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#but I FINALLY finished a oneshot
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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | My Queen
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader
Plot: The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there’s a willing soldier at your disposal.
Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.
Words: 4OOO
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“There are guests, Your Majesty,” John tells you with pity in his voice, not mentioning it because he thinks you have forgotten, but because he needs you to be aware of the important fact. If you tried hard enough, it wasn’t too much of a task to remember your duties and who those entailed, but it was a relief to have John around to remind you of such things, since you valued your duties and relations with the outside world dearly.
You glance around nervously and give him a guilty pout, grabbing the last of your belongings.
“I know, I am so sorry, but this is important. Send them a plane and I will get back to them as soon as I can,” you plead and quickly rush out of the room to the main entrance hall, John following you as you make your way to the prepared jet.
Mind occupied by making sure your small legion is armed and ready to go as you walk, you get brought to an abrupt stop when two large men block your path. Raising your head, you glower curiously at the rude interruption. As busy as you have been the past weeks, you study each and every encounter you plan, so you know exactly who the two men are.
“Captain Wilson. Sergeant Barnes.”
“Your Majesty,” Sam’s greeting is curt, yet kind. “I don’t suppose a sudden departure is part of your infamous warm welcome?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You have an awful lot of courage speaking to a queen this way,” you warn him, your tone formal before your features soften towards your guests. “But I apologise. Something important came up and I hardly think sending you into war with me is considered a warm welcome.”
The man you recognise as James Barnes lets out a humoured scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know us very well.”
Your eyes dart between the men suspiciously and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, hardly able to contain it at the sheer boldness coming from the men. After a pregnant pause and your legion having left the hall to board the jet, you slowly turn to John.
“John. You heard the men. Get them suited and onto the jet.” Sharing one more glance with the men, your eyes lingering on the twinkle of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, you brush past them and step onto the plane without another word.
“It’s not often a queen goes into war with her people.”
“Well, unfortunately my legions are struggling on their own,” you explain to Sam calmly.
“What happened?” Bucky asks, brows pulled together in slight worry.
“John? Could you please bring them up to speed while I get ready?”
As John takes over and shows the two heroes what their next mission will be as they serve someone else’s queen, you step over to the side and let one of your generals help you suit up. Slipping into the modern metal, rusted with nano technology, the shimmering suit glides over your body perfectly.
From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky Barnes losing interest from John’s briefing and your eyes lock with his. There’s a rush of heat pulsing through your body at the sheer boldness of Bucky not breaking eye contact once he gets caught staring. His eyes rake up and down the sleek suit and lock back onto yours, a knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth before he drags his eyes away and turns back to his previous conversation.
Leaving you absolutely flustered and furious.
Did he just ogle a queen?
Bucky is startled enough for it to nearly show on his face when he sees the feral look you have on yours. He knows that look, has worn it plenty of times himself. Battle doesn’t quite leave your body and mind as soon as it is over. Even with your spectacular win, which Bucky knows is mostly because of your reliability and skills as a powerful leader, the raging chaos of adrenaline lingers like you have days worth of battles to fight still.
He came in to check up on you post-battle, easily slipping past your guards, to find you pacing in your blood-splattered gear around the chamber before what he assumes is your bedroom. The hall is large and decorated wonderfully, but so very empty with your restless figure pacing through it. He’s certain he can feel your energy buzzing all the way up to the impossibly high ceilings.
Having enough decency to announce himself, he gently knocks on the door from inside of the room. When you whirl towards him in your frenzy, he finds it amusing enough to plaster a smirk onto his face. “Restless, my queen?”
You huff through your nostrils. “I still have fight in me.” He knows. “I want to kill them for springing that attack on us.” He knows that too, but the gravel in your voice awakens a slumbering beast inside of him and fire starts curling around his bones.
“I think you gave them enough hell for what they did to you,” he assures you and something in your eyes seems to soften at that. You did give them hell. Rightfully so.
“But this energy–” You shake out your trembling hands to rid yourself of that restlessness. Bucky nods and slowly prowls closer, hands gliding into his pockets as he slants his head to the side to observe you.
“I know,” he acknowledges, “it takes a while to wear off.”
“How do you handle it?” you ask him, taking a steadying breath as he crosses the room. “After a fight, how do you get rid of all of that energy?”
Bucky flashes you a grin, his brows raising with intrigue and a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. “I hardly think I could speak about such methods to a sophisticated queen.”
“Sophisticated, my ass,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the broad soldier. “You hardly felt like you had to be appropriate when you were watching me put on this suit,” you say with a scoff, ushering to the intricate metals you’re wearing.
“In my defence, I hadn’t seen you fight yet. Whereas now,” he shrugs, “I’d prefer staying in your good graces.”
“You fuck it out, don’t you?”
Bucky’s blink is the only sign of his surprise and he cocks his head at you again. “Excuse me?”
“The only way to get rid of the energy after battle is to get your dick wet,” you clarify, “isn’t it?”
Bucky chokes on a laugh, stepping even closer to you now with his hands still in his pockets, close enough to make you have to tilt your chin up. “You have a filthy mouth for a queen,” he breathes and to accentuate his words, his eyes drop to said mouth.
“I didn’t become queen by being prim and proper,” you explain with a little less fire than you intended to say it with.
“No,” he breathes, “you didn’t.”
Another restless shudder up your spine reminds you of your predicament, your thudding heartbeat not coming to a rest. You sigh, searching those blue eyes still trained on your lips. “Care to help a queen out?”
“You want to see me bow for you again, don’t you?” He smirks and finally raises his eyes to meet yours.
You can’t help but smile slightly, giving him a guilty shrug, because yes, you loved seeing him bow for you earlier as you stepped onto the battlefield. Not just that, plenty of pretty men had bowed for you. It was Bucky’s willingness and respect as he took a knee for you that was particularly invigorating. He matches your smile and takes a long second to let you take in what he is about to do, before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you, steady hands moving to rest on your thighs.
“Your people are awfully lucky to get to serve you every day,” he murmurs, looking up at you with eyes of fire and submission. That manages to make heat surge to your cheeks and ears, swallowing hard as you take in the sight before you. “May I?”
It takes all of your power not to nod too eagerly before he starts working off the buckles and belts of your suit, the nanotechnology wingmanning perfectly as the metal retreats into the hard base of the suit.
Soon, you are in nothing but your underwear. Bones and muscles are trembling beneath your skin in response to forcing your body to be utterly still. Chemical reactions are ricocheting against the barrier of your skin to make you spring apart. So much energy. So much fire and passion and fury still roiling inside of you. A heavy blanket settles over it – desire. But before you can order him to act on it, Bucky comes back to a stand.
“Close your eyes,” he mutters.
“I’m close to fighting you, Sergeant Barnes,” you promise him, showing your active restraint, but deciding to close your eyes anyway.
He huffs a soft laugh and you feel his eyes burning into your skin, a knuckle brazenly trailing over your collarbones and down the centre of your chest. “I will take you up on that another day,” he answers and your blood heats up at the fact that Bucky revels in both of those sides of you. Most men cower at your bloodlust, but not him. He kneels before it.
Speaking of him kneeling–
“I didn’t tell you to get up,” you remind him and his hand pauses.
“I didn’t particularly think it would be fair to leave you standing as I proceed to immobilise your legs, my queen,” he drawls and you snap your mouth shut. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you find him having taken a step back, holding out his hand for you to take.
Carefully taking it with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky leads you to your bedroom like he has been there a thousand times. Slowly and deliberately, he guides you to your own bed, still fully clothed himself in those black leathers.
“I expected it to be more rough,” you admit steadily. “Fucking out that energy...”
Bucky turns back to you, hands now on your waist as he pivots you with your back to the bed, the backs on your legs touching the foot of it. “Fucking you roughly won’t do the trick,” he explains. “Fucking you thoroughly will.”
If you weren’t quaking before, this would do the trick. Your heartbeat is pulsing between your legs, hammering for attention, the seams of your underwear teasing you more than the man before you. It paralyses you, that desire coursing through your veins like syrup, makes you fall quiet. Only for a short while.
“Then do it.”
Bucky’s brows raise again, not having expected you to fold so fast. “What?”
“Did I fucking stutter?” you hiss at him. “I need you to fuck me before I explode.”
Bucky smirks at you again and you’re so tempted to smother that smirk – you have your ways. “I am not yours to give orders to.”
You restrain from rolling your eyes at him, the close proximity making you prone to holding your breath and making your words coming out strained. “I’m not going to beg for it.”
“You already have,” he reminds you, not an inch of him giving away that he might be unravelling. “And I think you will, sweetheart. I think you are seconds away from begging for it.”
As if in answer to his outrageous insinuation, a shudder racks through your bones and flashes of that wild battle make your nervous system rush to life again. It’s so frustrating, to have so much energy begging to be released.
His solid eyes and steady hands on your waist make you want to sink into him for relief. You want Bucky to tear you apart, almost similar to the way he tore apart those monsters earlier. Calculated, precise and only slightly unhinged. His fighting earlier was like a choreography your body wanted to study and practice until it can memorise nothing else. The way his muscles moved, the precise strikes of his metal arm, the focused crinkles in his handsome face, his thick thighs planting him firmly onto the ground – your ground. Fighting for your lands. For you.
My queen, he had called you. You suppose he does answer to your commands, then. But you might just beg for it. If only because it feels so tempting. To whine for his pleasure, sob for it and make him serve you like he wanted to do earlier. How awful, for a queen to want to beg for it.
“Please,” you almost gasp from holding your breath for too long.
He hums, low and deadly, his finger kneading gently and appreciatively into your soft flesh. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and before you can shout in outrage, he slowly dips down and presses his pillowy soft lips to your collarbone, instantly making your head tilt backwards.
His hands pull you close enough for your front to be pressed to his and your hands automatically grab his shoulders. His lips part and his tongue traces a singular line over the thinnest piece of skin on your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth moves up, tongue dipping in and out to raise your pulse as he suckles at your skin. Your fingers curl slightly and your body starts to nearly shake with jitters at the adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical charge.
Bucky bites down on the tense skin beneath your ear where he hums against you, the sound ringing in your head like a gong. His hands have travelled to your back, stroking up and down the bare skin until your bra pops loose with you barely noticing. You tremble with need when all you are left in are your panties and Bucky pulls away to once again sink down to his knees.
You swallow hard at his stare from below you and follow his silent command to sit down at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands around your knees, he presses them apart and lifts one leg over his shoulder. Your fingers dig into the soft sheets with anticipation and you only break the intense eye contact to watch his tongue trace his bottom lip. He hooks your other leg over his shoulder and drags you to the very edge of the bed, getting comfortable on his knees.
“Is this where you want me?” he asks, but you don’t deign to answer him. “Kneeling before my queen.”
“Something tells me you don’t mind being there at all,” you answer tightly and his hands stroke up and down your calves lovingly. Bucky presses one kiss to your inner thighs, taking in a big whiff of air and groaning at the smell of your arousal.
“There is something about eating a meal on my knees that speaks to me,” he drawls, his eyes settling on said meal, only covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He presses another kiss, right over the damp fabric. You shudder.
“Then eat,” you bite back, scrambling to hang onto your power as a queen.
Bucky gives a wide grin, keeping his eyes on your soaking core. His hand lifts and his finger loops into the fabric, making you bite your lip painfully hard at the brief touch. He pulls the fabric to the side, spreading your legs enough for him to dive in, but not doing so yet. “That is no way to speak to your soldiers.”
Your soldier, Bucky supposes after today he is. You’re torture. Your smell, your voice, your body, the sheer power you have over him – over everyone.
Your hand finds his hair and you rake your fingers through the thick, brown tresses. Your eyes are soft when Bucky looks up to find them. “Will you take the honour of being my soldier?”
You’re genuine, he’s sure of it. Bucky can tell you’re asking him for so much more than just this. And considering his current predicament, he will consider his duties as your soldier later. Right now, he can only nod, entranced by the queen who has her legs wrapped around his head. He can only think of one duty right now and that is to rid you of all of that devastating warrior energy the only way he knows how.
Bucky buries his face between your legs and begins his feasting. Nudging his nose against your clit and prodding his tongue in and out of you. Licking every inch of your warm, wet, lovely cunt as if it’ll guarantee a place in your kingdom for him.
Sam will kill him for never returning home, but by the heavens, he can’t find it in him to care enough. Not with you tasting so heavenly and– fuck, those goddamn moans.
He was right, he was so fucking right. The slow and steady and longs thrusts make your body hiss in delight. The thorough swivel of his hips when he’s buried into you as far as possible, releases every bit of pent up energy that suffocates you. The sharp snap of his hips right as he’s about to hit home makes you shudder and sob, clenching around him every time as if you feel every thrust like the very first one.
Bucky strikes your deepest spot with each one, your hair between his fingers, your back arched to meet him and your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your eyes flutter painfully against your will, your toes curling when pleasure wraps around every abdominal muscle, your pussy spasming around him in need for release as the pressure between your hips grows to be unbearable.
The sounds that slip from your parted mouth sound inhumane. Soft and pitiful whimpers between huffs of breath. Oh God, oh God. You need him to slow down for a second, except he’s not going fast at all. He’s slow and deep and oh God, he’s so fucking deep.
You grapple for a grip in the sheets, any tether to reality slipping from your mind after every move he has already made. The last of your control, your power as a queen, slips away from you on a phantom wind, desire clouding every piece of domination inside of you. It’s all his now, you are all his now.
Within a short second, you get hauled up by your hair, arched against his heaving, sweaty chest until his mouth nips at your earlobe. Your hands grab his hips behind you, nails digging into his firm skin.
“You still there, my queen?” he coos, and you feel his grin as his mouth grazes over your neck possessively. Your answer is the harsh tightening of your nails into him and the groan he lets out makes you clench around him wantonly. “Oh, somewhere. You’re somewhere in that sex-riddled brain of yours. Losing your mind a little, are you?”
You swear you mean to speak a sentence – a word, at least – but the sound that comes out sounds like another garbled moan and Bucky laughs at your demise. He quickly presses a loving kiss to your shoulder, a deep thrust settling him so deep inside of you, you flutter helplessly around him.
“Don’t worry,” he hums, another deep thrust following as the hand in your hair slips to securely grip your throat and move your ear back to his mouth. “Next time, I will let you take the reigns. You can tie me to the bed and use me to make yourself come. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” You pulse around him and he snickers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Prefer to have control and use the ones that serve you.” He bites your ear softly and squeezes your throat. “Oh, but you look so pretty like this. Don’t take this away from me, sweetheart.”
It's a whirlwind of emotions that rush through you at his words. You feel his desperation to have you like this seep through his ignorant confidence having you exactly like he wants you. The last of your working brain cells are screaming yes, yes, yes at his request. You’ll let him have you like this every day for the rest of your life. And it flashes before your eyes, him waking you up by slowly fucking you, hand back in your hair and lazy mouth muttering filthy things against your skin. God, he’s filthy.
Your vision is swirling as his pace picks up and blood flow to your brain is slightly limited by his grip. Ecstasy is rushing through your head and limbs with heavy tingles, and your moans raise in pitch. The metal hand bruising your hips with its possessive grip, slides between your legs and messily toys with your clit, the feeling making you want to buckle over.
“Shit!” you gasp and throw your head back into his shoulder, thighs quaking at the stimulation. Too much, it’s too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every inch of him glide in and out of you with an ease and precision that feels degrading and embarrassing. Bucky’s breath is equally laboured now and his grip on you turns from possessive to desperate, like he cannot get enough of you into his hands.
“Come for me again, my queen,” he purrs in your ear, knowing what that term now does to you, and you nod blindly. Following his command blindly, unable to resist the feeling of his deep thrusts and his firm circles on your clit any longer, you let the warmth of your orgasm consume you. You tremble and shake and stiffen at his touch and he doesn’t stop. “Come on, keep coming. Keep fucking coming, baby.”
You choke out a sob, surely drawing blood with your nails as you gasp for air, for any word to make him ease up on you, but he only stops when you buckle over and your trembling form succumbs to the sheets below you. Curled up on the sheets, bearing the waves of pleasure that haunt your every nerve, you feel Bucky’s exhausted and sex-glazed eyes watching you carefully. You faintly feel the trickle of him come pulsing out of you and it nearly makes you smile.
Two hands, one scorching with heat and one a welcome cool, gently stroke up the sides of your thighs, cooing sounds coming from Bucky as he watches you come back to your senses. Lips follow his soothing touches, warm kisses being pressed to your quickly cooling skin.
“How’s that post-fight energy?” he asks softly and your eyes finally flutter open to meet his curious ones, the blue shimmering with… Pride.
“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”
He laughs, “Again?”
You breathe a soft laugh and he at last presses a kiss to your lips. If you had the energy, you know your body would betray you by lifting your head to chase his lips.
You finally let out a defeated sigh, letting the corners of your mouth lift to a lazy smile. “Thank you.”
“At your disposal,” he mutters back with slight amusement and you open your eyes again to look at him. God, he’s beautiful.
“Are you,” you dare to ask, earnest in your eyes, “at my disposal…?”
“It would be an honour.”
“Likewise.”
“That is more than I’ve ever had before.”
“The honour?”
He nods. And then leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as your eyes flutter closed again, goosebumps rising over your skin. “I will bow for you any day,” he breathes softly, “my queen.”
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koostarcandy · 1 year
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whole damn world
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summary: a night where jungkook and you just can't fall asleep. ensue the cutest night you've ever had, including karaoke, chicken, watching modern family and loving on your adorable son.
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: fluff, fluff and fluff.
wc: 923 words (issa baby 🤕)
a/n: guess who's gonna drop this and then pull a jungkook :]
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"you're just fake snoring now, it doesn't even help!"
"i counted 837 sheep, sprayed our pillow mist and even played the dreamy lofi playlist we made and it got over. i have to resort to other measures, sweetheart."
you gasp, sitting up and throwing off the comforter, suddenly running to the living room. jungkook's tired brain short circuits, glancing around the room to see if you running wasn't something he dreamt of.
"baby?" he throws on a tshirt and quickly follows after you, "why are you running? did we miss an episode or something?"
"you said we tried everything but you forgot one thing, silly!" your eyes look akin to those of a detective who's pieced a puzzle they've been chasing to solve, fingers rapidly flying over your keyboard. he watches you in amusement and adoration, settling behind you and wrapping his arms around you. his eyes match yours now when he finds you ordering chicken from his new favourite restaurant.
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"damn," jungkook lets out, "soy garlic chicken supremacy, okay?" he says aggressively and cutely, you note, his furrowed eyebrows letting you know that he was finishing the box, even if the moon laid to rest and the sun came up to start its daily duties. you're absentmindedly tracing the clock tattoo on his upper arm, midnight chicken and beer getting you quiet and sentimental.
your human pillow notices the comfortable silence from you, starry eyes following gloria delgado's rant about how the men in her family don't talk to her. "can see and feel you staring, koo." you turn your head to his side, lips lifted up at his adoring attention, eyes still focused on the tv. jungkook removes his gloves, downing the last of his beer. he nuzzles your neck, taking your homey and comforting scent. he pulls you impossibly closer, scattering kisses on your neck, tracing up to your cheeks. your eyes finally fall on his, peeking through his long bangs. its at level 3 now, you remind him proudly everyday, tying tiny braids and squishing his cheeks for your weekly change of wallpaper.
"you wanna play with my hair, don't you?" jungkook reads your mind, smiling when you nod sheepishly, already taking out the silk scrunchie which was holding his hair back in a sprout. he sits in between your legs, settling in comfortably. this is one of your favourite activities, carding your fingers through his soft and silky hair, watching the curls bounce when you brush through them.
you have nothing particular bothering you today, watching him grab the remote and shift to youtube, pulling up the karaoke version of dreamers, "lemme put on a show, baby, just for you," he says sincerely, getting up and letting bam sit on your lap now. he waits for the song to start, laughing when he looks at you looking unbelievably small behind bam.
you both never fail to cheer him on, giving him song requests and watching bam run around him, keeping up with his intense choreography. jungkook dramatically falls on you, giggling at your open mouth, mind still stuck on his sudden cover of unholy. "cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" you punch his arm weakly, "you've had too much to drink tonight, honey," you retort back, laughing at your equally weak attempt to get him back. he straddles your lap, letting himself fall on you like a weighted blanket. and he's your favourite type, made of love and cosy comfort.
you look down on him, the beer chugging finally catching up with him, his droopy eyes catching yours. "hi, my love," he giggles, turning his head to find bam nosing him, "and hello, my bamie!" he sits up slightly so he could shower the pup with kisses, booping his brown nose with his finger.
you watch the interaction with endeared eyes, finding your day incomplete without seeing the both of them, happy and content. you weren't planning on crying tonight, it wasn't in today's plot of your unusual night and you certainly didn't expect tears to fall down like waterfalls down your cheeks when you hear jungkook say, "you both are part of the most important people in my life, never forget that, okay?"
you immediately lift your arm to cover your eyes, sniffling and crying like your husband just returned from war. said husband from war is on you in an instant, holding your face tenderly. "i didn't mean to make you cry," he says, leaning his forehead on yours and willing himself to not cry. "happy tears, koo, we're fine," you reassure him, pulling back to place a kiss on his lips. you push his hair back from his forehead, tying his hair in a loose ponytail. his eyes trace your feature with starry fondness, pulling your neck so you're looking at him again.
jungkook sighs, making you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. he kisses you tenderly, leaving another one on your forehead.
"bamie, house, it's late and i just remembered we have to go to the doc's, so sleepy time, okay?" he says firmly yet gently, giving the doberman a forehead kiss. he doesn't go until he gets his customary forehead pat from you, which you lovingly give him promptly.
"he knocked out quickly," jungkook says quietly, getting up and settling on the couch. he pulls you up so you're on his lap now, nosing his way to your neck and sighing in content. "he got that from me," you say, giggling when you get a playful glare and apologizing half-heartedly, squishing his cheeks in retaliation when he starts tickling you.
jungkook holds your waist, making you go still, "god," he breathes, "how is it that when i look at you, i see the whole damn world?"
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pt time: @armys-dna ; @junsai-tree ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @jinsquishes ; @cherishoshi ; @fragmentof-indifference ; @indgio ; @jjkeverlast ; @parkdatjimin ; @yoogijk ; @starlight-1010
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abandonedpie · 7 months
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A place to relax
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lilfriezatyrant · 1 month
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As the evening draws to a close, you listen to the last nightly broadcast of the radio demon, who also resides in the hotel. It's as if he has rehearsed a lullaby just for you, because it doesn't take long for your eyes to get heavier and heavier and you finally fall into a quick slumber.
"We'll meet again,
Don't know where,
Don't know when,
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."
But then in the middle of the night, quite subconsciously, a steady goose bump slowly spreads over your body, starting on your arms, along your upper body, your scalp, your back and finally ending on your lower legs.
A strong cold shiver hits your palm and you abruptly open your eyes, observing your own hand dangling just outside the bed. Maybe it's just that your blood circulation has been disrupted and cut off by the perceived heaviness of your hand, because you can no longer even feel your fingers. A feeling that you actually have very often when you get into this sleeping position...
You now try to lift your arm to position yourself differently, but you realize that this is not possible... as if there is an additional weight chained to it.
What the...?
With a perplexed expression on your face, you crawl to the side, look directly at your hand, but you can only make out the silhouette and widen your eyes even more in a confused reaction. Something... stuck to the palm of your hand?
Oh god...hopefully it wasn't Niffty causing a bug battlefield in your room again and you might be bathing your fingers in their slimy little guts.
But wait...the little demonic maid always cleans all the rooms very meticulously...so it makes no sense at all.
Or...was it even a small, shelly minion of Sir Pentious that you accidentally smashed in your deep sleep while turning around? Sounds brutal, but those egg boys are unfortunately more fragile than they look.
...strange thoughts when you've just woken up. And it doesn't feel like egg yolk either.
You then feel this now volatile substance get caught between your fingers and you react instinctively, but with your other hand, which doesn't seem numb and first turns on the small bedside lamp on the little shelf within reach.
It's only a weak, dimmed light, but at least you can now see what's on your other hand.
...a black, visible, umbrageous hand clasps yours and you can feel the cold grip more than clearly.
You immediately realize who it is; after all, there is only one person in this hotel who can summon a shadowy apparition.
Still, you wonder what his shadow is doing here; you're used to it accompanying you from time to time, but it's the middle of the night and you're not in any danger...right?
"Is...um...everything all right? Or why is Alastor's dark companion visiting me?" your voice asks in a somewhat timid manner and in the next moment your hand is pushed further and further upwards and you can only watch silently as the shadow rises more. As if it were passing the ground without any resistance.
(Admittedly, it was very cute to watch as the two shadowy ears appeared on the ground first.)
It is now right next to the bed and only now do you realize how tall it actually is, both the shadow and its owner (and this has nothing to do with your current reclining position.) He towers over most demons, after all.
You can now see the outline of the eyes and mouth clearly and are greeted with a mischievous smile, it continues to hold your hand in its, giving the back of your hand a charming, fleeting kiss that sends an even colder shiver through your body, but it feels warm at the same time...like an icy fire.
Your cheeks flush as the silhouette briefly pats the back of your hand with its other hand, which is probably meant to serve as some sort of reassurance.
"Why are you here? Did you just come to check on me...?" you don't really understand. And why did he only send his shadow here?
Maybe it was just a little scouting to see if everything is really okay.
Although you know that the shadow has no voice and will only answer non-verbally, it would seem strange not to ask any questions. After all, you've known the cunning overlord's silent companion long enough to be able to read its reactions.
But his next action came so unexpectedly and in a flash: both hands are pinned next to your head and the lower end of the shadow, which now has a tail instead of legs, had darted around your legs.
"W-what...", but the quiet presence forbids you any further words and places an index finger over your mouth with a deliberate touch.
A cool tingling sensation is also placed on your lips.
Your tiredness is conjured away and it's not just because of the cold contact that the shadow causes... it is as close to you as your own shadow. Even closer.
It feels as if it is constantly seeking you out and is your protective companion.
Even back then, when you were shopping alone in the city, you were never really alone, you always had a secretly defending and watchful guardian at your side.
And at this very moment, the creature seems to be studying you curiously, this time he is not just a silent observer.
It is so close to your face that you can even feel its cool but fresh breath. Like fresh rain... that's how you feel the pleasant scent. Perhaps even a mixture of rain and snow.
"Are you on patrol or are you here voluntarily?“ Your voice remains quiet, almost a whisper, but your lips are once again sealed with a single finger. Either he doesn't want to answer that, or you really shouldn't ask any more questions.
The shadowy figure's permanent grin forms into a much larger and more malicious one. Both wrists are firmly in its grip again and without warning it presses its mouth directly onto yours.
The moment stands still for you, your eyes are dilated, your pupils are trembling in your iris.
Completely surprised, you can only manage a subtle gasp, but the shadow detaches itself again, mimics a giggling reaction with its facial expressions and finally widens one more eye curiously.
But before you could realize that it was actually a kiss, the silent shape doesn't hesitate and reconnects its shadowy mouth with your lips.
Although your chest fills more with cold, your face feels extraordinarily warm...it resembles a paradoxical supernaturalism...
Your eyes close slowly as it interlocks its obscure fingers with yours. And even if this being has a shadowy appearance, you can still feel material... as if it wants to be felt.
You intuitively squeeze your fingers together more, embrace this coldness more and more and don't want to let go of it. The shadow shows the same reaction, pulling you more into its grip and making the initially fleeting kiss more intense. And it seems to be learning with every passing second. Also that you need air to breathe again after a short time.
The shadow's head tilts to the side, secretly wondering why you're gasping for air so exhausted, before it finally understands and holds both hands in front of its mouth with a silenced cackling.
"Oh...of course you…think it's funny."
You're still panting, trying to normalize your breathing again, but blush even more when you say to your guest quietly:
"But...it was very nice..."
The shadow's chuckling gesture dies down again and its curiosity seems to have been reawakened.
Once again, it pins your hands against the sheet, very slowly dedicates his face to your right, open palm, gives the inner surface a discreet but nonetheless prolonged kiss before drawing a heart-shaped outline with his ghostly index finger.
Your face probably couldn't get any redder... You wonder if these are his true feelings? Does the shadow reflect this...?
Its fingers interlock with yours once more, humanly delicate.
As you swallow, it watches your throat closely and its curiosity is still piqued.
You wonder what it is going to do next, but you feel as if your own voice is stuck in your throat as you can't utter a word. Embarrassment envelops you and it is such an unfamiliar atmosphere for you, what this apparition has drawn you into. But it doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, quite the opposite is the case.
You simply accept the offer, or rather the dark creature's thirsty curiousness.
When you feel the touch of its lips on your neck, you flinch for a moment, but then let out a very light, pleasurable hum and instinctively stretch your neck even further to give its touch more surface area. For a brief moment, you can even feel its grin on your skin become even more distorted in amusement. And like a curious child, it even licks it with its shadowy tongue, nibbling gently, before something in it is awakened and it even bites into it.
Hard.
Too hard.
With a sharp pain that makes your whole body twitch and you let out a pained scream.
"AH! What the hell...!"
The shadow then straightens up immediately, but remains on your body, strokes the wound with an angular finger and guides it into its jaw. He tastes the sanguine essence and seems to be thinking about how he could make up for it.
You now place a hand on the wound yourself, which fortunately is not particularly large, but you still seem more startled than frightened, although it could have torn out more than just a scrap of flesh...
Next time, be a little more gentle. These words remain in your thoughts, however, as the shadow approaches you again and slides its tongue over the maltreated area to indirectly send an apologize to you.
"Do I really look like a snack to you?" you have to giggle sheepishly at this and feel more warmth return to your body as it places one palm in yours again, drawing further gentle heart shapes. If that really was an accident then it's already forgotten. Although your neck continues to throb with pain, all the gestures the shadow makes compensate for this mishap.
But time seems to have already passed when the door to your room opens and you look in the same direction as the shadow and two glowing red eyes stare at both of you, along with a radiant, ominous set of bared teeth. A voice rings out, echoing throughout the room and radio waves laced in the sound.
"Did we go astray again, didn't we?"
Is it just your imagination, or can't you see a small trace of blood on the mouth of the gentleman who suddenly appeared? Exactly the same trace of blood that his shadow shares.
Your blood.
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zaphiregz · 9 months
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Inspired in the Oneshot “Fatherly Care” from @lilfriezatyrant .
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birdcatt · 1 year
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i wonder how niko's doing, 7 years later
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stellarrev-artblog · 27 days
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post-Solstice, Solstice trio
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"we like each other" - lukadrien oneshot
(this is a lot longer than i meant for it to be but i hope you enjoy)
adrien! wait!" luka had no idea how he got into this situation. one minute he was talking with his sister on their houseboat and the next he was chasing his friend down the streets of paris.
adrien seemed to pick up speed with every few seconds that passed. oh how luka wished he participated in a sport of some kind.
"please, adrien! stop! please!" luka yelled in his friend's direction. he tried his hardest to catch up but eventually became too winded to continue. adrien turned a corner and disappeared behind a random store. luka slowed to a stop and tried to catch his breath.
what was going on? why was adrien running away? luka tried to think back to the conversation he had with juleka, in case adrien heard something that sent him on his way. nothing came to mind.
he pulled out his phone and shot a few texts to adrien, telling him that he was sorry for whatever adrien heard and that he hoped he would tell him what he and juleka did wrong.
he retraced his steps back to his boat. once he got on deck, he ignored his mom calling out to him for dinner prep and made his way to his room. he plopped down on his bed and tried to find answer which posed to be very hard without knowing adrien's thoughts.
luka snatched up his guitar and attempted to strum his way through the problem. he didn't know why it bothered him so much. obviously, adrien didn't want anyone to know what was bothering him but luka couldn't help but think that it was all his fault.
ten minutes later, a tap on his window caused luka to jump slightly. he snapped his head towards the sound to see cat noir peering in.
"you gonna let me in, guitar boy?" the cat-themed hero joked. luka stood and opened the window, still confused as to what was going on. cat noir leaped through the small circle gracefully and landed on the bedroom floor in a cat-like pose.
"what are you doing here, cat noir?" luka's voice was low and barely above a whisper. cat noir stood up and shrugged.
"i don't really know. i heard you were the one to go to when stricken with turmoil,"
"i guess i am," luka chuckled. he could've sworn he'd seen a slight blush form on the hero's face but he decided to chalk it up to the odd lighting in his room. "what seems to be the problem, cat noir?"
"well," cat noir started, "i heard...ladybug and...rena rouge, yeah that's right, talking about me, possibly maybe, and i'm just feeling insecure."
luka raised his eyebrow at the story. it didn't sound like cat noir was saying something that really happened. he noticed the way he seemed to search for his words even more than a normal person stumbling over their words would.
he let it go, "and what did they say?"
"i don't really know, they didn't say my name at all, but i just felt like their words were towards me."
"and how did you hear these words?" luka furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought.
"i, um, you're not gonna judge me right?" the hero's voice sounded small and luka wanted to reach out and physically comfort him but felt that might be too much.
"of course not."
"i was eavesdropping," cat noir seemed to move farther and farther from luka, hunching his shoulders to hide.
"maybe, they knew you were listening and tried to pull a prank on you."
"well that's just mean! i mean it would explain why you-" the hero stopped himself and frantically moved his eyes around. "i mean they-"
luka tried not to laugh, "adrien, i know it's you. you can detransform now."
"what! no! i'm not that pretty model boy, i'm just an average guy who really has to go," cat noir tried to scurry past luka but he blocked the window.
"adrien, it's okay, no one has to know that i know. but please i need to talk to you," luka reached out to grab cat noir's, who he was sure was adrien, hands. "ladybug and rena rouge are supposed to be me and jul right?"
cat noir avoided luka's eyes, "claws in," a nearly blinding neon green light filled luka's room. luka blinked away the spots in his eyes and saw his friend who he had just chased a half hour ago.
"adrien...talk to me."
"can we- can we sit?" luka nodded and moved his guitar off his bed. he patted the sheet covered mattress and sat down. adrien sat and began to fiddle with the ends of a blanket luka had.
"tell me what's going on, adrien."
"i heard you and juleka talking earlier," adrien tried to not let his emotions show but failed almost miserably.
luka knew it was about that! he kept his thoughts to himself as it didn't seem like the time. he was also confused. they never mentioned adrien by name, they didn't even allude to him. how could he have taken it so personally?
"but-"
adrien cut luka off, "wait, let me finish, or i'll never be able to say it."
luka pressed his lips in a line and urged adrien to continue.
"yesterday, i asked juleka to ask you if you liked anybody. she told me she would try her best and to come over today to hang out so she could talk with me. i got here a little too early and...heard you say no."
"what?" luka was confused.
"i was so heartbroken that i dropped the food i had brought for us all to share."
luka remembered hearing something fall outside but was too focused on the jean covered legs running away.
"i ran away so you wouldn't see me but somehow you caught up with me. i kept running because...i couldn't look you in the eye," luka could hear adrien's voice get weak with his held-back tears. "it sounds so stupid when i say it out loud."
luka grabbed adrien's free hand and searched for his eyes, "adrien, it's not stupid. i'm sorry you had to hear that," luka inhaled deeply and reached up to caress adrien's cheek, "especially because it wasn't true."
adrien's eyes widened, "i don't understand."
"adrien, please forgive me, i didn't tell juleka the truth. i do have a crush on someone," luka wiped away a stray tear that fell from adrien's eye.
"luka...what are you saying right now?" adrien's eyes seemed to bore into luka's. luka wasn't even sure if he had seen adrien blink since reciting his side of the story.
"i like you, adrien. i really like you. i'm so sorry that you thought i didn't," luka's hold on adrien's cheek never let up. adrien even reached up to keep luka's hand in place.
"really? you like...me? why?"
"why wouldn't i?" luka slightly frowned.
"i don't know. i mean, we've never really spent that much time together. i assumed you only thought of me as an acquaintance at best." adrien broke eye contact, he couldn't bring himself to look at luka anymore.
"adrien, none of that stopped you from liking me," luka stated, "so why would it stop me from liking you?"
adrien kept his eyes down.
"hm? can you answer that?"
"no, no i can't," adrien's voice went back to being small and it broke luka's heart. luka guided adrien's head up so he could look back into his eyes.
"we like each other, adrien, and neither of us can fully explain it. that's perfectly okay."
adrien's voice was full again, "we like each other."
luka tried not to let out a chuckle, "yes, that's what i just said."
"no, i mean, i didn't have to be scared. you like me as much i like you. well i probably like you a little more, i feel my feelings very aggressively," adrien started to ramble. luka had to admit, it was cute.
"i can see that," luka finally let out a small laugh.
"i'm sorry about the whole running away thing. i didn't even know i could run that fast without my miraculous-"
adrien's eyes widened and luka waited to hear what he would say.
"you know about my miraculous!" adrien whisper-yelled, he got off of the bed. he started to pace around luka's room.
"what miraculous?" luka attempted to say cooly but adrien missed the joke entirely.
"ya know, the one that transforms me into a cat man! the one that i wasn't supposed to tell anyone about! the one that gives me super fast reflexes! the one that gives me stupid cat ears- oh." luka half smiled as adrien finally got it.
"i meant what i said earlier, no one has to know that i, luka couffaine, know the identity of french hero, cat noir." luka put on a dramatic voice for the last bit, much to adrien's unamusement.
"you're not funny."
"sure i am, but i'm also one hundred percent serious. i'm not gonna tell anyone, i promise. can you sit down now?" luka extended his hand out to adrien who sighed and took hold of it.
luka pulled adrien towards him, causing adrien to yelp. adrien was pulled onto a laughing and leaned back luka.
"ow." adrien jokingly said.
luka slightly scoffed, "that didn't hurt and you know it."
"no, it didn't. i'm just dramatic."
"yeah, i know, it's very noticeable."
"you're very blunt at times, ya know that, right?" adrien shimmied into a more comfortable position, his back against the wall and his legs on top of luka's.
"and yet, you like me, so who's really the problem here?"
"both of us," they both laughed and any awkward or scared tension there was before seemed to quickly dissipate.
"ya know, the cat ears aren't that stupid. i actually kinda li-" Luka was interrupted by a hand covering his mouth.
"don't you dare finish that sentence," adrien tried to say sternly but luka knew he was all bark no bite, in the most adorable way possible.
so he licked adrien's hand. adrien dramatically screamed and wiped off his hand on luka's shoulder. luka erupted in melodic laughter, which in a way, made adrien feel like everything was gonna be all right.
(any notes or criticisms or praises that you guys have, i'd be more than glad to hear about. ofc be respectful and understanding, this is the first fanfiction that i've literally ever posted on anything so ofc it's not going to be perfect. but i really hope you liked it)
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missingn000 · 4 months
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fourswords · 2 months
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tell me i didn't just write a thousand-word outline of a goddamn mc x fsa time travel crossover story. I'm Supposed To Be Doing Things
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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Ready to Comply
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Villain!Reader
Plot: Something had been missing. But that has nothing to do with your life time enemy standing in front of you to finally end this.
Warnings: 18+. Smut, light angst and violence.
Words: 4,4OO
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He remembers telling Steve and Sam about them – “Their most elite death squad. They speak thirty languages. Can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”
…and you used to be one of them.
Bucky takes another look around the massive room, wincing when he sees all of his colleagues passed out around the space. It happened way too fast. How is he the only one still standing? They walked in here so confident, so prepared. He had done so much research on you. He knew everything.
His mind is running a million miles an hour to try and process how you are still so calm after single-handedly taking out his entire team. So skilled, so graceful. Only one strand of hair had come loose to hang over your eyes.
It’s just you and him now. Again. Exactly how you ended up last time. And the time before that, long before he had a team to stand with him. You’re the only one who has had nearly all versions of James Buchanan Barnes as your opponent. Why the fight has never been settled before, neither you nor Bucky know …or let yourselves admit.
It is a thing of Bucky’s nightmares. The same one, over and over and over again. You are always in it and always have the winning hand. Never has he been able to figure out how to make the odds turn in his favour. This conniving, effortless and mean – mean – woman. This picture of a villain that heats his blood to a boiling point and makes his skin tighten with frustration. He’s had the dreams for years. For years, the image of you haunted him.
Though if he had to be honest, despite the endless losing battle, seeing you in his dreams was a welcome relief. You became a confusing token for him during these years of recovery. A constant – an image of beauty almost. Now here you are, again.
Bucky turns to you, his piercing eyes connecting with yours as you raise your brows in curiosity.
“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” he scoffs and you admire the way he sounds so cool. Like you haven’t just proven how easily you could beat him. Not that you’d make it quick or easy – not with him. What would be the fun in that?
You have spent years perfecting an attack on this man, knowing he’d return to you time and time again. Like fate wanted him in your claws. Your little plaything. All you can see is a challenge. For you, yes, but mostly for him. To break him, tear him to shreds. Perhaps, if the fates allow, for him to change his alliance. For him to finally embrace that inner darkness, find harmony and purpose with that Winter Soldier monster in his body.
A challenge indeed…
“Scared of me?” you drawl with an indifferent shrug of your shoulder, “No.” You never intended to scare him – of course, not until the next words fall from your lips. “I think you and I both know perfectly well there’s only one thing you in particular should be scared of,” you start, “a part of you that can hurt you beyond torture.” You can tell he has caught on when you see his jaw tick and his eyes harden. Your footsteps are slow and long as you approach the metal-armed soldier in the middle of the large hall of the worn castle you decided to reside in. “And don’t be mistaken, I don’t need ten pretty, Russian words to turn that side against you.” Silence before your final blow, “Your trauma will work just fine.”
That seems to be the trigger as he lunges forward, raising his hands and turning them to claws before you take a few steps back and halt him with a simple palm in the air.
“ –Careful,” you warn with deadly calm. “Every time you show people that short fuse of yours, you make it so easy for someone to grab onto it and light it on fire.” Short puffs of air leave his flaring nostrils and you purse your lips to repress the sadistic smile spreading over it. Until you realise you don’t care, letting the corners of your mouth tug upwards.
“Look at you,” you mock, “still depending on the control exercised on you for years. You have no idea how to take the reins yourself.”
“You don’t think I can exercise control?” The question is his way to take back his power, having had quite enough of you pressing where it hurts. His voice is clear, sharp, the gravel in it completely gone.
Bucky’s face, to your disappointment and his credit, remains stoic and you have no idea how lucky you are he has learned to restrain himself even just slightly, because you don’t know how dangerous Bucky becomes when he is genuinely pissed. Sure, he’s grumpy and harsh all the time and you’ve seen him channel Hydra’s fury, but hardly ever does his own rage come out to play.
“A smart and well-trained assassin doesn’t dive at his target like that. Any chance you’re still as good as the Winter Soldier without Hydra telling you what to do?” A small part inside you is warning you to back off, to not test the dangerous man any further. Just because you know exactly how to push the Bucky Barnes past his limit, doesn’t mean you should.
“The Winter Soldier was created to kill. I can do much more damage.”
“To yourself?” You nearly snort.
Bucky grits his teeth harder. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
“Let me ask you an important question,” he starts, his voice awfully cool and steady, “what on Earth makes you think I need to control myself when I can so easily control you instead?”
And now you know where that voice, the confidence, comes from. You clench your jaw tightly when the heel of your right foot dips down in the open grove between the floor and the heightened platform. A grove that has crumbled down into the depths of the ancient building, where you know the dungeons are. So far down with so much debris at the bottom, one wrong step and the fall would instantly kill you. Even as you are – a super soldier just like Bucky, yet chosen different paths – you won’t survive that fall and Bucky knows it.
You should have known not to pick this location to hide in – shouldn’t have picked the ruin you passed in the way through the mountains. Bucky guided your arrogant self straight into a trap what he assumed is of your own making. The bastard was always manipulative enough to get people to fall into the grave they dug themselves. So pretty, so skilled and somehow… so, so clever.
Sure, you can be impulsive at times, but it isn’t like Bucky is giving you any other choice than to whip out the nearest blade and charge at him. Smirk on his face, Bucky settles into fighting mode and opens his stance to welcome you in. Not giving him any time to realise that he had you fair and square, you summon decades of training into your limbs. Your head goes quiet, eerily still, as muscle memory takes over and your feet and elbows and hands crack into every open spot that Bucky has.
Quakes of pain hit you at every defence he puts up, but you soothe it over with your next blow. Hit after kick after punch, you work Bucky back into the main hall, away from your previous battlefield and trying not to lose all that space you fought for.
Hesitate and you die. Hesitate and you die. The mantra keeps repeating in your empty head and you scream and grunt and yell with every powerful thrust of your fists, only for all of it to be blocked by Bucky. There is more than anger coming to the surface. This rage – this ancient rage at yourself, at the world, at Hydra–
Bucky doesn’t get any time to retaliate, but you know better than to think you can exhaust him with fighting techniques he has memorised himself. So you switch to the sharp end of the blade and you twist and turn it within your hand as you jab and stab for the soft bits of skin on his body.
Your bones shudder when the knife jams between the plates of his arm and Bucky’s hand flies to take the knife during the abrupt pause your body found itself in. But you’re nearly as strong as he is and definitely faster, so you twist the knife with Bucky’s own power to angle against his chest and jam it there.
The blade tugs at the fabric of his shirt and Bucky’s eyes harden as they fall on yours. You narrow your own eyes at him and grit your teeth as you put pressure behind the stabbing instrument. Your gaze lowers to your hands.
His hand is wrapped around yours almost in a gentle way, the length of his fingers curling around your fist which is clutched around the handle of the blade. The touch makes you shiver and you focus all your attention on staying rigid and exercising enough power to remain in your current position. Both your breaths are shallow and the stare you’re exchanging is so sharp, you’re sure you can see a bolt of electricity shoot from your irises to his.
Slowly dragging your hand down half an inch, he wraps his other hand around yours as well, two of his hands now securing the blade against his own chest. You try not to let it show how much his actions confuse you, apprehension burning in your stomach. His flesh hand is warm, radiating heat from his skin to yours, callouses scraping slightly.
“Right here. Through the ribs and into my heart.” His voice is soft and calm, coaxing a paradoxical reaction from you. It makes you want to prove to him he has no reason to be this calm, but his tone calms you down all the same. He trusts you enough to hold a blade to his chest, yet has no faith in you to drive it through his ribs.
Always these games…
Bucky hisses through his teeth, "Kill me then. I fucking dare you." Though his tone is just as calm and quiet as before, private almost, there’s an impatience to his voice. Like he wants you to put him out of his misery.
“Got something to run from?” you purr with a sympathetic head tilt, eyes still narrowed in on his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“On the contrary. I have all the time in the world,” he whispers and you notice his head moving closer just an inch, his scent making your eyes flutter. He didn’t seem like the type to smell exceptionally good – but boy, were you wrong.
“Should I make it a slow death then?” you taunt and he smirks.
“Whatever makes you feel the most power.” Damn him. He knows those words strip the power away from you in an instant. He knows it and he knows you know it, too. “But that leaves you with none, doesn’t it?”
You hold your breath to keep your defeat from slipping out with it. Eyes on the blade in your hands with a look as sharp as the dagger itself, you tighten your fists around the handle.
And all of a sudden it dawns on you. Fear. Gut-wrenching, horrifying fear. Not of Bucky. But losing him. The consequences of allowing yourself to plunge that knife into his body. It’s ridiculous, really. You barely know him. Yet–
Yet he is the only one like you. The only one with emotions and personality traits abnormally heightened like your own, with that goddamn serum tainting his DNA. The only other person in constant war within themself - war between good and evil. Good won in him. Evil won in you. Because the world is so awful, so endlessly painful. And Bucky knows that – has been a victim of that awful nature. Yet good won.
He’s good.
And you want to jam a knife between his ribs.
So you do the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do if you were ever in this position, because it would make you lose your resolve: you look up into his eyes.
Grey-blue.
You remember, from all those times staring him down and trying not to think of their colour. That beautiful, innocent colour that you knew he could flatten with just a look, a drop of his brow. All brightness and light gone and eyes empty. But it is there now. You don’t get where the light comes from that shimmers in his eyes. It’s a dark room.
“Why are you hesitating?” he asks, his voice merely a whisper. You never heard him sound like this before.
“I’m not.”
“I could have killed you five times over by now,” he reminds you, his hands twisting around yours, showing you just how easily he could redirect the knife’s target.
“You won’t.”
“I won’t?”
“You won’t,” you breathe.
A pause.
“I won’t,” he breathes back, his eyes dropping down. You swallow and the room seems to shrink, so much so, you hear your heartbeat echoing around you.
You don’t get to release the air lodged into your throat as Bucky lunges again, this time to cover your lips with his own. You hadn’t realised that your grip on the knife was completely depending on Bucky’s hands, until the weapon clatters to the floor the second his hands grab your face to drag it up to his.
You want to enjoy the feeling of his lips, but the rush you feel and your ramming pulse make you feel impossibly dizzy. His tongue taking advantage of the gasp you let out makes you dizzier, and you let out a whine. He groans back, walking you backward in an attempt to get closer to you. This large, solid man pushing and pushing and pushing as he strips all your bodily control from you with his bruising kiss.
You think you’re kissing him back, you aren’t sure, but every step he takes forward, you flee back. Step after step, you refuse to close the distance, his mouth so wild and feral against yours. Until you gasp again, your back hitting a crumbling pillar and Bucky crushes his entire frame against yours, his nails digging into your scalp as the kiss deepens.
Then it hits you. And it overwhelms you now. Your hands clawing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck – closer, closer, closer. God, he tastes like fire and stone and that ancient fight. You moan desperately and he grinds his hips into yours, making your knees nearly buckle over from the pleasure it ignites between your thighs. You need more of that, of his arousal against your own.
Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you realise that this was your fight all along. This was the very thing you needed to settle. A compatibility no one can match. And you want to tell him that, mock him for it when his lips leave yours, but they attach themselves to that spot below your ear and your eyes roll to the back of your head with a low moan.
This man…
“Who would have known,” he murmurs against your skin, accentuating his words with the scrape of his teeth, barely making you able to register them, “those moans might be the thing that actually kills me.”
You almost want to laugh, but he’s right. If your moans kill him, his mouth will kill you. Your heart is beating so loud, so hard, the organ might give out entirely. Your fingers hurt from clutching onto him and you can’t feel your legs. All he’s done is kiss your neck. His grip on you is so tight, so full of frustration and passion–
“Bucky,” you rasp and he freezes.
His forehead drops to your shoulder. “You’ve never said my name before,” he grinds out, his voice rough. “Do it again.”
“Bucky.”
“Again.”
“Bucky.”
His head lifts from your shoulder, his hands still holding your face and his eyes connecting with yours. “I am not going to stop until you have no voice left to say it with.”
He isn’t asking for permission. Not at all. This was a warning – for you to prepare, to finally settle this. You cling to that last piece, that last little shred of dignity and defiance.
“Who says we won’t leave this battle unfinished like all the other ones?” you ask, albeit breathlessly, clinging to that mechanism that keeps him away and angry.
Bucky narrows his eyes, dragging them over each of your features in a slow, deliberate swoop. You feel like your skin might peel off if he looks at you any longer. He can see it, can see the facade. The grip on your face is tight and you try not to swallow away the dryness in your throat.
Then he smiles.
“Nice try,” he nearly whispers, “but now that we’re here, I’m not planning on any unfinished business with you.”
This time you do swallow, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. You try to snap your walls back up, push him away, but your body isn’t listening. It’s whining for him, crying out for that spark. That final puzzle piece. The one man that can handle you. The only one that is still standing there in the end.
You feel it shift– your alliance.
“Shut up,” you snap and crash your mouth to his, fingers clutching to his shirt.
He laughs against your lips and his hands slide around your waist now, dragging you closer and conveniently dragging you up so one of his thighs slots between yours. The touch of his firm muscle against your throbbing core makes your knees tremble and you would melt to the floor if it wasn’t for Bucky’s hold on you.
The shuddering breath you let out has Bucky knowing enough. He never saw this coming, never even considered this. But he felt the shift – he was sure it was your scent that made his body betray him. Somewhere, his mind was screaming at him to not be stupid and drag that fucking knife away from his heart. Yet his intuition, trained for decades and somehow sharper than ever today, had muffled that scared voice and told him to trust his gut. She isn’t going to do it. And it was right. Just like he wouldn’t have done it.
And now – this powerful, deadly, untouchable woman is in his arms. So pliant, so desperate, so needy. He couldn’t feel more powerful himself. Not a serum in the world, not a stronger metal for his arm could grant him the feeling of power he has now. With you on his side, he is unstoppable. You can make him do anything.
He has something else in mind, however. He wants to show you exactly what anything entails, how much he is actually willing to do for you. And the strangled moan against his hungry mouth when he drags your hips over his thigh again, settles it for him. There is nothing like the pride and hunger that rushes through his veins when he hears that noise.
Maybe one thing. When you say his name.
“Bucky.”
Fuck.
Digging his fingers into your body so hard he’s sure he is leaving temporary bruises –Good, you’re his now– he lets out an animalistic growl and gives a hard thrust against you. Your body moulds perfectly between him and the pillar. The answering grind of your hips against him, brushing his cock so nicely, has his heart coming to a stop. The kiss turns messy, tongues and teeth and bruised lips, he doesn’t know what to do with that endless, dreadful need. Both your breaths are uncontrolled and low noises of need slip from both of you. He doesn’t know where his body ends and yours begins, so entangled with each other as he mindlessly grinds you further into the crumbling stone.
“I swear to God, if you don’t take off your clothes soon,” your growl surprises him and he lets out a low laugh at the desperate command. The only reason he doesn’t mock you for it, is because he agrees. Why are his clothes still on?
Quickly setting you down, he starts making work of his clothes, both of you ripping at yourselves to get rid of that last barrier. But Bucky gets distracted and helps you undress instead. And when you’re left in just your underwear and a lose hanging shirt that sags over your shoulders, all Bucky has managed is to shed his weapons and to unbuckle his belt. Earning an unimpressed glare from you at the lack of nudity, Bucky lets out a growl in answer.
“I’ll fuck you slowly later,” he grunts and is on you again.
You want to protest, you really do, but the words escape you the second his lips connect with yours again. Oh, this man is trouble. Softer and languid this time, his mouth drags over yours, tongue taunting and tasting. You slacken against him, your fingers around his forearms to keep from slipping to the ground. Trouble, trouble, trouble.
In such a daze, such a trance from that sinful mouth, you hardly notice his hands slipping between your thighs after his leg pushes them apart. That first touch, so deliberate, so specific, of his fingers to your aching pussy, has you visibly shudder against him, nails digging into his skin.
“I was wrong,” he breathes over your lips. His fingers slip past the flimsy fabric of your panties and a long finger slips through your folds, dipping into your hole tentatively before teasing you further. “This is going to be the thing that kills me.”
And with that painful confession, his finger slips into your dripping hole so easily, so smoothly, so goddamn deep, you lift to your toes and stretch to make it bearable.
It’s unbearable, the pleasure that sparks all throughout your body. You need him to move, need him to– to–
“More,” you plead, unable to open your eyes back up, “more, more, more.”
You can almost hear his cocky grin as he slips another finger in and curls it against a spot deep inside of you. It releases a moan so sudden, you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried, your eyes flying open. Bucky’s brows shoot up with intrigue, pressing his fingertips against that spot again and almost making you curl up into a ball against him. Fuck. He’s going to kill you.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathes, his forehead falling to yours after watching that look of defeat on your face, “I got you.”
Thoughts having left your head, you can only nod breathlessly, tilting your head back against the stone as his fingers start working inside of you. The involuntary convulsions of your cunt around his fingers make your neck and cheeks warm, the loss of control making you feel beyond vulnerable. But God, you can’t find it in you to care too much. The way he stuffs you full, the way his mouth works messily against the column of your neck, the heavy breaths that come from him from just pleasing you – it all builds up in your abdomen. Tightening, fluttering, aching. Your toes curl as his fingers move faster, the friction against your entrance so filthy in combination with the sound of your wetness.
Bucky groans, impatience straining through his cock as he wants to feel you around his fingers. He can feel you flutter, he can hear your breathing getting impossibly laboured and he should, he really should, want to drag this out more. But there is this wild, primal part of him that wants to get you to your next orgasm already, and your next, and the one after that.
He sighs deeply, channelling all of his restraint to keep calm and savour this moment. This moment of weakness for you. Weakness within him. Fuck, you’re his weakness. His fingers keep moving into that spot that seems to make you stutter and stumble, his wrist turning to make you feel that stretch, his tongue darting out to touch that spot under your ear. And then, he presses his palm to your clit, thrumming with need, and the shudder that rumbles down your spine has him stand on alert instantly.
Rotating his palm against your clit, his fingers ramming into your spot, he watches in awe as you fall apart around them. The way your eyes roll back, the breathless scream from your lips, the tension building and building and building in your body before weakening to near paralysis. Oh, that does things for Bucky’s ego.
Fingers trembling and bottom lip aching from the assault of your own teeth, you try desperately to get some air back into your lungs. You can’t feel your legs, your head is buzzing and your pussy won’t stop contracting around Bucky’s fingers, even as they have stopped moving.
“Oh my God,” you whine softly, eyes still closed.
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, burying his face in your neck. That was the best thing he’s ever done. Screw making amends, screw being good, this made it all worth it. He doesn’t know why or how, but this makes that neglected part inside of him hum with delight.
But he’s not done. Oh no, not with his cock groaning at him to explore you a bit further. Not with only his zipper in the way of that warmth that is still wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, how good would his fingers taste right about now?
He’s not waiting to find out and then his eyes lock with yours, darkness and light shimmering in them simultaneously. They flutter to close at the taste, at the way you bite your lip as the sight, but he is not losing you out of his sights.
“Winter soldier,” you breathe, a calm sort of power tainting your tone.
Oh, he likes it when you call him that.
You do not need those ten Russian words. At all.
He smirks, “Ya gotov otvechat.”
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pricelessemotion · 7 months
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here's a little snippet of the wip that will hopefully be up by tmrw bc I can't help myself
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Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween. 
He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up. 
As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets. 
It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer. 
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starheirxero · 3 months
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I love words so much there's so many fun things to say.... like. y'all hear this shit? divine. theophagy. machine. clockwork. angel. blood. flesh. viscera. primordial. antennae. those words fucking rock i love words so much bro
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discordiansamba · 3 months
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if this chapter of long live the queen goes as planned, the fic *should* be finished maybe within the next two chapters? it really depends on what I decide to do with the chapter after this one.
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valtoswife · 4 months
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Julius knew he wasn’t fooling any of the prisoners when he told them he was put in charge of them. Perhaps he should have thought through that part of his plan more, but he was too worried about the first part to really focus on the second. He hadn’t actually expected Jack to agree to let him take over, but then again maybe he should have figured Jack would always take the opportunity to go on any sort of mission that involved fighting unbelievably strong beings, even if it meant neglecting the other parts of his job. But either way, it would’ve been pointless if the prisoners saw through him and he was forced to find someone else to supervise them anyways.
Valtos folded his arms, the chains on his wrists making a soft clinking noise as he did so. “You can’t possibly be a magic knight. You’re too young to even have a grimoire.”
“So I look a bit young for my age.” Julius shrugged. “I assure you, I do have one.”
“Really? Where is it?” Sally tilted her head curiously at him.
Julius froze, thinking of how to respond. He very well couldn’t show these people anything that might give away his identity, but he also had to say or do something, anything that might convince them that he was supposed to be there. “Ah...well, I would show you, but I’m a bit embarrassed to. You see, it’s kinda only one page.”
The third prisoner, Rades, who was at first barely even paying attention to what was going on, suddenly shot up his eyebrow. He turned around to face Julius, trying desperately to suppress the grin on his face and hide the relief of knowing there was someone out there with a grimoire just like his. “Wow, I guess that would be really embarrassing. So you can’t really blame him for not showing his grimoire to us, right?” Julius mentally cheered. He wasn’t even lying when he told them that excuse, and it worked!
Valtos rolled his eyes at Rades before turning back to Julius. “Fine. I don’t know why someone like you would be sent to supervise us, but it’s not my place to question it.”
“Yeah, it’s totally fine as long as you guys do your work and don’t cause trouble!” Julius did his best to give a convincing innocent smile, which was thankfully something he became considerably better at since he got his new form, at least to strangers and acquaintances. However, he couldn’t quite tell if that was the case with the group in front of him right then.
They did not need prompting to clean up the rubble, not even Rades, though he still endlessly grumbled while he did so. Julius watched with great interest as he saw how the three of them worked together, with Sally gathering the harder to reach broken pieces with her Gel Magic, and Rades carrying the endless parts with his Wraith Magic, putting all of them into Valtos’ pitch black portals, who then had even the biggest remains disappear in the blink of an eye.
They managed to work for a good while before Julius ended up interrupting them. He promised himself that all he was going to do was observe, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to take a closer look, to have the countless questions in his mind answered. Gel Magic had so many interesting properties, Spatial Magic was so practical yet so rare, and Wraith Magic was unlike anything he had ever seen before.
“So how do all of your magics work?” Julius stepped between the three of them, his lavender eyes sparkling with curiosity. Sally immediately turned around to respond, and Rades, looking for any chance to stop working, followed suit. Valtos gave a low grunt of annoyance but turned around as well.
“My Gel Magic can carry lots of different things inside of it!” Sally explained. “It’s perfect for collecting samples! Or taking people around too!”
Being with these people and seeing how...casual they all acted made him nearly forget why there were stuck cleaning the capital in the first place, until the memory of Asta, the strong, brave magic knight, trapped by the girl in front of him entered his mind. “Ah, I see,” was all Julius could say. He knew that even if they still wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to create that sort of turmoil to the people of the kingdom again, but their past crimes were still always going to be in the back of his mind when he was with them.
He cleared his throat. Still, that wasn’t going to stop him from wanting to learn more about their powers. “How about you?” he asked Valtos. He was interested to find out just how similar or different his magic might be to his advisor Cob’s.
Valtos shrugged. “My magic’s simple. I open portals and teleport people and objects. I also have a couple of attack spells and a transformation spell. That’s all there is to it, really.”
“Can I see it more closely?”
Valtos opened a black portal beneath a pile of bricks and Julius leaned up to it to look closer as they disappeared.
“I’ve never seen portals like yours, where they open horizontally and whatever’s on it sinks to the other location,” Julius commented. But it made sense, he realized, given how exactly this man had utilized his magic against the magic knights before. Ignoring the tension in his chest again, he added, “There’s another spatial mage I know, whose spells could never work the way yours does, because of the form his portals take. Unless...he could make a trapdoor portal! Ooh...I’m gonna ask him about that.”
“Rades, your turn!” Sally said. “Show him your magic!”
“No!” Rades folded his arms.
“What?” Julius asked.
“I said no! Don’t even tell him what affinity mine is!” Julius knew better than to tell him he was already aware of what it was.
“Oh, come on, Rades!” Sally said. “You’re no fun!”
“What’s the problem?” Valtos asked. “Even I went and showed my magic.”
“Yeah!” Julius nodded. “Don’t worry. It’s just a fun thing to do as a little break from all the work. You won’t get in trouble; I’m the one distracting you guys.”
“How many times do I have to say it?!” Rades pointed at Julius, glaring with his uncovered eye. “I’m sick of countless people like you hearing about my magic and sighing about how it was always inevitable that I ended up here! You know, maybe, just maybe, my magic had absolutely nothing to do with it!”
Julius repeated, “What?”
“Yeah! Maybe it had to do with you guys seeing the nonexistent worst in me before I ever even did anything, and banishing me, ostracizing me, leaving me alone with no one, absolutely no one, except for one person, one person, who used me for his own crimes and goals and threw me away, so now I’m stuck here! You guys are the ones that made it inevitable for me! You just blamed my magic while you did it!”
Julius glanced at Sally and Valtos, but from the looks on their faces, they seemed just as surprised as he was by the outburst. “You don’t have to talk about or show me it. It’s fine.”
“Good,” was all Rades grumbled.
Julius watched as Rades continued to work, recalling what little he knew about Rades’ past. He used to be a Purple Orca before he got exiled from the squad and kingdom. The same squad as Zara. He wondered how much Rades’ status as a commoner might’ve had to do with his banishment, in addition to his magic affinity. As violent and bitter Rades had become, that did not change the fact that he was yet another person the Clover Kingdom forsook for no good reason at first. Another person Julius wasn’t able to help, at first.
The three prisoners kept working for the rest of the day, and before Julius knew it, the area was completely cleared. “Great job, guys! You’ve earned another break!”
“Finally!” Rades did not waste a moment. He immediately made his away over to one corner of the street, sitting on the sidewalk and humming to himself. Valtos went the opposite direction, staring at the sun as it sank behind a cluster of buildings.
“Hey!” Julius didn’t fail to notice Sally right behind him but did not keep her from approaching him. “I figured out why you were so acting so secretive earlier when you told us you were watching us today!”
“Did you now?” Julius looked around, but unfortunately they did too good of a job cleaning the place for him to find anything he could use. There’s that spell I just started working on, but it’s not anywhere near ready for me to cast yet...
“Yeah! Your hair color, your eyes! You’re his spitting image!” Sally grinned, triumphant over her discovery. “It makes sense that anyone related to the wizard king would want to hide their identity from us, after what almost happened to him a couple months ago.”
“Huh?” Julius asked.
“You know, I’ve met him before! He’s cool!” As if just noticing the look on his face, Sally only then said, “Don’t worry! I won’t tell anyone!”
“Glad to hear it.” Julius smiled back. “Because if you do...”
“Ah, there’s no need for threats. I promise I won’t even tell Rades or Valtos,” she assured him.
Julius sighed. “All right.”
“Can I ask you a question though?”
“...What is it?”
“Why did you agree to watch us? I know Valtos said that Patri, our old leader, had nearly killed the wizard king. I mean, I don’t think I would mind too much if I had to spend time with someone who hurt me before, but that’s just me. Do you really not mind we’re from the group that attacked your relative?”
Julius blinked at her. “I...Well, it’s not that I don’t mind. I will admit, it’s hard to be around you guys knowing what you’ve done. But now, everyone needs to work together to help the kingdom recover. As for the reason I’m here in the first place, well, I was just curious. How was this kind of sentence working out for you? I’ve decided it’s fitting; the least you three can do is clean up the mess you’ve helped make.”
“Hm,” Sally thought about his response for a moment. “Well, Rades doesn’t seem to like it, but I think Valtos does, for the same reason you gave. I don’t have a strong opinion about it. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for me to research though.”
“Well, it’s not about how you feel about it,” Julius pointed out.
Sally shrugged. “I was asking about why you’re here because,” she looked down at the ground, “I’ve never really considered that type of thing before. There’s someone who made me a promise, but he hasn’t lived up to that promise yet, even though it’s been months. I’m starting to wonder...did he go back on it because he doesn’t want to be around me?”
“Who made you the promise?” Julius asked.
“A Black Bull. Asta’s his name.” Sally fiddled her hands around glumly. “He promised he’d let me experiment on him, as long as I didn’t hurt him and I helped other people. But that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time here, right? Helping! And if he wants to he could totally use whatever I make out of my research too! So why hasn’t he visited and lived up to his promise yet? Is it because he can’t stand to be around me, after what I’ve done?”
Julius looked at the young prisoner. She had a desperation in her eyes that Julius knew all too well: the desperation to learn. And he had a feeling that Asta was not one to break promises, unless he had a really good reason to. “Well, the Black Bulls have been dealing with a lot lately. He might’ve just not had the chance to fulfill his promise yet. I’ll tell you what. How about I try and see for myself what Asta wants, and if he is still up for it, I’ll set up a date for you two.”
“Really?” Sally’s eyes shimmered, and she shook her hands around, causing her handcuffs to rattle as she was barely able to contain her relief and excitement. “Thank you!”
“No, of course.” Julius nodded at her. “This will be really useful for the kingdom as well.”
He couldn’t help but get his hopes up that such a thing would get to happen. He knew all about the research Sally conducted while in the Eye of the Midnight Sun, everything from her magic items to the bodies she grew for the leaders. It was all morbid and fascinating.
Perhaps with a few...ethical limitations, she can be of great use to the Clover Kingdom. An asset beyond what Julius could possibly imagine at the moment.
He glanced back at Valtos and Rades in the distance. And not just her. Those other two have skills as well that would do numbers for the kingdom. I should try and see if I can set them up with anything else too. But if not now, if anything ever comes up later, I’m sure they can help out a bit too then at least.
Soon, the three prisoners had to go, and so Julius said his goodbyes. Valtos cleared his throat before saying, “I apologize for my initial doubts towards you. I was just worried about what kind of trouble a false guard could bring if anything were to happen. But you’ve more than proven that you are a good, legitimate magic knight and guard, if a little...distractible. So, whatever it’s worth, you have my respect.”
Ignoring the tiniest hint of guilt over all his white lies after what Valtos just said, Julius simply nodded at him. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, I guess it was fun. Better than dealing with Jack, at least,” Rades conceded. Julius nodded at him as well.
“So you’ll really go and see if Asta will still keep his promise for me?” Sally asked.
“Yes,” Julius confirmed.
“Thank you!” she said again, and then shook his hand profusely with both her own.
He took a step back once she was done. “Yeah. No problem. This’ll be really good, if Asta does keep his promise.” He looked up at her. “You’re going to do great things for the Clover Kingdom now, I’m sure.”
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soloorganaas · 8 months
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and i did not care for it
(nsfw adjacent)
It wasn’t just that Crowley was there; it was that Aziraphale actually wanted to be around him. He wanted to share whatever local cuisine was particularly enjoyable, and watch Crowley smile as Aziraphale enthused at its wonders, and hear him laugh at tales of Aziraphale’s exploits, and quietly marvel at whatever adventure Crowley had been having and what new insights he had into the world around them that always seemed to pass Aziraphale by completely.
He just liked… sharing things with Crowley.
“You know,” Aziraphale began carefully. “I’ve found it quite enjoyable sometimes. Human… relations.”
Crowley’s eyebrows shot up over his glasses.
“Oh, come on, don’t look so surprised.”
“I’m not… surprised,” Crowley said, his voice cracking on the last word.
“It was all the rage back in Athens, don’t you remember? People seemed to enjoy it just as much as food, so I thought I would… see what all the fuss was about.”
Crowley swallowed, hard; Aziraphale saw the chance and pressed his advantage.
“I’d have thought this would be more your kind of thing, temptation and all that. Isn’t that what you said back in Rome?”
“Yeah, well. You know. It’s more about tempting humans into it. I mean I’m not saying I haven’t – you know. Obviously I’ve – there’s just….” He gulped awkwardly. “A time and a place.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said, slightly crestfallen. “So you’re not interested?”
Crowley’s eyes snapped to his, a slight flush on his cheeks, and then his gaze sharpened in realisation.
“Interested… how?” he asked with a slow, curious smile.
“Well,” Aziraphale said coyly, glancing down at his perfectly manicured nails. “As we both seem to enjoy a nice plate of Paphlagonian cheese or goblet of wine together, I thought perhaps we’d also enjoy… other human activities.”
Crowley looked as if he was about to burst with all the things he wanted to say. Aziraphale wondered for a terrible moment if he’d misjudged him. Perhaps their understanding didn’t include this at all.
But then Crowley downed his drink, and turned to Aziraphale with a sultry smile that sent heat scorching through his body.
“I think a room upstairs just became available.”
read the rest here
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