comfort.

Knowing that you need to be released from the suspension, Diavolo finally pulls his softening cock from inside of you. Immediately, his cum is slipping from your used heat—dripping down your pussy, and even onto the floor at your feet.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo speaks, taking a step back. The butler nods, swiftly moving to unravel the spool of rope secured above the mantle. Soon, you find yourself on the floor, both Diavolo and Barbatos working to undo the many intricate knots and ties.

It takes a few minutes—you whining and begging for affection the entire time—but finally the two free you from your bindings. As you move your limbs around, you can feel blood rushing back into certain areas of your body.

You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. For many reasons.

“You did beautifully,” Diavolo whispers as he scoops you into his arms. He moves to settle on the couch, cradling you in his lap. He brushes a few stray hands of hair out of your face, smiling when you reach up and cup his cheeks—tugging him into a kiss.

“I’m seeing many new sides of you today,” he remarks with a chuckle. You lean back, tiredly pouting at him.

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been fully tied up, suspended, and fucked by both a Demon Prince, and his butler, so.”

“That would explain it.”

He grins wider, a fond look in his eyes as he dips down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he does so Barbatos kneels at your side. There’s a pleasant smile on his face, his now-gloved hands gingerly trailing against your legs—dipping into the shallow marks left by the rope.

“How are you feeling?” he questions. His voice is tender, full of concern.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sore, and tired, but…I feel good.” You extend your arm—fingertips trailing against his jaw. Barbatos leans into the feeling, cupping your hand with his own. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me. Even though you may have exerted yourselves more, rather than relaxing tonight, like I was hoping you would do…”

“I can’t speak for Barbatos, but personally, I feel much better now,” Diavolo pipes up. The butler nods in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Yes, I agree. I feel quite relaxed.”

You roll your eyes at them, breathing a laugh.

“If you say so.”

The royals share a laugh as well.

“You need to rehydrate. Shall I fetch us some beverages?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Barbatos. It’s unfortunate we’re out of tea.”

The butler presses to his feet, bowing minutely. “It is. I will be sure to restock the pantry soon.”

He turns, heading towards the door, but your voice stops him.

“Wait--,” you speak, noting a clock on the wall nearby. It’s already past 11. “—It’s getting late. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know you still have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I would think that Lucifer and his brothers will be concerned, should you return home in your current state,” Barbatos comments, and you pause, glancing down at yourself. You’re covered in rope markings all over your body, not to mention the hickies and bite marks now littering your neck. On top of that, you’re still not even sure if you can properly move on your own, let alone walk.

“I…”

“I was going to ask you to stay with us,” Diavolo pipes up, smiling at you. “If you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’d prefer to have you close tonight.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you can’t deny how appealing it sounds—spending the night in Diavolo’s arms. Especially considering how he’d just ruined you.

“Okay,” you concede.

“Good!”

You gasp as Diavolo presses to his feet, still securely holding you in his arms. “In that case, please bring the beverages to my chambers, Barbatos.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The butler then disappears from the room. Diavolo follows him out, but not before tossing a handily available blanket atop your naked form. Your grip at the soft fabric, pouting as you watch your cute dress get left behind on the messy, rope covered floor.

“My dress…”

“Barbatos will likely return and clean up before the night ends. I’m sure it will be returned to you by morning,” Diavolo reassures you. You curl your hand into the dark fabric of his shirt, glancing up at him.

“That’s still more work for him…”

“You need to stop worrying about us,” he scolds you, giving you a light squeeze. You knock your forehead against his chest.

“It’s hard. I want you both to stop being so busy.”

“Soon,” he reassures you with a chuckle, and you feel his lips press into the crown of your hair. “Then we’ll go back to having Sunday tea.”

Perfect.

That night, you pass out tucked against Diavolo’s broad chest, before Barbatos ever appears with the drinks. At some point, a wet cloth drags between your legs, and a straw is placed between your lips, but you’re too exhausted to remember anything more than that. All you know is that when you wake up the next morning, Diavolo is gone, your bladder is full, and there’s a note on the nightstand addressed to you.

It’s Barbatos’ handwriting.

Y/N,

Lord Diavolo would like to apologize for being unable to keep you company this morning. We promise to make it up to you at a later time.

Your dress, along with vitamins, and other health supplements that will help you should you be ailing from the excitement of last night, are at the foot of the bed.

Blinking, you look down and realize that indeed your dress is folded neatly at your feet--a small gift bag beside it. But there’s no way you’ll need such medicine, right?

Slowly, you press to your feet, and immediately groan. Yep, everything is sore. You’ve never felt so achy all over.

Lucifer is here for a meeting. He will walk you home at 9am, once it is finished. Please meet him at the front doors.

If there’s anything else you need, please let myself, or Lord Diavolo know.

- Barbatos

You note that your DDD has been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the note.

Clicking the phone screen to life—you pause.

It’s already 8:50.

“Shit!”

You rush to prepare yourself—dressing haphazardly, and running through the halls of the castle in order to meet Lucifer on time. You arrive at the front doors to find him waiting for you. He cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your current outfit. You’re adorning the dress you’d worn the day before, but beneath it, you’re also wearing a white turtleneck.

How curious.

“…did you enjoy your stay?”

There’s an amused look on his face—one that tells you he won’t be fooled by whatever excuse you decide to try and come up with. So, you settle for giving him an honest response.

“I did.”

And you can’t wait until your next one.

#if u liked plz come yell at me uwu #om!#obey me #barbatos #diavolo #obey me smut #obey me fic #barbatos smut #diavolo smut #obey me swd #diavolo fic #barbatos fic #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader

963 notes · View notes