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yawnderu · 7 months

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Ghostface - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Kinktober Day 5 - Phone Sex

Not rlly satisfied with this one but I'm posting to keep the kinktober streak

''What's your favorite horror movie?'' A deep, unrecognizable voice asked on the other side of the phone as you were preparing popcorn, ready to have a horror movie marathon while your boyfriend was out. You hesitate before answering, an eyebrow raised as you think about your answer.

''Uh- I don't know. Who's this?'' You glance back at your phone screen, just realizing the call comes from a private number.

''I'll tell you yours if you tell me mine.'' The voice replied, and you can hear the shit-eating grin simply by his tone. You roll your eyes, hanging up as you focus on preparing the call, trying to think about something else besides the weird interaction. Halloween was near, so it was no surprise assholes were prank calling.

You move the popcorn bag around, making sure all the seeds can get buttered up and explode, the sound of your phone ringing again making you jump in surprise before hurriedly picking up, hoping your boyfriend finally found some free time to call you.

''What are you wearing?'' The accent sounds familiar, yet the voice changer he's using is making it hard to distinguish. Is he...?

''None of your business.'' You scoff, looking around your apartment just to make sure no one managed to break in, despite the fancy security system reassuring you already.

''You look pretty.'' He compliments and your heart stops, head snapping towards the only window you're close to, walking closer and closer, wondering if someone can see you despite the dark apartment. Your face is almost against the glass until a hand slams against it, the shock and surprise of it all making you fall on your ass with a loud scream. As soon as you look up, the hand is gone. You're too scared to even process you're in the 32th floor of the building.

''Did I scare you, princesa?'' The voice on the phone asks, and your suspicions are now confirmed.

''Asshole!'' You yell at your boyfriend through the phone, hand in your heart as you try your best to calm down knowing no unknown creep was the one bothering you. The man on the phone lets out a soft snicker, the familiar sound somehow making your nerves calm down slowly, but surely.

''Lo siento, mi amor. You looked so pretty.'' Miguel praises, the voice changer now turned off as you can hear his soft breathing picking up, slowly getting louder once you get up from the floor, rubbing your sore ass with a small frown from his scare.

''You looking at me right now?'' You ask curiously, looking out of the window again, yet you can't see anyone. He mutters a small ''mhm'', breathing getting louder as his mic starts to pick up soft wet sounds. You raise an eyebrow at this, slightly confused until you realize what's going on.

''You disgusting pervert.'' You accuse jokingly and he laughs softly, the fingers around his hard cock teasing the tip, smearing his precum all over it while he looks at you from afar. Oh, how he wishes your much smaller fingers were the one working him up and down, rather than his big, calloused hands. He's busy with work, though, and only has a few minutes before he's bothered again by his duty as Spider-Man.

''Mucha ropa.'' He teases you, the corners of his plump lips curling up when he sees you laugh, his right hand working faster up and down his dick at the image of you looking happy. He can't help it- you're too damn pretty, he'd do anything to keep that smile on your face. You roll your eyes, stepping a bit away from the window as you put the phone on speaker, making a show out of stripping of your clothes.

''Is this good enough?'' You ask teasingly, hand slowly trailing down your stomach as heat begins to pool up when you listen to his breath hitch, the wet sounds coming from the speaker getting louder and faster.

''Touch yourself for me.'' He growls out, his palm spreading the precum leaking like a faucet all over the tip of his cock, eyes slightly narrowed at the sensation as he sees your hand disappear inside your underwear, your pretty, whiny moans becoming pure music to his ears. He starts to jerk himself off again, the sounds of your mixed heavy breathing and moans mixing in, yet he's holding back, trying his best not to get the attention of anyone that might be nearby.

''I wish you were here.'' You moan out, digits dipping deeper into your cunt as you can feel just how much you need Miguel, how much your pussy truly needs to be filled by him, and him only. ''I'd be sucking that dick so good.'' All shame goes out the window when you drape your body on the couch, fingers lazily going in and out of your cunt as your other hand rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves above your dripping hole.

''Yeah?'' He asks between deep groans and heavy breaths, red eyes fully focused on the sight of you pleasuring yourself. You look like a work of art in his eyes, and you truly are. Hair slightly messy, a thin layer of sweat painting each perfect curve, and fingers disappearing in and out of yourself, a loud and lewd squelching sound bouncing off the walls and coming out of his phone.

''Mhm...'' You moan out, nodding your head as if he was there, yet you know he can still see you. ''Need you so bad, Miggy... are you coming home soon?'' His line goes quiet for a few seconds and you stop masturbating, suddenly worrying for him. The sight of a bundle of colors appearing in the middle of the living room almost blinding you, the familiar behemoth frame clawing his way out of the portal.

''I'm here, amor.''

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel 2099 #atsv #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara #spiderman atsv #miguel x you #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you

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mcflymemes · 6 months

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AS SAID BY IRON BULL * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

hey, don't top from the bottom.

next time you're free, why don't you come grab a drink?

didn't figure you were the kind to bed your way to power.

love is all starlight and gentle blushes. passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.

do you want your silky underthings back, or did you leave those like a token?

you're the toughest, wisest, most beautiful person i've ever met.

these big muscled hands could tear those robes off you while you struggled, helpless in my grip.

i will never hurt you without your permission. you will always be safe.

you don't need to be afraid... unless you want to.

you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing, and you're inclined to do the forbidden...

you want to watch, don't you?

make sure you undress him with your eyes... respectfully.

i'd offer to help you get rid of that frustration but, you know... i'm in a committed relationship.

next time we're alone, i'm going to pin you down and do things your body won't believe.

all that crap made sense to you?

i can't tell you how proud i'm gonna be, watching you out there, addressing them... with this big, old love bite on your neck.

wait, i'll flex a little for you. make it easier.

that staff's in pretty good shape. do you spend a lot of time polishing it?

i can see you don't want to talk about it. bet you looked good doing it, though.

how do you manage that while staring up at everyone's ass the whole time?

you and i are fine as long as you don't do any weird crap.

i'd pin you down, and as you gripped me, i... would... conquer... you.

oh, for shit's sake.

good. i like that energy. stoke those fires, big guy.

all i'm saying is... you ever want to explore that, my door's always open.

worked that out on your own, did you?

you're not as flashy as most mages.

wait, did you "forget" them so you'd have an excuse to come back? you sly dog.

i didn't say it was healthy.

you don't actually like thinking about hurting people, do you?

if you do that, everyone knows you're a spy.

still waiting for me to do something sneaky and spy-like?

we probably won't try down to burn down a city this time.

really not sad i missed that one.

you're lucky then. it was awful.

you only lack the will to get more blood on your hands?

enjoying the great outdoors?

this area's low on dancing girls, sadly.

i've always liked fighting.

i'm not sure you know what you're asking. not sure if you're ready for it.

well, that's a fucking relief.

i'm fine. hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed.

so, you going to let me have it, [name]? or do i get to wait and wonder?

you really kicked the crap outta that guy.

it's pretty hot where we're from.

it's not a secret. it's just too big for a quit chat.

you get that thing i asked about?

maybe you should stand in front of me.

you ever get the asses mixed up?

you're a damn fine marksman.

i fell on a guy who tried to stab me in the gut.

all right, now you're just making it weird.

nobody fights well when their clothes are on fire.

i... didn't mean to offend you.

that hurts, [name]. that's hurtful.

i may have done it a couple of times on purpose.

i cold 'cause it freezes them, and then they break into little bits when i chop them in half.

with the magic, do you prefer fire, or lightning, or cold, or what?

you don't need to worry. i have no intention of trying to leash anyone.

are you gonna write me into one of your stories?

it's just daring somebody to try to attack it.

when that breaks, you fix it. like we're doing now.

in theory, they're no different from anyone else.

anyone who takes that burden and lives a good life with it has many respect.

you're pretty tall for a human.

the bloodstains are good for scaring enemies.

could you make it sound angrier? "love" is a bit soft.

tell me more about the coat.

i don't need a book to remind me that the world is full of horrible crap.

you're really good with that bow.

it's just friendly. i won't step in your business.

what i'm saying is, please stop stealing my kills.

we should get shirts. probably need different sizes.

i think you're confusing. how can you just pick and choose what parts you believe in?

you know, i really like hitting things.

who has sex smelling like roses?

hey, i don't hate you. you and me? we're good.

hey, no-pants fridays is a cause.

it's a difficult thing you've done, turning your back on one life to live another.

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miraclesabound · 1 year

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That Hits The Spot

Summary: You wonder what Shoresy means when he tells someone he'll be good to them, and you get a demo.

Pairing: Shoresy/F!Reader, background Shoresy/Laura Mohr.

Notes: The lack of Shoresy x Reader fics baffles me, so I decided to add some enrichment to the tag! Also on AO3.

Warnings: Canon-typical language, mention of injuries, alcohol consumption, unrequited (?) romantic interest, Shoresy is NOT a licensed massage therapist

Tags: @pettyprocrastination @magpie-to-the-morning

"Hey Shoresy?"

"Yeah?"

"Got a question for ya." You're sprawled out on his sofa while he grabs a beer for each of you from the fridge. For once, the apartment is quiet - the others are out doing God knows what, and Shoresy told you he doesn't expect them back for hours. "Heard you say something to Laura Mohr and been ponderin' it."

Shoresy snorts. "Didn't your parents tell ya it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations?"

He comes over and sits down, and you grab your beer from him. "How can I not when you're declaring your eternal devotion for the whole stadium to hear, ya nut??" He's already opened your bottle for you, and you take a long sip.

"Nah, but really," you continue, "I heard you tell her 'I swear to God I'd be so good to ya' and I just...wondered what that actually meant?"

He shrugs as he settles into one of the side chairs. " 'S not that complex," he says. "Just, ya know, the standard stuff - foot massages at the end of the day, helpin' her with the kids, glass o' wine or hooch if she wants it...bein' present, you get it."

"I do," you admit. "Sounds fuckin' divine, in fact."

"Ya say that like ya don't have it right now."

Damn him, he's observant. "Nope," you tell him. "This old girl's gotta handle things on her own - which isn't easy when I've managed to fuck up my back and neck." You wince as you sit up. "Doesn't help that every damn chiropractor in this town is booked up."

"Maybe I can fix it?" Shoresy asks. "C'mon, make room..." Before you can stop him, he sits down next to you and has you turn your back to him. "Specific spots or is the whole column fuckin' with ya?"

"Neck, shoulders and lower back."

"Gotcha." He starts with your shoulders, huffing in annoyance when he feels the tension there. "Holy fuck, woman, you been sleepin' on a rock pile?"

You chuckle at his indignation. "Might as well - I think the bed at my place is older than I am."

"Swear to God I'm gonna kick your landlord's ass for that," Shoresy mutters, mostly to himself.

The idea of Shoresy getting protective over you makes your stomach flip - he's never talked that way before. To avoid analyzing that feeling, you crack a joke: "Less vengeance talk and more spinal realignment, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah...lemme just...." He digs a thumb into a sore spot and you yelp.

"Shoresy, what the fuck!"

"Cool your jets, 'm tryin' to find where the actual muscle pull is..." He keeps poking, and you're about to stand up from the couch and shove him away when he lets out a noise of triumph. "Found it!"

"You're full of shit, man, I- oh!" Your protest cuts off as you slump into him - the sudden lack of stiffness in your shoulder makes you feel like a popped balloon.

He makes sure to catch you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. "Told ya I could fix it. Want me to get the rest?" You nod, and within five minutes, your whole back feels better than it has in ages.

"How ya feelin'?" he asks as your eyes close.

"Fuckin' divine," you tell him. "I'll give Laura my endorsement for you first thing in the morning..."

You drift off on his chest, so you don't know if you actually hear him say "No rush..." or if it was just your imagination.

#shoresy x reader #shoresy spoilers #shoresy

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sweetestpjm · 1 year

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Shift in the Balance PT. 1

Yoonmin est + Yoonminkook ; Football start chunky jk, Soft Jm & lovesick Yoongs <3 First time posting a story here, let me know how I'm doing lool

It's 8 o'clock, and Yoongi had been watching that damn old clock on the wall all day. Eagerly waiting to go home, though, now was finally the time. Of course not on the dot-- he'd never be lucky enough to, perhaps no one would be beside the son of his boss who easily was favoured, couldn't blame him, though.

He could suffer through cleaning the tables, hurting his sore back even more. Suffer as he threw out the uneaten food of the last guests, and gathering a bag of what he could take home-- a decently hearty amount, though less then usual as business had been better then ever that day. It isn't as bad as most, but he knows he's being dramatic about mopping the kitchen area when his younger coworkers are eying him. They're the dramatic ones..not him. It's odd to them, but he felt he had every reason. Why did he have to be working, when he could be at home with his boyfriend?

It was a shame, really, but he'd gotten used to the dynamic as much as he hated not seeing him for more then minute. He was needier then he'd ever admit aloud, it seemed.

The sign was flipped over, from open to closed— Yoongi still wondered why they had that pesky sign. Locking the door and turning off the lights was enough. He guessed it was to maintain the rustic and old look of the place, the reason why it gained traction was partially because of that. Like a trip back on time, with good food and bathrooms that was the only relatively modern looking section of the place.

Yoongi quite liked his job, it was decent hours and some perks. Discounts, bringing food home and such— which helped knock off money from groceries. He was a head chef, so his hours were a little longer but he made more and wasn't as worked to the core when he'd just been a regular kitchen staff. He directed them, but of course he did some other things too— especially on weekends and Fridays, their busiest time of the year. Sometimes, he'd get lucky enough that his boyfriend would pop in on one of those days and Yoongi would usually wait him— he could manage it quite wel since that had been his gateway up into his current job. Perhaps he'd been in every position, but he couldn't quite recall.

What was important was turning on the ignition, and getting himself home before the food got cold. Food never tasted the same reheated, but he knew well enough that if he had to; doing it in the oven or a pot was better then microwaving it.

There's already a few pings at his phone from him, and he can already picture the whiny tone that came with every message. Wanting him home. It warmed his heart, and he wished the traffic would seize to exist.

Though, alas— no, thankfully, he arrived home around 9:30, which was a little more then usual but considering it was clean up after a large party of adults, it added up.

With a huff of relief, he entered their apartment, placing the food on the counter, sliding his shoes onto the rack and putting on his slippers.

Instantly— the moment he had his slippers on, he was greeted from behind with a hug. None other then his boyfriend, especially since the hug was so soft against his back. Jimin had always given the best of hugs.

"Welcome home to me," Yoongi chuckled, placing his hands over Jimin's that went around his torso, "you smell nice. Freshened up before I came?"

Jimin hummed, the sound vibrating against Yoongi's back as he had his cheek firmly pressed up against it. "I was sweaty from work," he said, moving one hand to interlock with Yoongi's, "and I wanted to be clean for you,"

"Cute. Though, I am pretty stinky myself," he sighed, thumb rubbing along the backside of Jimin's hand, "how about you set the table, and I'll clean myself up?"

There's a whine of complaint, but Jimin complies and Yoongi gets along to his aforementioned shower.

Once he's out, he's graced by Jimin bent over with an elbow on the table, whilst the other plucked at the different dishes with chopsticks. It was cute, how he sometimes just couldn't resist food like that. Leaving him there with it was like asking him to eat it.

Well..he sort of had been, he assumed he was probably pretty hungry as he usually didn't get much during the day at work. Since he'd only just gotten the job, his work was more intense and harder in his job.

He worked as a aesthetician and was more organizing carts, cleaning the areas and beds for the main ones. It wasn't what he'd dreamt it out to be, that was for certain. He knew it'd take time and practice for him to actually work on a person for more then just their bill for the treatment. But still, he enjoyed taking home samples and sick of products he couldn't yet afford. Using on himself and Yoongi too, as pampering was a large part of both his and Yoongi's love language.

A huge part of it.

Yoongi slides his chair out, sitting down, watching Jimin's sweetly round cheeks flare up pink as he's caught. Which does happen quite a lot, once Yoongi thinks about it-- it's nearly like he's entranced every time he eats. Especially when it comes to the dishes Yoongi makes or brings home for him.

"Hyung, you took sooo long," it had only been five minutes, so the statement only made Yoongi laugh in entertainment, shaking his head as he put some of the food on his own plate. Jimin did the same, about the same amount as Yoongi had.

"I'm here now though, aren't I? Eat your food," he chuckles, jutting his foot at Jimin's leg, "I know you're hungry."

Jimin hums, glancing at his plate and beginning to eat. "Well-- yeah. Work is so hard," he groaned, half in frustration and half in enjoying the delicious meal, "I think my boss likes me, she made me help the nicer lady. Maybe I'll be the one giving treatments, soon."

Yoongi grins, quite proud of him. He'd been there since he'd gotten the job not long ago, moping about feeling like he was useless at the job. Though, it had moved along to him rambling about his coworkers, all pretty kind aside from one of the higher up aestheticians; she was a blunt bitch, as Jimin had said, and was very skilled but extremely rude. Jimin had been assigned to her a few times, and it was sure to say that Yoongi was whined to to bring a pint of ice cream for him to mope about it with. "I'm sure you will be. I'll make sure to be your first booking, I'll book the longest treatment you have so you impress everyone," he said, unable to peel the grin off his face. What? He was a proud boyfriend.

It's enough that Jimin's covering his face with the hand that isn't feeding himself, giggling and shaking his head. "Aish-- you're so embarrassing," he grumbles, though he hardly means it. Yoongi knows just how much he'd want that, whether he'd actually admit it or not.

"Mm, but seriously I'm proud of you. I'm not surprised she likes you, you're sweet and good at what you do...even if for now it's washing hand towels and fixing spa beds, Minnie," he says, picking up his last tteokbokki and eating it, "proud."

"Corny, but, thank you." The words mean a lot to him, Yoongi can tell in the way he shyly distracts himself by finishing up his plate and silently picking at the rest of the food on the table as Yoongi rambles on. Something about a new younger employee who he doesn't hate (shocker, since he usually hates the young ones) along with a food reviewer coming in and rating the food well. This and that until Jimin's declared himself full and they're packing away the minimal leftovers (thanks to Jimin).

Yoongi pauses, leaning against the counter to watch Jimin bend over to peer down at their freezer. Getting an eyeful of his full hips and sweet behind, and he's certain that he's pouting out his lower lip in thought as he glances at his options. "Do I need an ice cream sandwich or a melona is the question..." Jimin mumbles to himself, finding that Yoongi answers it by poking at the pudge poking out on his hips, "ice cream sandwich, it is."

He pulls out a large ice cream sandwich, it's an Oreo one though. Since he's civilized, he's put it in a bowl and grabbed a spoon to eat it without looking like an Oreo ice cream sandwich after.

With ease despite his fullness, he plops onto the couch with Yoongi following along, placing him on his lap. It was Jimin's spot, after all. Though, he wiggles a little to get comfortable (and tease Yoongi, but he didn't need to know that) and begins on the sweet cool treat. Yoongi leans back a little, Jimin following the movement and humming in content as Yoongi has his arms wrapped around him, holding him closer.

His hands sink in a little, acknowledging the plushness of his boyfriend. He quite likes it, it's made him a better cuddle and just feels-- soft. What's better then something warm and soft? Nothing. There quite literally is not anything better then that.

"Want a bite?" Jimin queries, turning his head back to look at him, a small sliver of the ice cream sandwich on his spoon. Yoongi declines, and quite quickly the spoonful has gone to Jimin. And another. And another. And yet another, until the bowl is empty and he's scrapping the sides for bits of the melting ice cream.

It's cute, the way they were able to just sit and bask in each others company. Even if it just ensued Jimin gorging on sweets or watching a show Yoongi liked but Jimin found to be boring. They just, simply, enjoyed one another so very much.

After a few minutes, the bowl and spoon are washed and they're in their bedroom preparing for bed-- it's early, but they know themselves. Chatting for hours in bed, and sleep ensues a few hours after deciding to get ready to rest for the night. It's silly, but it's how they are.

Yoongi's long been in his pyjamas, consisting of some sweats and a loose tee, while Jimin had chosen (strangely) some jeans and an oversized hoodie.

Jimin huffed, trying to undo the button. Failing multiple times before it gave in, and the zipper undid itself as his plush tummy took in the space, allowing Jimin more room to breath and sigh aloud in relief. "Why would you wear jeans..."

The younger shrugged, pink tinting his cheeks as he removed his pants, replacing them with new boxers and switching the hoodie out for an oversized tee. "Because."

"Because?"

Another shrug, dimming the lights and crawling into the bed, tucking himself under the blankets with Yoongi, an arm draped over his chest as he pressed himself against his side. With ease, Yoongi was holding him right back, peppering kisses all over the side of his face, primarily on his cheeks though. Soft and full, how could he not pepper them in sweet kisses? "Weirdo."

He doesn't shrug, he only giggles and the topic is averted, moving onto what they should do tomorrow on their first off day together in two weeks.

Yoongi's sure he's up first, arm around Jimin's soft middle, lazily pressing his fingers against the plushness there. It's a little new, though as long as he's known Jimin he'd always been a little softer and cuddlier-- though, now he was certain this was he softest he'd ever been while knowing him. Or ever, really, considering he'd seen photos of him younger, in which he wasn't so lean but surely smaller then now. Far smaller then now.

But, he knows he isn't the only one awake when Jimin's giggles fill the air. "Hyung-- that tickles," he huffs, turning to face him, leaving Yoongi's arm to drape over his back, choosing to rub the small of his back instead.

"I thought you weren't awake," Yoongi grumbles, the only way he can talk in the morning. it was either that, or a whisper-- which would still have that grumble to it that sent butterflies straight to Jimin's belly.

"So, what, you just tickle my tummy when I'm asleep?" Jimin chuckles, enjoying the way Yoongi's flustered at that, "hmm? Answer me, hyung."

The elder shakes his head, closing his eyes and mimicking a snore. "Hyung! You do, don't you?" he's whining, so Yoongi can't get out of it now, meekly nodding his head as he pressed against his chest.

"Yes, okay?"

Jimin hummed, threading his fingers through Yoongi's hair. "I'm not accusing you, I'm just curious. It's...dunno, nice to know you want to touch me even if I'm not asking for it," he says, mumbling the last few words.

Though there's something else to it-- something deeper, but Yoongi can't seem to find it on his own. "I do love your body, Minnie," he murmured, pressing his thumb against his love handles, "I think you're so pretty."

"Really?"

"Pft, really, love. Something about you lately is just so..." his brows furrow, wracking his mind for the word, "radiant? In just every way, really. Not that you weren't before, but, I don't know. Something just changed, in a good way."

Jimin keeps threading his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to think. "Well, hm..thank you. I-- well," he bites his lip, "I'm glad you still like my body."

"Mm, never think that I don't. 2 sizes up or down, I'll love you all the same."

"Even 3 sizes up?"

"You-- you know what I meant, yah," Yoongi groaned, rolling out of bed, flattening out his shirt, "we do have plans today, slipped my mind. We're going to Taehyung's school to watch the football game there."

All he hears is Jimin groaning, and the sound of the covers moving to cover Jimin entirely. A muffled, "not Football..." But Yoongi didn't listen, pulling the covers entirely off him with a chuckle, and walking on off to the washroom while leaving Jimin too stunned to utter a word.

Until he's pouting, blow drying his hair and side-eying Yoongi as though saying 'the things I do for you' like watching a university football game is the worst thing imaginable.

"You won't die. I'll be there, Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin and Namjoon will be there, too," Yoongi assures, though Jimin's pout only intensifies, setting down his blow dryer and taking the plug out of the outlet.

"I will die. Hyung, sports are so boring."

It's clear to see, although he had been into track many years before-- that had slowly turned into something he hated due to others. But, despite it, he still hates it all. Even attending his cousins house league basketball games makes his stomach churn with distaste. All that makes it somewhat bearable is--

"What about this-- I get you the biggest popcorn there is and a soda, hm?" Jimin raised an eyebrow, surely the deal was sweetened with that-- but, he needed a little more convincing. "Fine, you can sit on my lap. Refills on it all as many times as you'd like, okay? But you can't complain after that."

With a sly grin on his lips, he nodded, "mm, I guess it's a deal, Yoongi-hyung."

Jimin keeps himself clung to Yoongi in the food-stand line, not understanding how a university has it's own food venders but perhaps it was just because his did not engage in many sports in those days. There was an on-campus gym, but that was about it. Though, he was also wondering why it took so long to wait, and why the line for a university football game was so long. He was hungry, having missed breakfast by sleeping and they'd nearly been late so they couldn't have gotten any food, much to Jimin's avail.

"Hungry?" Yoongi asks, seeing how Jimin's pouting just a little bit. Practically on cue, his stomach lets out a rumble, loud enough that Yoongi hears it from beside him. The arm around his waist snakes a little further, pressing against the softness of Jimin's newly formed tummy pooch of his lower belly.

He nods, though he knows his body has already answered, rudely, for him. "I didn't even have breakfast," Jimin sulked, "and we're at a football gam-- I mean, my favourite place in the world."

Laughing, Yoongi shakes his head-- quite fond of Jimin's good-hearted sarcasm. At least he tried to take on his end of the deal to some extent.

"Hyung!" Taehyung shouts, though he's a few feet away, slowly making his way over through the crowd of people, sure to draw lots of attention to himself through his over-the-top attire and loud deep voice. Jimin ducks his head, and Yoongi's shaking his, wondering how he couldn't have expected that, even though it is Taehyung. Natural demander of attention.

"Hi Taehyung-ah," Yoongi says, hand mindlessly squeezing at the pudginess of Jimin's waist, causing him to squeak against him, "excuse him, he can't function without breakfast. Clearly."

"Clearly. Jiminie hyung needs food to be sane," Taehyung giggles, joining them in the line, staring ahead at the 3 people in front of them, "the food isn't bad here, actually. Popcorn's always fresh and the fries are perfect."

Jimin's head perks up, looking up at Yoongi, his puppy dog eyes out on display for him.

"How am I supposed to deny him anything when he looks like that," Yoongi says, looking over at Taehyung who seems equally convinced merely by Jimin's eyes.

"I will kill you if you don't get him everything he wants, Min Yoongi. I may like you, but a well fed Jiminie comes first," Taehyung says, giving Jimin's tummy a poke, almost gasping as it dips in far more then it ever had before. His eyes meet Jimin's, smiling at him and getting a smile right back (since, the eyes had already worked the magic on his meal).

Yoongi rolled his eyes, waiting and waiting whilst the younger two spoke. Taehyung complaining about classes but also thrilled about his designing project, where he gets to design two pieces that would suit both men and women, a gender neural fashion project (apparently nothing gets him going more then that). While Jimin tries to make the best of his current job, rambling on about all the products and discounts, even adding in that he uses it to give Yoongi facials (which somehow gets Yoongi blushing quite a lot).

Eventually, it's their turn, ordering the biggest basket of popcorn, large fries and a drink for each of them. Water for himself, soda for Jimin and Taehyung.

Finding their seats right as someone's talking into the microphone, greeting their friends and all eyes are on the field.

Not Jimin's, too busy gorging but after some time he does find his eyes on the field out of pure boredom. Even with Yoongi's arms around him (which is usually enough to distract him from anything), he finds himself paying attention to the game.

Well, sort of, he's paying attention to a particular player. Player 01. He doesn't know if he's good or not, but he sure as hell knows that he's cute and definitely built.

They're all sturdy and strong looking, but 01 is just...a little different. Gorgeously thick, and toned, thighs, that are practically ready to burst out of his uniform every time he's bending down at the beginning of each quarter of the game. He's got a bit of a tummy, though he can tell he's toned, it's there enough that the small protruding pooch of it that presses against his uniform in a little bump. Again, his arms are thick and his biceps are remarkably strong. Jimin's nearly bitting his tongue every time the ball is in his hand, even cheering with Yoongi (and everyone else) when he scores.

By the end of the game, he can surely call himself a fanboy. So distracted, that he'd just barely finished the food from the beginning, from nearly 2 hours before, in that two hours (with a little help, too).

Yoongi doesn't say anything, not wanting to think more then that he was right about football being enjoyable enough that Jimin hadn't only been focused on the food. Though, he isn't too sure about why until Jimin's desperately following Taehyung down to the locker rooms to meet Taehyung's boyfriend there (his name was Han) and Yoongi was curious and confused. He wasn't too sure what to pin Jimin's enjoyment to, just yet.

"Did you enjoy the game?" Han asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead, halfway out of the locker room door, enough that he was able to kiss the side of Taehyung's head, "it was a tough one, we got so lucky with Jungkook's scoring on the last second."

Yoongi nodded, "that guy was fast as hell, it was a close game. Good job, I enjoyed it. Jimin enjoyed it too, and he does not like foo--"

Jimin shakes his head, "it was amazing! I really enjoyed it, I'm happy to have been invited."

Silence crawled but Han filled it, "glad to hear it. Uh, did you guys wanna come in or could you wait a bit for us to finish up? We don't take long, I swear." The latter is chosen, more for the sake of Han not wanting Taehyung to see other very hot sweaty football guys, though. It's cute.

"You enjoyed a football game? Well, there's a first for everything," Taehyung laughed, swaying as he now back hugged Jimin, poking his fingers along his soft belly, "or maybe you liked one of the players?~"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. "The team's definitely not ugly. They could be an idol group based off looks," he hummed, noting how Jimin's head tilted in interest, so he continued on, "not bad, not bad at all. Are they all over 23?"

"Oh yes-- aside from the short one, he's 21. Really good, though, good friend of Han's. Why? Are you two--" Taehyung gasps, arms tightening around Jimin which has Jimin wincing, "sorry-- I meant, are you two finally in search of a third?"

"What? N--"

"Maybe," Jimin says, pursing his lips and loosening Taehyung's arms around his taunt full gut, "I, just-- thought, maybe."

Taehyung giggles, "I think you hadn't communicated that to hyung yet, Minnie~"

Jimin huffs, "no, I guess not. Hyung, I've been thinking about it lately."

"Well, I have too but I didn't think we were just admitting it to Taehyung randomly," he says, shaking his head, "let's talk later? I think the-"

A stampede, a stampede of ab-bearing (aside from one) men are coming out in a Hurd out of the change room. Some say their goodbyes, something about classes being soon while a few others stay. And among those, it's Player 01, in all his sturdy chunky glory. Jimin can't think straight, Taehyung's arms now around Jimin while Yoongi kept his hand interlocked loosely with Jimin's chubby stubby one.

"Okay. Names," Taehyung says, squinting as he glances at the four men that have joined them, "Sunghoon." He nods, making himself noted to everyone. "J-- no, yes, Jeongin?" Jeongin nods, laughing a little bit at the expression on Taehyung's face. "Fuck-- you're Jungkook?" Jungkook nods, and it's him-- Player 01, now he knows that it's Jungkook. The last of them is Jihoon, but Jimin's distracted by trying to subtly look at Jungkook while the others disperse into conversation. But-- not so much to his avail, he's caught.

"Jimin, right?" Jimin doesn't know how he knows his name, but he nods dumbly in response. "Jungkook. Yoongi's friend?"

Jimin laughs, "boyfriend. He dragged me out here, but-- I'm friends with Taehyung."

"Well, figures-- he talks about you whenever he's here, actually. I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity," Jungkook jokes, having Jimin descend into giggles, so, he continues on, "but it's nice to meet you. Guessing you're not a football fan then, since they had to drag you? Hm?"

It takes a surprisingly large amount of energy out of him to not say that Jungkook could make him football fan, or even a fucking fanboy, for Christs sake. But he doesn't, sparing himself the inevitable embarrassment of that. Instead, nodding at his questions, "yeah, but it's not too bad... I'm easily bribed with food, so." He feels his life flash before his eyes-- forgetting how chubby he'd gotten, shy to advertise attention to his body. He knows he isn't very big, even with how heartily he eats he only gains enough for a small squishy tummy, a round bubble butt and thighs that were snug in all his jeans. Including the ones he had on now, painfully digging into his midsection, especially after all he'd eaten and drank.

But, to his surprise, Jungkook doesn't give him a weird stare or even assess his body. Simply, he just adds onto it, "pft, that's the same for me. I can't ever resist some good food, like, ever. Ever."

"It's so good," Jimin says, nearly whining, "what kind of stuff do you like, Jungkook-ah?"

Jungkook hums, fixing his hair out of his face with one hand while the other carried his medium sized duffel bag. "Good question. Anything, really. I have a really big sweet tooth though, so I really like ice cream, boba and that kind of stuff. But I love meat and spicy food. the fries they sell at the stand--"

"Taehyung told me, so I got them. Really yummy," Jimin says, unconsciously rubbing small circles into the bloat of his tummy.

The comment makes Jungkook smile. "Yeah, so good. But what do you like?"

"Oh.." Jimin bites the inside of his cheek, as though this is the most difficult question of his life (it could be, he loved food so much and so many different foods.). "Tteokbokki is my favourite. Uhm, well, Yoongi-hyung works at a restaurant so whatever he brings is the best. But I really like pastries. There's this little cafe near my apartment and they have the best sweets. They even have some frozen yoghurt, too, when I feel like a treat but also..somewhat healthy."

It's more then half an hour and Jungkook's phone buzzes loudly, a reminder that this next class was in half an hour.

"I really enjoyed talking with you. Maybe sometime we can go to that cafe?" Jungkook asks, hope in his eyes, though he sees Yoongi looking at them, trying to assess the situation. Naturally, his face makes him look like he's angry though Jimin ( not Jungkook) knows damn well he's endeared more then anything.

"Yes! I mean, yes, sure," he giggles, taking Jungkook's phone from him to add in his number to his contacts, "don't miss your class! It was nice meeting you."

Jungkook nods, smiling as he tucks his phone into his pants, pulling his pants up over his exposed tummy before giving a small bow and running off with a loud. "Cya!"

Yoongi slurping his drink at the cafe is enough for Jimin to note that something's up.

"What is it?" he asks, voice soft, interlocking his hand with Yoongi's-- not liking how it was nervously picking at his skin, "what's up, hyung?"

The elder looks at him, his other hand mindlessly stirring his black coffee. "I wanna talk about earlier. About looking for a third, Jimin," he said, caressing the backside of Jimin's pudgy hand, "I wanna know what you want, okay?"

"Ah, hyung. I just always though it'd be nice, ever since we talked about it before. Just another in the mix. To care for and all," he said, shrugging, "and for you to cuddle."

"Jungkook."

"Hm?"

"You were thinking about it because of Jungkook. He was the only reason you were watching the game so intently, huh?" Yoongi teased, tracing along Jimin's hand, "I'm just guessing. But, I think I'm right." Those red-glowing cheeks were always a dead giveaway on Jimin's end.

Jimin whined, swinging his legs around and shrugging. "Well..I, I don't know."

"He's pretty cute."

The brunette tilted his head, "...yes. You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. He's cute, super intense on the field but out of the changing room he seemed sweet. I mean, if you two ever shut up I might've been able to say more then hello, y'know," Yoongi laughed, shaking his head, "I don't wonder if he likes guys but..not everyone is fine with being with more then one person. And even so, usually more as an open relationship--"

"Which this isn't."

"Correct, this isn't. But, if you want to, we get to know him better together. I heard a mention of that cafe you love, mm?"

#bts feederism #bts chubby #chubby jimin #chubby bt5 #soft jimin #soft jungkook #chubby jungkook #chunky jungkook #squish jm #squishy jimin #yoonminkook #yoonmin #yoonkook #jikook #bt5 feederism #feedee jm #feeder yg

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casspurrjoybellbittner · 3 months

Text

Wreckless - Hurts so good

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I'm whimpering because it feels so good that I don't know what else to do.

Is it too much? Almost. Do I love it? Yes. So much.

Even more than I thought I would.

I don't think I've ever trusted anyone enough to restrain me like this without it causing me to freak out and get pissed off.

With Emmett it's doing wonderful things to my head and my imagination is running wild.

"You feel so good Finn, perfect."

He's loving it too, I can tell.

His dirty talk is the best I've ever heard and he is talking almost non-stop.

It's wonderful but it's also making it really hard to not beg him to get me off.

I wish he could flood my ass but I'll pretend, I'll pretend like he's shooting deep when he finally shoots.

He's giving me the fuck of my life and I hope I get a few more minutes of this.

"Not good, not good Em."

He grabs my hair and tilts my head back.

"Shut up. Tell me it's good, tell me you love my cock because it'll be true soon, my baby boy. I'm going to fuck you as many times as it takes for you to learn to love it."

Oh dear fucking God. Yes, yes.

I have tears in my eyes and I have no doubt that with as hard as he's riding my ass I will be sore tomorrow but for the first time ever I don't care.

I'm almost looking forward to it in a twisted way.

Either way it'll be worth it.

I wonder if he'll make good on his promise, if we can do this again because I love it.

I love everything he does to me.

"Admit it, tell me," he demands, driving deep with each word.

"I... Em. Em please, no, no."

I know what he wants to hear but I'm not going to give it to him, he'll have to fuck me hard again and maybe then I'll give in.

He smacks my ass and it hurts but it's also perfect.

"No, stop."

I put all my energy into trying to get away from his assault and kick one of my legs out.

"Ungrateful little slut."

He yanks me back, wrapping his arm around my chest and pinning me down.

His entire weight is on me which means he feels amazing but can't thrust quite as hard but it's okay, it's still perfect.

"I'm sorry Em, I'm sorry."

"I know you are but not enough to behave yourself. A few dozen more fucks like this and you'll be begging for my cock. You'll be aching for it, addicted to having your little ass filled but you don't know that yet, you don't understand what a good little boy is. That's okay darling, I'll teach you. You'll learn how to take good care of my cock."

Dozens, yes. God if he's serious I may actually get as addicted as he thinks.

At least when I'm little, little me loves this.

Hell, this is the best sex I've ever had.

"I.. I want to be good. I want to make you feel good Em. Teach me."

"I know you do baby and that's enough. You have to trust me, okay? It may hurt now but you need this, you need my cock filling you, stretching you. Enjoy it, that feeling means that daddy is feeling good."

I am going to explode, I want to come so damn bad and he's talking like that and...

"Em. Please, I need..."

You to stop? No, more.

Fuck, please get rough with me again.

I want him pounding my ass like before when I try to squeeze around him and shoot.

"I'm going to give you a little test Finn, let's see if you really want to be good. Get up on all fours just like in the tub. Can you do that for daddy?"

He moves with me and we manage to get upright.

"Like this?"

"Hmm, perfect. Now I'm gonna fuck you really hard, baby boy. I'm gonna shoot deep in your ass just like I do your throat and you're gonna take it, aren't you? It'll just be a few minutes, I promise and if you stay right here I'll make you feel good. Can you do that?"

God, he's gonna jack me off and I'm gonna get my wish granted.

"I'll try Em, I want to be a good boy."

He squeezes my cock, hard, then strokes me twice.

"That's it, that's my sweet boy. I'm going to hurt you now, babe but you'll love it. Be brave for me, okay?"

I am panting hard and he's not even fucking me.

He probably needed the break and it means this build-up is gonna be long and hard and

"Do it Em, fuck me."

"Oh I'm going to. It's okay if you cry, Finn, you do whatever you need to if it helps. We can snuggle after, okay?"

"Okay Em, I'm ready."

He chuckles.

"No you're not but you're getting it anyway."

He's right, I'm not ready.

He slams in deep and is relentless, pummeling me so hard I really can barely hold myself up.

He's jacking me off and even though it actually does hurt a bit more than I usually like it to, it's perfect and I sure as hell don't want him to stop which means I should beg him to.

"Em no, no please. It hurts, Em. It hurts."

"I'm so close, fuck Finn, yes, take my cock you little tease, take it."

I have no choice and I don't want one.

He's hard and close and gets frantic.

It's so intense that I can't come at first, my body tries and then ramps up even harder and when I finally fall over the cliff I come so hard that every muscle in my body contracts and I scream as he pushes my head into the pillow.

Wave after wave hits me as he keeps pushing me further into the couch.

"That's it, that's what you need. Scream all you want baby. I'm gonna seed this sweet ass, yes, I'm... yes."

He collapses on top of me and moans into my ear as he shoots.

It's sexy as fuck.

"Damn Finn, such a good boy."

"Did I do good Em?"

He pulls out and rolls over, taking off the condom before pulling me up against him.

"So good. I'm sorry I had to hurt you but it's for your own good, I promise."

He pushes my hair off my forehead and kisses it.

"I'll make it all better, you can have a bath and then I'll let you finish your movie before we go to bed."

"And my story?"

"Of course, darling, of course."

"Emmett?"

"Yes?"

I want a little bit more play and hope he'll give it to me.

I could use some more talk.

I wonder if I can get him to call me a slut again.

He might not, knowing him, he might want to make sure it's okay first.

"My ass feels so funny. I keep squeezing and it feels good but... I don't know, it's weird."

"That's because it misses my cock, babe. I told you, you need it. See?"

"It hurt so much and I hate it but maybe you're right, Em... it feels better now."

"Next time might be a little bit easier but it might take a few for you to get used to me, we'll just have to wait and see."

I can't wait for next time.

"Em?"

"Yes Finn?"

"What's a slut?"

"A slut is a sweet boy who really enjoys being full of cock, Finn. A slut is a good boy who knows how to make his master feel good. Do you want to be my little slut? Hmm?"

"Maybe, maybe I can be a good boy if you keep your promise and fuck me a lot."

Seriously, if we can do this every weekend I will be a happy, happy boy.

"I always keep my promises, Finn."

Good to know.

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

The one where Ethan is pretending

Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)

Word Count | 2071

Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans

***

There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.

Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.

You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.

"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.

"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.

"Oh, not French?"

"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."

"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."

He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.

"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."

"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.

"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."

Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.

"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."

He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.

"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"

No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.

"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.

"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."

He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?

With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.

"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."

Oh, you would.

***

The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.

At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.

It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.

You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.

"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"

Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.

"I'll take the rose and your name, then."

"It's Y/n."

Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.

"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.

"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."

***

It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.

"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.

"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"

What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!

You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.

The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.

As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.

"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"

"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."

"Wait - what?"

He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.

You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.

"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"

While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.

You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.

"I liked pretending."

And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.

You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.

"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."

It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.

#ethan torchio #maneskin #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio fiction #ethan tochio x you #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin fiction #fluff #my writings

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sunpopp · 3 years

Text

Warm to The Touch | {CCH}

→ Summary; it's not often that Chanhee gets sick, but when he does, he's a very big crybaby about it. That, or he really is in as much pain as he says he is—regardless that leaves you to take care of him, and funnily enough, it has its perks.

• WC/genre: 2K of smut + fluff

• Includes/cw: Chanhee being sick and reader taking care of him, no kissies on lips 😔, sub!Chanhee, gn!reader, fingering (m receiving), dick neglection (?), handjobs, brief praise, aftercare

Riding the bus wasn't your favorite thing to do, but it was soothing if you were in the right mood.

Sadly, you weren't. Mostly due to the fact that Chanhee was quite literally blowing up your phone with texts asking how much longer it'd take you to be off the train and on your way with his precious medicine, making you sigh and roll your eyes before shooting him a reply that you'd be there soon, but knowing nothing would calm him down until you were in front of him to prove it.

You can't help but smile.

Chanhee didn't complain much about anything, besides maybe you not helping him with washing the dishes or set the table while he made dinner, but everything else was, at most, a dirty look that softened relatively quickly. Sickness, though, was a whole other ballgame.

He would rant and rave about the tiniest of phantom pains, practically on the male equivalent of his period with the way his mood would get snappy and sour at the slightest inconveniences.

But maybe he really did just have a shit pain tolerance like he'd often hint at. Though it didn't stop you from still being baffled when he'd get a bad cramp in the middle of the night and whine about it until he'd fall asleep again.

Coming back to reality as you glance up to the bus's nearing destination, you stretch lazily and begin to stand, muscles aching from walking all day and back cracking loud enough for you to wonder if other people heard it. The bus slows to a stop before finally lurching against the sidewalk, and you take your leave through the opening doors with an appreciative thanks to the driver.

Almost immediately after you hop down from the steps, a layering of chilly wind washes harshly against your front and the familiar smell of petrichor into your nose, relentless rain droplets against your coat as you begin in a jog in the direction of your apartment. Chanhee must be freezing right now, you think, concern growing even heavier at the visible breaths of air you let out. If he's already got the sniffles, a sore throat, and headaches, he's probably getting worse considering you'd forgotten to turn the heater on before you left.

Stupid mistake.

It takes maybe a couple more minutes, less than it'd take if you were walking like normal, before you're finally at your door, punching in the code for the lock before shouldering it open and kicking off your shoes on the shoe rack. It's cold inside, you can tell by the way your cheeks still feel numb.

"Chanhee! I got your medicine!" Your words echo throughout the hall, spreading out when you keep calling his name as you move farther in; past the open kitchen and to the bedroom door opposite the bathroom.

When you come into the room, Chanhee is still in the bed where he was when you left, but this time, he's sat up, looking at you with hooded eyes and a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. He frowns, "It's about time. While I was here suffering, you were out with your friends. Unbelievable..," he pouts and shakes his head.

With a chuckle and now eased posture, you sit in front of him and set the bag of medicine beside you to check his temperature. He's extremely hot.

"Yeah, well, staying around you while you're sick is enough to drive me crazy so you can't really pin the blame on me for needing to leave. Plus, it's not like you tried to stop me, did you?" You smile at him, standing back up to go run him a lukewarm bath.

"I was asleep!"

"Your problem, not mine!"

___

"Alright, up you go."

"Ah, but my whole body hurts..."

"Too bad, you're sweating a bunch and you haven't done anything to clean yourself yet."

Another tug of Chanhee's hands, and he's stumbling into your arms with a raspy groan at the jerky movement. You pat his back, pecking his damp forehead, then drag him to the bathroom.

"Can you undress yourself or do you need my help with everything?" You half-joke.

"Don't be rude, it's actually hard for me to do a lot of things," Chanhee utters bitterly, but he does manage to pull his shirt over his head, albeit with your help, as well as his pants and boxers before stepping into the water.

"Or maybe you're just fragile as hell and the smallest things have you bedridden for a week."

"Oh my god I'm gonna-"

"Hush, princess, you won't do anything," you find yourself laughing as you lower yourself to your knees beside the tub, folding your arms on the side before resting your cheek atop them, "Just relax, okay? I know you're too tired to argue right now, so let yourself calm down for a couple."

He thankfully doesn't protest, and takes your advice for once; letting himself fall against the back of the bathtub and close his eyes, the sigh through his nose an indication that he's allowing himself to enjoy the water. He looks so peaceful like this. Doll-like eyelashes fluttering against smooth, heated cheeks, and head slowly lolling to face you.

You feel yourself reach out. You know it's happening, but you don't stop it when you run a hand through Chanhee's bangs, then swipe a thumb past his eyelid to trail to his nose, then lips.

He opens his eyes, but doesn't say anything, even if he probably finds it strange. He lets you touch him.

"You're very pretty," you mumble whilst pouring water onto his head using the wash bucket on the back surface of the bathtub. Drops trickle down into mini patterns on his face, and he drags a hand over it to clear them away.

"Even while sick?" He raises his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at your answer.

You comb the water into his hair to wet it as you nod, "Even while sick."

Chanhee smiles, "So, how was your day out?"

"It was nice. Found a perfect place where I'd love to take you, actually."

"Oh? Where?"

"The bone zone-"

"Oh my god, you're so annoying!"

You erupt into a fit of laughter as Chanhee swats a hand at you, getting some of your shirt and arm wet where you shield yourself from his little attack. You pinch his cheek, flashing a toothy grin, "Oh, come on! That was a good one and you know it. Smooth as ever if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, and you're the only one saying so," He pouts, pulling away from your pinchy fingers and trying his best to hide the steadily growing smirk that threatens to break his face into a smile. Stubborn as always, you see.

"You can leave now," Chanhee gives you a pointed look.

"Alright, alright. I'll be in the bedroom awaiting any further commands, your highness," You shake your head, and make a grand display of leaving the room and him to his own privacy.

Chanhee doesn't take long in the bath anyway, so you knew you wouldn't have to wait long as you fall back against the bed, shifting around until you've made yourself comfortable against the strewn navy covers. You spare a glance out the window pressed against your side; still raining, and still bathed in a silver glow from the blanketing clouds. It'd make you kind of sad, if not melancholic, but you were in a good mood from coming home, so at the most, you were calm.

Calm, even when Chanhee emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam a half hour later, only wearing a pink striped button up pajama shirt and matching bottoms, hands raised above his head whilst he dries his hair with a small towel. He comes to a stop in front of you.

"There he is," you exclaim, looking up from your phone and patting the spot next to you with a mischievous glint in your eye, "C'mere."

"I wonder why I'm hesitating," he says, and you can practically feel the the sarcasm in his words.

"Because hot people make you nervous? Duh."

"Are you insinuating that you're hot?"

That's your queue.

Leaning forward, you grab Chanhee's wrist and tug him into your chest, causing him to stumble slightly, but you catch him and pull him flush against you. A flurry of kisses to his face, excluding his lips, ensue.

Chanhee squirms around in your arms and acts like he doesn't like the affection at first, but a few more seconds of the same treatment prove true to his soft side when he goes limp and begins to giggle at the ticklish feel of your butterfly pecks.

Oh, that giggle. How you loved to hear it; sweet and beautiful like the chime of the prettiest bell in your ears.

You pull him on top of you as you relax against the crevice where the mattress meets the wall, and rest your cheek on the top of his head, humming, "You saying that I'm not hot?"

"Yes."

"Damn."

"Kidding."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You- Hush!" Chanhee covers your mouth finally and you chuckle against his palm at his feeble attempt to silence you.

You press a kiss to it instead of bickering further, causing him to soften. Just then, you realize something as you touch down his wrist.

"Woah, has your fever not died down at all? You're even starting to sweat a little bit again, too..."

Your suspicions prove true when a closer inspection at the ruddy skin flushed from his cheeks down to his chest and heavier-than-normal breathing indicates that he's still hot, or at least overheated.

"Here," you murmur, already shifting him on his back so you can easily unclasp the buttons of his shirt, "Are you in any pain or is it still just the sore throat?"

"The headache I had earlier is starting to come back. It's getting worse, but that's about it so don't worry, I'll be fine," Chanhee tries his hand at reassurance, you can tell, but it doesn't do anything to stop you from crawling over him to scurry into the kitchen.

"I'm getting you some water, hang on!" You call out from down the hall, making quick work of filling up a decently sized glass before you return to him with some painkillers as well. He barely manages to sit up when you reach him; his face scrunching at the obvious pain that's beginning to hit him tenfold as he gratefully takes the pills and throws his head back when he tosses them in his mouth, chasing them with the cold glass of water you provided.

"Ah, it's actually really starting to hurt...," Chanhee whimpers and at the sound, you slide back into the bed to pepper his face with pecks once again. He's grateful for the comfort, if the way he gently drapes his arm over your shoulder says anything.

"Oh, my poor baby," you coo lowly, feeling the goosebumps on his back that prickle at your tone, "Is there anything I can do to make it better? Did you already take your medicine?"

"Yeah.. still hurts.."

"I can tell," you snort and trail a finger down Chanhee's sternum, looping it back up to flick at one of his nipples. He jolts, and you can't help but give a cheeky smirk, "Even your nipples have taken on somewhat of a hue. I wonder what other places are doing the same thing...," your words would hold suggestion to even the most clueless of people, spoken through lips now slicked with saliva as you roll your tongue across the tinted flesh and lower your head for a taste of his exposed breast.

"Ah!" Chanhee gasps loudly and his fingers find purchase on the back of your head, his body trembling when he arches his chest up into your face, searching for more when his mouth fails to ask you such a favor.

Teasing his nipple with a gentle nip before pulling away to kiss it instead, you caress his narrow waist, "You said it hurts, no?"

"It does...," Chanhee pants and nods as fast as his throbbing head will allow him.

"Where does it hurt most, baby? Tell me," You wet your fingers with a quick swipe of your tongue then reach under his lower half to slide your hand into his shorts, Chanhee helping you by taking one leg out, and glide down the seam of his ass to tease his rim, "Here?"

"Y-yes..!" you chuckle when he huffs and flings both arms around your head, pulling you close into him and meeting your forehead as he grinds down against your digits.

"Awe, look at you..."

And look at him indeed; Chanhee is already a mess before you. Staring at you with those big watery doe eyes of his, and silently pleading for you to continue doing things to his body that has him feeling like bursting.

You give him exactly what he wants.

Pushing your finger into him, slowly due to how tight the fit is, you press sloppy kisses to the underside of his jaw. The reaction Chanhee gives is a familiar one, with sensual lips dropped open to let out a high-pitched moan and legs trembling as he holds them open for you, fighting to not shut his eyes upon feeling you enter him.

"Good," you drawl, tilting your wrist at an angle once your index and pinkie meet the backs of Chanhee's thighs and gently curling your fingers upwards, "Just like that, baby. Is this okay? Are you okay?" Your eyes search his face for discomfort, and though you don't find any, you still your movements.

He nods and nuzzles against the top of your head with his cheek, "Mm-hm. Keep going, please."

You start back up at his polite request, as much as you love hearing him ask for more of something, and begin to drag the pads of your fingers back and fourth alongside his walls until you feel the telltale firmness of his prostate, then start on massaging it.

"Ah!" He emits a short, melodical whine at the burst of sensation now seething within him. It drives him one step from crazy as he scrunches his face and unconsciously slaps at your shoulder in a sort of mid-euphoria result.

You huff out a half-laugh, sitting back on your knees so you can get a better view of what you're doing, "Good?"

Chanhee tries to use his words, but by the way you pin him down to the bed with a palm flat against his collarbone before speeding up your hand, he can only manage a broken sob. It's followed by another of the same needy type, but this time, it's louder and causes your stomach to all but flip at the sound. Chanhee throws his head back, thrashing this way and that to somewhat get away from the overwhelming feeling, but also pushing down against it at the same time; all the while your hand keeps him in place.

"I'll take that as a yes," you jest, mostly to yourself because Chanhee sure isn't listening, then bend down slightly to finally turn your focus to his weeping cock. It's full-blooded from being hard for so long, angry red at the tip and jumping every once in a while, especially when you open your mouth to lick a strip from the base to the head.

"P-please I can't! You're gonna make me cum!" Chanhee rushes to sit up, but you push him back down as soon as he tries. He looks absolutely horrified at being so close already.

"And what's the problem with that?"

"I-I just- I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, baby," You take your hand from his chest in favor of jerking him off, which he all but chokes at, "It doesn't disappoint me at all. I find it very hot, actually."

"Plea-ease..! Oh!" Chanhee wails one final time before he lets go all over your hand.

It covers your knuckles, dripping white down the side of your thumb as you keep stroking him to help him ride it out. The orgasm must've hit him hard, you think when you look up to see Chanhee shuddering in time with the aftershocks that zap his body every few seconds, eyes closed and skin dewy with a sheen of perspiration.

"Hey, come back to me. You alright? Does your head still hurt?"

He takes a moment to open his eyes, but when they roll open and find your face, he does something that catches you off-guard. He latches himself onto your front, straddling your lap, and rests his head over your shoulder with a sigh.

"Chanhee, hang on a bit, my hand's still dirty and I need to clean you up-"

"In a second. I'm tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Mm, I don't feel like talking right now."

"... You are such a handful."

@vanillaknj @stealerhwa1

#sub tbz #sub tbz smut #sub the boyz smut #sub! the boyz #sub! the boyz smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #gn!reader #idol smut #kpop smut #smut #chanhee smut #sub!chanhee #chanhee the boyz #the boyz chanhee

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kyuus4ku · 3 years

Text

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗢𝗔𝗣 𝗕𝗨𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗦

chuuya nakahara

genre: minific ; fluff

warnings: mentions of blood, a little bit of profanity

word count: 2.1K

Your head throbbed with a dull sting as you carried your aching back to sit upright on the bed. Rubbing your eyes in exhaustion, a sharp sigh escaped your lips. You had a long week, and the missions the boss sent you on weren't easy ones. As one of the Port Mafia Executives, the number of reports you had to write and dirty tasks you had to deal with were numerous, but it seemed as if the pressure that initially weighed on you was subsiding, or perhaps you were just slowly getting used to it.

Nevertheless, it was easier than before since you could work alongside Chuuya.

It seemed as if you both shared each other's burdens of the stress imposed on you everyday. Other than that, it was nice having a partner who knew exactly what you had to deal with at work. It sort of saved you the trouble of explaining and elaborating on details of how your day went, since the both of you stuck together most of the time. Even your colleagues were well-aware of how close you were. Disregarding the countless times Dazai, who was your esteemed colleague but also your close friend, had mockingly declared that you both acted like 'a pair of pathetic, lovesick teenagers,' the fact still remained that you and Chuuya were highly respected at the Port Mafia because of what your ideal duality was capable of accomplishing.

But today, you didn't bother thinking about work. It was the last thing you wanted on your mind. You turned your head to your side, and found that Chuuya was not sleeping next to you. You got out of bed and started humming a tune whilst making your way to the bathroom to freshen up. Your head was cluttered with thoughts about what your plans were for today, since it was one of those rare opportunities to spend some quality time with Chuuya, who wished to do the same with you, too. Just as you were about to get out of the bathroom to look for him, you heard a voice coming from behind the shower curtain.

"Oi," Chuuya's morning voice rang groggily, "what happened to wishing your boyfriend a simple 'good morning'?"

You tittered lightly and proceeded to open the curtain, only to find Chuuya comfortably relaxing in the bathtub with a glass of wine in his hand. A grin broke through his expression as your eyes rested on him.

"Good morning, idiot," you chimed sweetly, "how long have you been in here?"

Before he could respond, you held your index finger up in realisation as you recognised that strong scent hanging in the air. Chuuya looked at you innocently as he tried to think of a way to justify the fact that he used too much of your favourite vanilla soap in the bath. You also realised that there were more bubbles than usual, so you quickly deduced the situation and frowned at him in fake disappointment.

"I'll get you more soon," he added awkwardly before you could say anything.

"How much did you use?" you inquired seriously, attempting to scare him.

"Half the bottle... sorry... it took a while to bubble up... I was really confused," he scratched the back of his head guiltily.

"I'm kidding, Chuu~" you chuckled softly. You proceeded to remove your clothes and carefully slid into the tub to sit across him. He had prepared another glass just for you. Pouring a portion of one of his most expensive wines into it, he checked to see if you were seated comfortably.

"What's the occasion?" you asked as the sweetness of the alcohol washed over and soothed your tastebuds. The bitter aftertaste and the way it flooded over all your distressing thoughts about work summed up just how much you liked it.

"I'm a great boyfriend," he said airily, a smirk curling up the corners of his lips.

"Nah... admit it," you replied nonchalantly, "you just love spoiling me."

Chuuya laughed at this, not bothering to differ with your statement. The both of you sat in silence for a bit, casually sipping from your beverages and engulfing yourselves into your thoughts, while slowly getting a little light-headed from the gradual intoxication of the wine. The alcohol seemed to be doing a great job of relaxing your sore joints, and bringing Chuuya into a flurry of lukewarm emotions which stood in contrast to his usual agitated mood.

However, this changed as Chuuya broke his train of thought when he noticed the bruises lining your right shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, so he leaned forward and reached out his hand, gently brushing the tips of his finger against them and catching you off-guard at the same time.

"What happened here?" he asked, observing it carefully as your hand reached out to push away his. You didn't really like it when he showed too much concern over such trivial things, even though you deeply appreciated it. Since working in the Port Mafia often posed threats to the both of you physically, these sort of minor injuries were normal, but he never failed to dote after you. He took care of you as best he could, and you did just the same for him. This was one of the million reasons why Dazai often referred to you both as 'the cheesiest couple to walk on this godforsaken planet.'

"It's nothing," you held your hand over your shoulder, pressing the bruises lightly to see if they still hurt as much as they did a few days ago, "It's just from that dumb fight that broke out a few days ago. Remember?"

"Where was I?" a look of annoyance replaced his concerned expression, "why didn't you ask for help?"

"I managed it just fine," you replied rather abruptly, trying your best to brush it off. You two often argued about such things, but today, the last thing you wanted to do was fight over something so minor.

Chuuya stared at you seriously while you tried to avoid his gaze. Your heart raced a little at the thought of a potential argument breaking out, so you decided to diffuse the tension since it was supposed to be a day of rest, and... slight inebriation.

"Chuuya," you subtracted the ego your expression held, and assumed a calmer, more tender tone, "it's nothing to worry about, okay?"

He pursed his lips as his eyes travelled down to your bruises, then back up to meet your gaze, "please, be more careful, for fuck's sake."

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The pace at which your heart was beating slowed down to keep up with the alcohol's minor effect on your body, and Chuuya's sharp features, with its present undisturbed guise, had a strange way of setting you at ease, too.

Maybe it was just the wine talking, but you didn't let anything stop you from soaking up every fibre of this moment.

"Hey, don't act as if you didn't come home with blood all over your clothes a few weeks ago. It was a fucking bloodbath over here, and all I got were a few bruises," your playful teases overtook the silence which the both of you were too captivated by for a while.

"Shut up. Don't make me remind you about how you were freaking out," he mentally mustered up the theatrical skill hidden deep inside him to imitate your voice, "'Fuck, there's blood everywhere! Chuuya, how are you feeling? It's okay, I'm going to patch you up... where the fuck are the bandaids!? Oh my- okay, wait, I'll be back, don't move. Oh, wait, you can't- sorry, just give me a moment-"

"I had all the right to freak out, dumbass!" you cut him off and giggled as he shook his head dismissively, trying his best not to smile but failing all the same.

"On a serious note," Chuuya uttered after some contemplation, "if something like that happens again, call out my name."

"In the middle of a fight?" you tilted your head, perplexed.

"Yeah," he responded plainly.

"What are you going to do? Bitch-slap them?" you asked with a mischievous grin, unable to take him seriously.

"Make them regret it," Chuuya replied bluntly before a devious smile broke through his serious expression, "of all people, you know what I'm capable of."

"I do," you assured him, "but why?"

The question was genuine, and he decided to respond with brutal honesty.

"I don't take people's wellbeing lightly," he said, sipping on his wine while keeping his gaze locked onto you, "especially the people I give a damn about. So if anyone ever crosses that line— I'll kill them."

You felt something shift inside you.

His aggression and fierce loyalty seemed to overwhelm you. No one had ever spoken for you like that.

He took note of your silence, and wondered why you became quiet all of the sudden.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, gesturing for you to come over to his side. You did accordingly and made yourself comfortable in between his legs by stretching out your own, so that the both of you made good use of the space in the bathtub. The back of your head rested on his chest as the two of you blankly stared at the bubbles that surfaced the soapy water decoratively. He took away the wine glass from your hands and placed both the glasses on the cabinet nearby, where your essential oils and premium soaps were housed. He reached out to the lowest shelf for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Nothing," you replied calmly, "thank you."

"For what?" he asked, slowly getting a cigarette out of its box, careful not to get the tobacco rod wet.

"Don't know..." you replied dreamily, "no one's ever..."

Your voice trailed off. Chuuya sensed that you weren't in the mood to respond, so he reached his hands in front of your face with a cigarette in between his fingers, and placed it in between your lips carefully, with his face peeking over your shoulder to ensure that he had the permission to do so. As he gently handled your jaw in one hand and the lighter in the other, he lit it up for you.

"There's no reason to thank me," he leaned back once again as you painted the air with wisps of smoke. You remained silent as you handed him the cigarette. He held it in his hand and opened his mouth again, "this job really sticks a fuck ton of needles up the soles of your feet, so I can't help but feel worried about you."

"I'm worried about you, too," you replied as he passed you back the cigarette, puffing out clouds of smoke smoothly, "you know that, right?"

"Of course, I do," he scoffed, surprised at your question, "you're the one who doesn't seem to get that."

"Huh? What do you mean?''

Chuuya took a while to come up with an answer because he was trying to pick out words that he meant from the bottom of his heart.

"I signed up for this shit. I signed up for worrying about your dumbass and wanting to slice the throats of anyone who hurts you, let alone, touches you. So there's no reason to push my concern for you away; it won't go away. I'm just like that. I just care for you that way."

You giggled at his statement; that was the only way you seemed to know how to respond.

"What's so funny?" he growled grumpily.

His statement rewinded and played itself over and over again in your head.

"I feel like the luckiest person alive when I'm with you," were the words that came out of your lips breathlessly.

"Damn, it took you that long to realise?" he chuckled lightly and wrapped his arm around your abdomen to bring you closer toward him, "I'm going to keep you safe... whether you like it or not."

You turned back to peek at his casual smile and leaned towards him to place your lips on his; his fingers travelled up the back of your neck and into your wet hair as he pulled your head closer to his. Your body was physically enchanted by his embrace, to the point that your fingers started playfully drawing curly, deformed doodles on his bare chest. The essence of tobacco and wine were exchanged as your lips continued kissing his.

The rest of the day was similar to that morning you spent in the tub, except that it involved a slightly more chaotic type of drunkenness by which you two wreaked havoc wherever you could in the comfort of your home. It was an activity you two started looking forward to every weekend: just the two of you, drinking wine in the bathtub lined with vanilla-scented bubbles.

author's note: Heyo! This is pretty much my first post on this blog. I'm not very new to writing but this is my first attempt at drabble/short story writing revolving around an established character lol I hope you liked it! I'll make up a masterlist after I've written more fics/drabbles so I will do my best to come up with good content! Thank you for reading(◡‿◡✿)

#bsd fanfic #bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya scenarios #chuuya headcanons #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs hcs #bsd hcs #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya fluff #bsd drabble #chuuya drabble #chuuya fanfic

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

I want you to only look at me

Summary :

5 times when Loki flirts with Mobius who is completely confused and once when Mobius retaliates.

Loki will learn that teasing Mobius has consequences (but that he will enjoy these consequences).

Tumblr request : Can we have some Lokius where Loki is super flirty and we get flustered mobius???

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32902924

1734 words - Rating T

It had all started right at the end of the debriefing at the beginning of the day.

"Is everyone clear on their assignments?"

"Yes Agent Mobius."

Mobius' satisfied look slid from the recruits to their supervisor Loki.

But he had to hold back a gasp.

Loki had just had that little gesture again, the thing that turned Mobius completely inside out.

Don’t bite your lip like that, good god…

He could not look away from Loki's lips, vaguely aware of the recruits leaving the room.

His gaze left the fascinating lips and when he looked up, he met Loki's eyes.

Holy crap... caught in the act.

Mobius could not prevent his cheeks from blushing slightly.

Loki's eyes shone with that familiar spark of mischief, as his lover smiled cockily.

That look always means trouble.

Loki winked at him, the little minx, then turned away and left the room with an undoubtedly exaggerated swaying step.

Mobius moaned innerly.

That meant a lot of trouble.

A few hours later, as Mobius was half-heartedly trying to focus on his files, someone knocked lightly on his office door.

"Come in!"

It was Loki with some files in his hands.

"I have some mission reports for you to sign," the god said as he walked over and sat down in front of him. Then he gave him the files.

Mobius leaned forward to seize them. Loki took advantage of it to touch the hand of Mobius with his fingertips. Surprised, Mobius looked up at Loki who looked away, pretending to be innocent.

Mobius almost snatched the sheets from his hand and, annoyed, began to read the reports as if Loki were not there, but aware of the heat he felt where Loki had brushed his hand.

Loki stood up and slowly walked to the door humming.

"See you later, Agent Mobius..."

Mobius buried his head in his hands. It was not yet noon.

A lot of trouble, indeed.

Two hours later, as Mobius' stomach reminded him that it was well past lunchtime, Loki entered his office again.

"Given the time, I suspected you hadn't eaten yet, I managed to save a salad from the cafeteria," Loki placed the salad in question on his desk and sat down across from him before continuing, "so I'm taking advantage of the end of my lunch break to bring it to you and spend a few minutes with you."

"Thanks, that's thoughtful of you," Mobius said softly, touched by the kind gesture.

"I have to take care of you, since you don't."

Mobius grunted around the mouthful he was now chomping on.

Loki chuckled and they talked about everything and anything while Mobius ate his salad, aware of Loki's gaze, which seemed to follow the movements of his fork with attention.

Having finished his salad, Mobius put the plastic fork back in the bowl and looked up at Loki.

And for the second time that day, he almost gasped.

Damn it! He was doing it again!

Loki was biting his lip again, but this time it was clearly to tease Mobius, because he was staring him right in the eyes.

Mobius coughed to compose himself and looking at his watch he said with a confidence he was far from feeling.

"I think your break is over, right?"

Loki, not at all fooled, stood up slowly, with a small turn of his hand made the empty salad bowl disappear and came very close to Mobius' face. With a glint of desire in his eyes, he whispered softly, "I love the look on your face whenever I do that."

Mobius's eyes widened and he couldn't stop his cheeks from turning slightly red again, as Loki once again walked out of his office with a proud and confident step.

Mobius wondered if he would survive the afternoon.

Yes, a lot of trouble.

Two hours later, Mobius was waiting in front of the elevator, lost in his thoughts, when the little 'ding' of the door opening made him look up. He was surprised to see his lover come out, who exclaimed with joy when he saw him, "Mobius!"

Whatever his annoyance at the way Loki had Mobius wrapped around his little finger today, reading the genuine joy on Loki's face whenever he saw Mobius, made him forget everything. There was something comforting, to see that his own presence made the person he loved so happy, after all.

He smiled softly at her, then entered the elevator, their shoulders deliberately brushing against each other as they crossed.

He turned and watched his lover walk away as the doors were about to close. Suddenly Loki turned around, lifted his hand and the elevator doors remained open. He rushed towards Mobius and stood so close to him that their toes were touching and Mobius could feel the heat emanating from Loki's body.

"Loki? What is it?"

Loki had a half smile and said softly, putting his hands on Mobius' tie, "I can't let my handsome lover look less handsome because of a poorly made tie knot."

Mobius wanted to lower his head to check Loki's words but Loki didn't let him do it and made him raise his chin while shaking his head.

Mobius also realized in the moment that Loki had just said that he was handsome, and again he could not help but blush.

He wanted to slap himself on the back of the head because he felt like he was reacting like a prepubescent teenager.

Loki, with his eyes fixed on him, tightened the knot perfectly and once finished, slid his hands along the tie until he rested one of them on Mobius' chest.

He leaned forward and whispered in Mobius' ear, totally aware of the shivers he was causing his lover, "I can almost hear your heart racing."

Then he stepped back, until he came out of the elevator, with a flick of his hand he made the doors close, and all that Mobius' stunned eyes could see was the flash of mischief that crossed Loki's.

A look that presaged more trouble to come.

For the past five minutes, Mobius had been listening to the recruits' reports of the day's missions and he was unable to concentrate, because Loki was staring at him with the same gleam in his eye that he had had all day. After all the ways he had teased him, Mobius was only aware of Loki's presence and responded in an automatic way to the recruits.

He reached with difficulty the end of the succession of reports, thanked them for their work and wished them a good evening, all this while feeling Loki's gaze following his every move. But Mobius did everything to avoid crossing this glance.

The irritation of being messed up by his lover was however starting to get to him.

As the last of the recruits left the room, Mobius gathered his papers, determined to ignore Loki.

He moved with a quick step towards the door, but he couldn't help it and exploded, turning back to Loki, "Stop staring at me to distract me!"

Loki walked towards him, with a predatory grin, and bringing his lips close to Mobius', he said quite distinctly, "Oh, I'm not staring at you to distract you. I'm staring at you because no matter how many people are around us, I can only see you, love."

Then, just as Mobius thought Loki was going to kiss him, he stepped back, walked past him and strolled away, humming again.

The next morning, Loki woke up in Mobius' arms wrapped around him, his back against his chest. He gradually became aware that he was a little sore, but really happy and content as he thought back to the previous night.

He had not really intended to make Mobius react in this way.

He had just wanted that for one day, Mobius only thought about him. The result had been beyond his expectations, the night had been incredible.

He felt Mobius wake up behind him and press himself a little more against him.

Mobius turned him around and kissed him gently before pulling back a little, a soft smile on his lips. Then suddenly the expression on his face changed, he now looked almost horrified.

"Mobius?"

Loki lowered his eyes, following the direction of Mobius' eyes and saw what had shocked his lover. His chest was covered with various hickeys and small bites.

Seeing that Mobius had already begun his guilt trip, Loki raised his head and said, "Mobius, love, you didn't do anything I didn't want to. And honestly, if I wasn't afraid of shocking the younger recruits, I wouldn't mind parading around and proudly displaying this evidence of your passion." He finished with a wink.

Mobius buried his face in Loki's hair and whispered against the skin of his neck, making him shiver.

"You have awakened in me my most feral instincts, sweetheart."

"I enjoyed it, believe me." replied Loki, "I know I reaped what I sowed, but I didn't expect such a torrent of wild passion."

"You think you can taunt me all day and I won't return the favor? You were such a fucking tease. So infuriatingly intoxicating!”

With a skilful hip movement, Mobius turned Loki on his back and straddled him. Then he bent over and it was his turn to make Loki squirm, while he whispered against his ear, aware of the shivers he was causing to his lover, “You have no idea what you do to me, do you? I'll show you Sweetheart. Today you're not going to leave this bed and I’m going to learn everything there is to know about you, everything that makes you tick, all your sensitive little buttons, what makes you blush, what makes you shiver."

He nibbled on Loki's earlobe and released it before pulling back and continuing, his eyes in Loki's wide ones, "You said you only see me, but I, Loki, only see you too, since forever, love, you're the only thing that makes me tick. You. Loki. And even though I loved everything you did yesterday to seduce me, just being you will always be enough for me."

He concluded his passionate speech with an equally passionate kiss and began to put into practice what he had just told him. Learning everything that made Loki tick.

That day, they indeed did not leave their bed.

_____

Whole one shot series here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#established relationship #lokius fic #lokius #loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #moki #wowki #loki x mobius #5+1 fic

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fangirl-ramblings · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest - Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream.

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

"Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

"Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day.

"Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

"I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus - single-handedly - to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

"Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

"Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…"

'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck.

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients."

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

"Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

"No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent.

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

"Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

"Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

"What? What's got into you?"

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were.

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

"Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

"Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

"I saw her kiss you."

"You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

"Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

"No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

"So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

"Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

"Get to the point please, Arthur."

"You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him - to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

"So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you,

"You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

"Prove it." You pleaded.

"Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

"I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

"I'm all yours...are you mine?"

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #merry christmas #(i hope this copied over correctly 🙈🤣)#rdr secret santa 2020 #secret santa gift

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themadauthorshatter · 2 years

Text

... Yeah, I'm doing it.

And it won't be an outline-esque thing where it's in present tense, either, though I would like it to be(I wish to challenge myself!!).

TW warning for imprisonment, the world dying, war, torture, and basically A LOT of negativity throughout this whole thing; the bookshop scene did not break my heart enough😅

Clipped Wings(A Good Omens Fanfic) Chapter 1!

I'm so sorry if there's another fanfic by that name!!!

It was over. Granted it was over when the Hellhound found the Antichrist, but now it was actually over. As in, over over. As in "no more chances" over. As in, "end of the world" over.

It was over the minute Hastur and Ligur had hidden in Crowley's flat and gotten the jump when he'd gotten a call from Aziraphale on who and where the bloody Antichrist even was.

It was over when Aziraphale finished his call with Crowley and was(quite rudely) dragged out of his own home and bookshop by Michael and Sandalphon. (Granted, they at least asked first, giving their best smiles and standing prim and proper as if they owned the establishment and not the Principality himself, but Aziraphale merely politely declined. Apparently, being polite was still a slap in the face.)

Now the two were in neighboring cells, sitting as close as they could as they allowed the silence to consume them.

Neither cell was very comfortable, what with no bed or even chairs present, but at least there were windows in place of one of the walls.

Perfect to watch it all with.

Crowley groaned as he tipped his head back and watched the ceiling instead, counting the tiles for the eleventh or twelth time. Or maybe the thirteenth?

It was hard to pass time when it didn't even matter.

In his own cell, Aziraphale chose to rest his head on his knees. His arms were sore from being pulled and dragged to this cold, musty little cell, his throat hurt from shouting, his head hurt from Michael holding him by the hair, and his chest hurt from the sight of the planet he'd been on for 6000 years, the place he truly called home.

Except for Bastille, of course, where the cell was also cold, musty and little.

In spite if himself, he chuckled.

"You alright, Angel?" He heard Crowley ask.

Aziraphale rested his head against the wall, allowing himself to look at the ceiling for a change. "Just reminicing, Dear boy. Is your head any better?"

In his cell, Crowley ran a hand over the back of his skull, where Hastur had smashed a ceramic plant pot to incapacitate him, and wondered which plant Hastur tore apart for it.

He also wondered if Hastur tore apart ALL of his plants while waiting for him in his flat.

"Still stings," he replied instead. "How about you? Think you'll live?"

Aziraphale chuckled once more. "I think I'll manage." The angel glanced at the world, at London, at Tadfield as angels and demons raced to beat each other to where the battle would commence. He sighed as the ache in his chest returned. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were just like humans."

"Humans have a 'stop' button, angel," Crowley reminded. "Try getting a demon to stop from a good temptation."

Aziraphale shrugged at the notion. "I suppose you're right."

Crowley's hand reached to push his glasses higher on his face, but only brushed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. "Who was it?"

"Whom, dear?"

"The Antichrist," Crowley lightly snapped. "Who was it?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips as his eyes met the floor. "A boy by the name of Adam Young. I believe he lived right in Tadfield, as well."

Clouds grew over all of England, all starting from London and growing outward, dark and presumably heavy with rain, a testament to the boy’s growing power.

Crowley ignored them and instead glared at the floor.

Tadfield. Just under their noses.

With a hiss, he drove his heel into the ground, grunting at the smart growing up his leg. "Damn it," he swore. "Go-... Sat..." He threw his head back and let out a hoarse, loud yowl. "Damn it all, SOMEBODY!"

Aziraphale let him shout, let him speak the words he himself couldn't find. He barely trusted himself to speak, anyway.

Crowley's chest heeved as he drove his fist into the floor, grinded his teeth together, bit his tongue, anything to ignore the hollowness growing from the angel in the cell next to or across from him; he felt so close, like they weren't seperated by marble or stone.

"Any miracles, angel?"

Even though he couldn't see it, he could hear Aziraphale shake his head.

"Not one. I suppose you can't, either?"

Crowley inhaled sharply, the innocent remark worsening the growing hole in his chest.

Of course Heaven and Hell would have 'miracle-proof' cells. There weren't any doors, either, just five slabs of stone around them woth one large, unbreakable piece of glass to keep them from trying any further from stopping the stupid war.

And try they did, for their own parts. They'd kept Heaven and Hell away from the real Antichrist for eleven years, ensured their sights had been on young Warlock, instead, but Adam was now in his power and raging about the world, and there was no one to stop him; the only two who cared enough to try were nearly back to back as Heaven and Hell prepared themselves.

"Do you wish... we had more time?"

Crowley turned, even though he was met with a wall rather than Aziraphale's face. "What?"

Aziraphale's hands rested in his knees. "6000 years on that wonderful planet. Do you wish we had a bit more time to really enjoy it?"

Crowley furrowed his brow.

Heaven and Hell had nothing compared to Earth. On Earth, you never saw the two same faces, never had the same conversations, never went to bring someone down the first chance they had. Neither had ever been known for good food or alcohol or entertainment or music or transportation.

At the thought of the latter...

"Think the Bentley'll be okay?"

Aziraphale swallowed as his throat dried. "I would hope so," he reasoned. He tried not to imagine the car used as a shield before it was used as a weapon or made into a trap or being torn to pieces to make different types of weapons. Another thought bloomed in his mind, one that left a pit in his stomach. "Do you think the bookshop will be alright?"

Crowley's skin crawled. The bookshop, that cozy, small, warm bookshop. He imagined it brimming with plotting angels or scheming demons, either side most likely talking about how to beat the other. The books and candles would be used as fuel for hellfire and the kettles and bottles would be vessels for holy water. Every part of that shop would be ripped away from the angel, perversed by war and greed and pride.

To imagine it's walls used as a base rather than a home was sickening.

"Yeah," he stated simply, the knotting in his stomach growing as Aziraphale drew a shaking breath.

His eyes returned to Earth as it seeingly grew closer, close enough for them to see the faint images of Gabriel and Beezlebub standing before each other, both eying each other with their respective sides behind them as they stalked toward one another, each hungry to fight. The Four Horsemen were present as well, all glancling and smirking at the display of celestial rivalry(Both the angel and demon presumed Death was smirking beneath his hood).

Ever the preener, Gabriel donned himself in a fine suit, coat, and scarf, each piece of clothing a blinding white that made the silver of his wings shine more.

Beezlebub had always had hard to impress, namely because it was he who impressed everyone else in Hell, even now in their black suit that hung around their wrists and ankles crown of flies and thin, slightly veined wings that barely matched their petite size, even compared to the nauseating magnificence of the archangel Gabriel.

It's starting. And here we are.

Crowley remained where he sat on the floor, but Aziraphale pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to the window, getting close enough to press his hand against the glass, to fog it with his breath and he exhaled more and more unevenly.

His breathing worsened as Hastur lunged forward. Michael and Uriel raced ahead as well, even as Gabriel protested, and snatched the demon by the arms, easily lifting him and smashing themselves and him into the ground.

The rest of the fight was hidden by the remaining angels and demons charging forward and colliding, displaying their holiness and disgrace in a show that was 6000 years in the making.

And you could have stopped it if you had just tried harder. If you had told Crowley sooner. If you had been smarter than to waste all that time.

Where Aziraphale forced himself to watch, Crowley resolutely stared at the wall opposite to him; he'd seen enough to know all wars ended one of three ways, anyway, with one side winning, the other side winning, or neither side winning. And knowing neither side was human, that could mean a century of fighting, if either side was really desperate.

Neither spoke as the war raged on. Crowley eventually did turn to see what everyone had been working for, and he wished he hadn't.

Too many faces were blurred together and contorted with a fury fit for wild animals, familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. He managed to spot a few in the fray, but only in brief glimpses.

Michael and Dagon slashed at each other with near matching daggers, Michael's hair cropped and torn as Dagon's remained slicked back and off his forehead.

Ligur kicked and stomped at Uriel, cackling over her, before the archangel yanked his foot out from beneath him and pummeled his face with her fist, each blow like the swing of a sledge hammer, impacting harder and faster each time.

Sandalphon cracked a whip in the air before sending it to Hastur, who grabbed a lesser coworker and hurled it to the weapon before it struck him, only to sprint forward when Sandalphon drew back for another strike.

As usual, it was Gabriel and Beezlebub that stole the show, the two tearing at each other like wolves with Beezlebub digging her teeth and nails into Gabriel's hand as he pulled at her hair and repeatedly struck his face with a bloodied fist.

There was a lot of that, as well. Blood. Humans were a breed apart from angels and demons, mainly because no matter what the color of their skin was, what the color of their hair was, what the color of their eyes was, they all bled the same crimson liquid as each other.

Most angels more or less bled light, or what looked like liquid light, a fluid that glowed brought as the sun, even from the smallest cut. Some others bled what looked to be a mix of silver and gold. Some bled silver while others bled gold.

Demons, however, only bled one thing: black. An inky, rich fluid that was thick as viscose as syrup but darker than Hell itself(Or the hole where Hastur's soul used to be).

Both sides bled and it stained the ground, and soon the beams of light leaving the angels' bodies already made it hard to watch the fight, but the black blood of the demons stained the fighters and the ground.

Through his disgust, his horror, his sorrow, and his despair, Crowley had to admit it: It was spectacular, but it was also the worst thing he'd seen since the Spanish Enquisition.

"I wonder who will win?" Aziraphale asked emptily.

Crowley clenched a fist as he bit his tongue again. "Me too."

"We were almost the ones down there," Aziraphale continued, more or less to himself. "And almost fought each other like they're doing right now."

Crowley tried not think about it like that, that he and Aziraphale were so close to destroying each other.

When the angel gasped, Crowley looked toward the window once more.

Everyone had stopped, all fear struck and almost sheepish, like they were all children in the face of a scornful mother.

Because they were, and, even in their cells millions of miles away, Crowley and Aziraphale heard Her words like they were on Earth as well, Her voice booming like a clap of thunder, sending a shiver through everyone, especially compared to her usually gentle tone when sparsely talking to them.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" The Almighty demanded. "HAVE YOU ALL GONE MAD!?"

The fighting had stopped, the horsemen were gone, and each side had gone deafly quiet, even Gabriel, who pranced about his own greatness, even Hastur, who looked fearful for his own actions for once.

Get the bastards, Crowley willed as he glared at Gabriel and Hastur. Please, Lord, make them pay for all of this.

Gabriel simply smiled up to the sky, his breathing uneven from the foght and from being punished by his creator. "This was your plan, wasn't it? We're doing what you told us to. You don't play games with the universe."

"Is it?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley knitted his brow. "Eh?"

"The Great plan, is it the Ineffable plan?"

Crowley barely had time to think about it when God spoke again.

"I have a plan, Gabriel, but I never said I didn't play games." The Almighty fell silent for a moment. "Where are Aziraphale and Crowley?"

The angels and demons all turnned their heads as they muttered, each asking for the Principality and demon. Only the archangels and the few high-ranjing demons stood resolutely, only looking for a way to save themselves.

"Well?" God snapped. "Where are they?"

Beezlebub stood forward, his small hand raised. "We've searched all through Hell for the demon, My Lord," she said as she tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. "He's gone."

"As is the angel Aziraphale," Gabriel cut in. "He conspired against Heaven with the demon Crowley and the two tried to prevent the Great War. Surely, that is going against your Ineffable plan, isn't it? Working with the enemy to stop the unstoppable?"

A wave of burning, suffocating rage washed over Crowley, one that swept him off his feet and sent him to the floor with a nearly silent scream.

"He's lying!" Aziraphale cried as he rapped on the glass with his fist. "They’re both lying to you! We're trapped, Lord! Get us out, please!"

"When did I ever say angels and demons were enemies? And when did I say all of you had my permission to tear each other apart and destroy Earth!?"

The waves increased and Crowley actually did scream this time. He'd felt rage before, both his own and others'. He'd even felt the Devil's rage.

God's rage had nothing to it. Where the Devil's rage only struck at his chest and spread outward in pain and a burning that couldn't be cooled, God's rage struck all of Crowley's body and burned every inch of him, making movement and talking damn near impossible.

There was only one reason why she'd be so angry and there was only one thing she'd do with that anger, one thing she'd direct it at.

The cold of his own horror momentarily washed away the burning pain of God's rage.

"Don't," he begged, the air he didn't need already out of his lungs. "Please, don't! I beg you, please!"

Aziraphale fled from the window and to the wall he and Crowley had sat against. "Crowley, dear, what's wrong? What's happening?"

His answer came from his and Crowley's creator.

"You want to destroy the world so much? Forsake all life that I've created so that you can act on your own pride?"

The rage and burning grew even more until Crowley wondered if he'd be set of fire, if he'd been set on fire. He moved to stand again, but his nerves and muscles protested in earnest, crying out both on and under his skin every time he twitched and moved one of his limbs. Another feeling raced through him as well, one that he shared with the Lord feeling it: Anguish. Regret. Sorrow.

He lay a trembling hand on the glass, trying to use its cold surface to distract from the pain of God's rage and growing remorse.

He wasn't alone in his fear; Aziraphale's eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

"No," he murmured.

Don't do it, Crowley pleaded in his mind as he drew heavy, uneven breathes. You're supposed to love everything you create, not destroy it! Not again!

On Earth, the angels and demons glanced cautiously at one another, waiting for God to speak again.

"Fine."

The blue sky deepened to crimson as the ground shook, illiciting frightened helps and screams from angels and demons alike. What began as a slight tremor grew to violent quakes as fissures and cracks spread over the ground.

It then split open and flames burst out. The angels and demons screamed as they scurried away, leaving in flashes of lightning and hiles in the ground.

The sky broke as well and a flurry of rain and blood poured down, causing the flames to grow. Lightning struck harder and harder and the earth continued to break aparf and spew fire.

The image of the battleground shrank until the planet was in full view of their windows again, and now both angel and demon stared out at the scene, unable to look away.

The lands turned to flame, the blue oceans turned red, and the white-grey clouds turned black from smoke. Even the moon crumbled and flew towards the already dying planet.

More smoke. More flames. More red seas.

"NO!" Aziraphale cried. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"Stop it," Crowley muttered before shouting, smashing his fist against the glass. "Stop it! They've done nothing! They prayed to you! Did what you wanted! THEY LOVE YOU!"

They're words were only met with a world that burned, that drowned, that bled, that crumbled.

Well, crumbled was putting it lightly. It was more the flames and blood grew to the point that the Earth's core boiled up and caused something of an explosion that obliterated all existing life, something that tended to happen when God was angered enough.

Only this time, there was nothing left.

No humans. No birds. No cats or dogs. No ducks. No plants. No cars. No bookshops. No restaurants. No garden.

No humans.

Nothing.

It was quiet.

It was too quiet.

It was dark, too, even with the sun burning in the distance.

Aziraphale's hands shook on the glass as it darkened and hardened beneath his touch. "Wait," he whispered. "Wait, no." The window's transparency soon became opaque, leaving the cell dark, save for a small light in the center of the ceiling. "No!" He cried as his fist slammed against fresh stone.

Crowley gasped as his window was replaced with a stone wall, quiet as Aziraphale yelled and battered his hands. He only spoke when Aziraphale broke down into tears, and he cast a teary, broken glare to the ceiling, to the universe outside of it.

"This was your plan!?" Crowley demanded. "Create life just to destroy it!? They didn't even do anything!"

Unlike before, there was silence from the Creator, the same silence he always got whenever he prayed.

That made him angrier.

"They must've cried when you destroyed them! They must've begged, at least! Did you enjoy it!? Takimg it all out on th' kid that stood by and watched instead of the two actually fighting and making a mess!? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING ANYMORE, GOD!?" Crowley roared. "DO YOU EVEN CARE!? THEY WERE YOUR CHILDREN, TOO!"

Again he was met with silence, save for the sound sof Aziraphale's sobbing.

The anger melted away and hot, heavy tear rolled down his face. His legs weakened as well and sent him plopping to the ground. Shame filled him as he let himself cry with Aziraphale.

Demons were often whipped for their tears in Hell, but what else was he going to do? He was probably going to few worse than a few lashes already.

The last he could do was let Aziraphale shed his tears and not bother him for it. Aziraphale was showing him the courtesy of not trying to stop him, so it was only fair.

At least we're together, Angel.

#good omens #fanfiction #fanfic angst #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub #slight religious talk #imprisonment tw #world destruction tw #war tw

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Warning: Language, implied sexual innuendos, reference and non descriptive sex // A hattrick by Bucky Barnes in being a dick // Sexual tension begins

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

A bright hue of orange yellow filled your room, a ray of sunlight seeping through a crevice in your curtains. It was too bright to keep sleeping soundly any longer, and besides, you had an alarm set up for 7 in the morning, so you could go out for your morning run, and get back in time to get yourself a nice breakfast.

You sat up in bed, grumbling and groaning at the soreness you were now feeling where you had felt Steve's hard blow. Your eyes moved down, as you rolled up your t-shirt, and stared at the bluish bruise that had seemed to form over your abs. It was only then when you realized, when your eyes fell on the clock, that you had slept in, and it was already ten minutes past 9. You hopped out of bed, almost managing to fall face first to the floor, as your foot was still entangled in the sheets.

Dressed in your PJs, without even bothering to run your hands through your hair, you slid your glasses over the bridge of nose and walked out of your apartment. You needed coffee, and you needed food; you were starving, and your stomach was rumbling loud enough for the entire towers to hear.

When you entered the recreation room, a wafting aroma of waffles and bacon filled your nostrils, making you almost lick your lips.

"Morning, Y/N," Wanda greeted in a chirpy voice, causing your head to snap towards her. She was sitting on the dining table, her plate of food kept in front of her, her fingers curled against a glass of grape juice as she brought it up to her lips and took a sip, her eyes fixed on you. "Good sleep?"

"Not really. I feel like shit. I need an effing coffee first."

Wanda hummed in agreement and went back to relishing her breakfast while you lazily tumbled into the kitchen, where Tony was already brewing himself one.

"Morning, junior. Had a good sleep?"

"Junior? I'm no one's junior, Stark." You hissed at him, almost ready to snatch the coffee that he had made for himself but he was swift, he pulled it off the slab before you could grab it.

"Well, you've replaced Wanda as our new junior, until our next recruit decides to join us," he chuckled, reaching out and ruffling your hair, ending up making you even more grumpier than you had been before. You kept watching him with a scowl as he walked out, leaving you alone to brew yourself your mug of coffee.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Bucky stormed through the seventh floor hallway, having just stepped out of his apartment that happened to be next to yours but you still had no clue about that. He was angry, his shoulders were tense and his mind was occupied; he kept playing the events of yesterday like a movie at the back of his mind. You stepped closer, splashed him with chilled water and he could do nothing, rather, although he could have done a lot of things, he just kept watching you until you had left.

A war was waging at the back of his mind, and he was already working on ways he could get back at you, after what you did.

He ran his calloused hands through his loose strands, as he made his way towards the gym to work out and get this damn thoughts out of his mind. But this definitely wasn't going to happen for his eyes fell on you the minute he entered the gym.

You hadn't seen him yet, for you had your ear pods on, and you were running on the treadmill, with Sam lifting weights a few steps away from you. Bucky cleared his throat, causing Sam to look up into the mirror and then towards you, wondering if you had seen him yet.

By now, probably the entire Stark Towers knew that you were on a cold war with Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

You had seen him through the mirror, but you were ignoring him. As long as you had your music on, he couldn't invade your privacy and make your life hell so you decided to ignore him, and continue running on the treadmill, although you kept following his movements, with your eyes. You watched him as he made his way to the bench press and sat down on the bench. You could see his lips moving, which you assumed that he was either speaking to Sam, or to Friday, to get the song changed, which was actually the latter one. Finally, he laid down flat on his back on the bench press, gripping the bar, his fingers coiling securely around it.

He slowly brought the bar down to his chest, as he breathed in. You didn't realise you were gawking at him for some reason through the mirrors, and wondering how effortless this whole thing looked on him. You also didn't realize that Sam was staring at you staring at Bucky in the mirror, giving you a side smirk until you abruptly removed the gaze from Bucky and slowly started unwinding yourself to get off the treadmill. You stepped off the treadmill when it finally came to a halt, and made your way to where the dumbbells were. Fixing yourself in front of the mirror, you started working on your arms.

Bucky had by now moved to the cross trainer, and you were waiting for Sam to get done with the deadlifts so you could get a chance. While you were waiting, you decided you would go get yourself a quick drink.

"Sam, don't let anyone take over. It's my turn next." You visibly said it out aloud, noticing Bucky almost roll his eyes at you through the mirror.

"Sure, I'm almost done anyway. What weights do you want? I'll do it for you while you're gone."

Your workout routine comprised of two twenty five kg bumper plates and the fifteen kg bar. You told Sam the same, not noticing that Bucky was also listening in on the conversation. You then turned away, your shoes flapping against the wooden floorboards until you had disappeared.

This was Bucky's queue. He quickly hopped off the cross trainer, tossing a plain white towel over his shoulder and round his neck. He walked up to Sam who was placing the twenty five kg bumper plate on the left side of the bar. Giving him one quick glance, he walked towards a cabinet, pulling out the tiny sticky notes and a marker, roughly scribbling the words 15 kg on two of them.

He walked back again, and bent down next to Sam, who raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look.

"What on earth are you upto?"

"Just wait, and watch the fun."

Bucky placed the sticky notes on top of the 25 kg, changing it now to 15 kg, repeating the same for the other bumper plate as well.

"Hey! That's not right! Why you doing that for?" Sam pointed out, trying to reach for the sticker but Bucky just swatted his arm away.

"Shut the hell up, and dare you open your mouth when she comes back."

"This is dangerous, Bucky. She can break her back," Sam mumbled.

"10 kgs more ain't gonna break her damn back, Wilson. Besides, if she can't lift another twenty, she really doesn't deserve to be here." Bucky stood up finally, and slapped his hands together, moving away from it and towards the bench where he had now lowered himself and was waiting, his elbows resting on his knees, as he started scrolling through his phone. He only looked up when he heard footsteps approaching the gym, and he glared at Sam, eyeing him, and warning him not to open his mouth.

You stepped back in, ignoring Bucky as you twisted the cap of the energy drink and took a few sips before closing it again and letting it rest next to the weights.

"Thanks Sam," you winked at him, and watched him look at you, with a weird look on his face that you couldn't decipher. However, when you noticed the stickers on the bumper plates, a frown creased on your forehead, "Sam, you forgot, I had asked for a twenty five, not fifteen."

Sam almost opened his mouth to speak, but Bucky gave him such a glare, he just sheepishly ran his palm through the back of his head, and gave you a nervous chuckle, "I might have forgotten."

"Nevermind," you gave him a tight lipped smile and bent to grab two bumper plates of ten kgs each, quickly rolling them over the bar. You took a deep breath, and slid your ear pods back on into your ears, positioning yourself next to the deadlifts. You sat back, pushing your bum out, as though you were going to sit on an invisible stool, your knees and hips bent as you reached down to grab the barbell.

A loose grunt escaped your lips, and Sam's eyes widened while Bucky almost snorted, but tried to cover it up with a cough. Your hands were fiercely gripping the barbell but you could feel a bead of sweat trickle down against your forehead. You had been lifting 75 kgs for a long time now and today you were feeling that something wasn't right.

Yet, you took a deep breath, and steadied your stance once again, finally grunting and puffing up your cheeks, you stood up, bringing the bar up with you, the bar dragging along your shins on the way up. It was difficult, but you were able to do it.

A sharp exhale shot out of Sam's mouth, causing Bucky's attention to snap from your form, that he didn't know he was literally now staring at. He had wanted you to fail, but now, he didn't know anymore. He was actually enjoying watching you like this. He didn't realize he was staring, at the same time, moistening his dry lips with his tongue when Sam distracted him. When his eyes fell on Sam, for some weird reason, his eyebrow twitched. Sam was watching you, his eyes trained to your ass, as he was watching you work out.

"Sam. I thought you were done?" Bucky's voice suddenly filled the room; at the same time, you let the barbell drop to the mat with a loud thud, gasping for air as you moved away from it.

"What?" You asked, eyeing both Sam and Bucky as they were looking at you, and the both of them just shrugged so you ignored them and grabbing your energy drink , propped yourself on the bench where Bucky was sitting at and started chilling.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Bucky stared at the blonde in front of his eyes; she was one of the agents that worked here, but all she did was the paperwork. She had been throwing these glances towards him recently and he had been rolling his eyes at her, annoyed to be even getting that attention from her. He didn't consider them his type but for some reason, he licked his lips this time, when his eyes raked over her slender frame, causing him to let out a soft gush or air from his lips.

Clearing his throat, he walked up to where the agent was standing, hunched over a desk, until she heard his voice, and a scarlet hue took over her cheeks.

"Sergeant Barnes–"

"Uh, I just wanted to check if –" Bucky mumbled, but his brain froze, and he couldn't come up with a good excuse. He frowned at himself, mentally cursing himself at how great he used to be in picking up girls back in the 1940s.

"–If, uh, Natasha Romanoff is back from her mission?"

Yeah, how pathetic was that? He thought to himself.

"Miss Romanoff isn't coming back for another week now," Bucky could note the way she was curling her index finger around a loose strand of her hair, which was a clear indication that she wanted him to ask her out. Who was he kidding, he was literally fighting an urge to grab her with his metal arm and pin her against the wall, tearing her clothes apart.

"Uh, I also wanted to ask you if you wanted to –" Bucky couldn't say it out loud, and he had no idea why.

It was only when the girl suddenly threw herself on him, her lips slamming ferociously on his, did he finally wrap his metal arm around her waist to hold her securely.

"Let's take this to my apartment, doll."

After your workout, you had retired to your apartment, snuggled up under your covers, with your favourite book in your hand. You didn't have the training for another five hours now, and you had the time to chill. You didn't realize when, while reading, your eyes fluttered shut, and you dozed off into a deep slumber, snoring lightly until a sudden thump from the other side of the wall woke you up.

You felt dizzy and disoriented, but you crept out from underneath your covers and stood up, stretching into a wide yawn when a high pitched moan reached your ears. Your nose scrunched up in annoyance, and since you had no idea who stayed in the apartment next to you, you shook your head wondering who this person was, who couldn't even wait for the night to actually have a little time of fun.

Maybe out of spite, and out of jealousy at the lack of an active sex life; hell you didn't date anyone ever since your nasty divorce almost two years back with Wallis, you strode up to the wall and banged your palm hard against the wall, screaming at the top of your lungs, "Hey, can you bloody keep it down there? I'm trying to take a nap."

You had only stepped away now, and were making your way towards the bathroom, smirking to yourself in victory, that the noises had died down when suddenly, the voices were back again, and this time, they were even louder than what you had heard the last time.

Frustrated, you huffed in defeat, slamming the bathroom shut.

Almost half an hour later, you stepped out of your apartment, having decided to go out and explore the city a little, maybe meet a few of your friends and have a drink when at the same time, the door to the next apartment opened and your eyes widened, when you saw Bucky step out, his hair disheveled, and his slacks hanging loosely from his hips. He didn't have a tshirt on, and the metal on his arm was looking even more prominent, because of which you couldn't help but let yourself take a good quick glance of his body.

He was an arrogant bastard, a cocky motherfucker, but he was really sexy, you couldn't deny it.

You couldn't deny that you had thought about him, while working out at times, imagining yourself positioned underneath him, as he did his push ups on top of you.

You groaned due to your thoughts, a little too loudly, and Bucky turned your way. The edge of lip was slightly shot upwards as though he had been smirking, and you swear you saw a hickey just at the nape of his neck. Just then, a strikingly beautiful blonde stepped out of his apartment straightening her outfit, giving you a quick, nervous glance before he darted away.

"That was fun, doll. See you soon." Bucky called out, his voice barging through the hallway, before he shot you a quick glance and disappeared into his apartment, his door slamming shut.

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