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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

Spiral

Bucky Barnes x teacher reader

Warnings: AANGST Arguments, mean Bucky, break up, make up, fluffff

listen, don’t eat me alive for this, I’ve been craving some angst (with a happy ending), the type that makes my chest itch so here we are. If this is too toxic for you and you only live for sunshine and rainbows and perfect communication, then this is not the fic for you. He gets mean because that’s what I wanted. So mean. I wanted to feel physical pain while reading. But then my hamster brain got exhausted to write more groveling. So don’t come at me about “she shouldn’t have taken him back, he should’ve begged and groveled more” He groveled.

You sighed, rubbing sleep away from your eyes, trying to get them to focus on the time on the clock.

2:57 AM

You stretched out some of the kinks from your neck after falling asleep on the couch, reaching for your phone and squinting at the bright screen, all your calls and texts left unanswered. He didn’t respond to one. You sat up hearing the lock click open, some of your anxiety melting away hearing the thud of his bag hit the floor.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah” He toed off his boots and shrugged off his jacket, heading straight for the bedroom without even looking your way, his shoulders heavy from exhaustion. You followed him to your shared bedroom, taking his bag from him and unpacking it while he stripped his clothes off getting ready to take a shower.

“What time did you guys get back?”

“Couple hours ago” He grunted, tossing his clothes into the hamper, heading to the bathroom and clicking the lock shut. You blinked, slightly taken aback by his coldness but it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this side before. Bucky had improved a lot with his stress and how he handled missions but ones that involved casualties or hydra would pull him into deep waves of despair, holding him down till he nearly drowned.

You swallowed the uneasiness that crept up your spine; now wasn’t the time to ask him why he hadn’t let you know he was back safe or why he had ignored all your messages. He would have been busy with reports and right now he was drained. You went to grab his Henley and some boxer briefs, laying them out on the bed for him as soon as you heard the water shut off. He emerged out with his towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his short locks while you grabbed his clothes, handing it to him before he went to the closet.

“Here, I already got them out of the closet”

He half mumbled in response, pulling his clothes on and falling into bed, snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow. You weren’t a fan of him sleeping with wet hair, grabbing a dry towel and gently patting his hair as best as you could without waking him. He mumbled something again, pulling the sheet higher on himself and tucking himself further away from you, unbothered with his still semi damp hair. You jolted at the sound of your phone buzzing, Sam’s caller ID lighting up the screen.

“Hey Sam”

“Big guy get home alright?”

“He did, why?”

“Hm” You could hear the hesitation in his voice, “He’s been pretty out of it these past few missions, probably because he’s exhausted. Tony’s told him to sit out a couple of them but he’s there anyway. Stubborn as hell”

“He really is” You shook your head, frowning at his sleeping form. Usually you found his stubbornness endearing but not when it was taking a toll on his health.

“We uh...” Sam paused again, contemplating on if he should tell you his next words, deciding facing Bucky’s wrath would be better than losing him all together. “I know he’ll kick my ass for telling you this but we nearly lost him today”

Your mouth dried up, heart rapidly hammering against your ribcage. You couldn’t get any words out to acknowledge what he’d just said but you heard him loud and clear.

“Oh”

“It’s a lot, I know. Maybe talk to him. He’s getting reckless, it’s going to get him killed. We’ve tried talking to him but you know how-”

“Yeah” You blurted out, your mind now racing along with your heart, your body feeling hot. You could feel your anxiety sky rocket at the thought of Bucky endangering himself, never coming home to you again. The way your bed would feel empty. The way your soul would leave along with him. You couldn’t speak anymore, humming and mumbling the rest of the conversation. “Thanks Sam”

You slipped under the covers, sleep not taking over as easily. Your anxiety at an all time high. Bucky used to text you as soon as he got back. Not a single one of your calls would be left unanswered. Running to you the second the jet landed. He’d never leave your side, taking you into the shower with him and making love to you till the sun came up with endless cuddles afterwards. Even after some of his darkest missions, he’d search for you eventually, seeking your comfort and warmth.

Now?

Nothing.

You groaned hearing the alarm go off, forcing yourself out of bed and going through your routine, getting ready for work and packing your things for the day. Your movements were shaky, the conversation with Sam screaming in your head while you poured some coffee and got started on breakfast. You wanted to scream and cry so badly but you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be a productive conversation when Bucky was like this anyway. You ended up running on autopilot, thinking about the lessons you’d teach for the day, supplies you still had to order for the classroom, the nagging parent that wanted to arrange a meeting after school. Bucky trudged into the kitchen a few minutes after you, setting on a bowl of cereal, his eyes sullen from a lack of proper sleep.

“Can I make something for you?” you tested the waters to gauge his mood though you could see from his face he was still mentally elsewhere. He shook his head, huffing in frustration when the utensil drawer jammed, squeezing his eyes shut to collect himself before trying to open it again.

“Sweetheart, let me get that for you” You set down your things, realizing that his exhausted state made his patience wear thin.

“It’s fine” He tried to push the frustration he felt down, his teeth gritted as spoke, yanking at the drawer once more.

“It’s probably stuck, just pull it slowly-”

“I said I got it”

“But-”

“I’m not one of your fucking students!” He stated louder than necessary, pulling the drawer out with more force than he intended, all the contents inside crashing and clanking to the floor. You yelped in surprise, ignored the shakiness you started to feel coursing through your body, stepping towards Bucky instead, your heart breaking over how lost and worn out he looked.

“Baby I didn’t say that-

“Why the fuck do you treat me like a child then?! Taking out my clothes, drying my hair, making my breakfast, texting and calling 100 times when I’m away. Do I look like I’m incapable of taking care of myself?” He spat, taking a step back from you when you tried to reach out from him, his brows furrowed, blue eyes glaring at you. You couldn’t help but let your anger bubble over, how dare he yell at you when he was the one carelessly putting his life at risk at risk on a daily basis.

“Honestly?!” Your composure started to crumble, your eyes boring into his sleep deprived face, “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it”

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, scoffing while you continued to stare at him. He slammed the drawer shut, not bothering to pick up what had fallen as he started to walk away from the kitchen and back to the bedroom.

“Fuck this, I don’t need this” He shook his head while you followed him, going straight to the closet to grab his duffle bag he took for overnight missions.

“What exactly do you not need” You tried to take a deep breath in, not wanting to upset him more when he wasn’t in a good state of mind.

“You”

Oh.

“I don’t need you or your coddling” He started to grab handfuls of his clothes, shoving them haphazardly in his bag. “It’s suffocating y/n”

You watched him in silence, squeezing your nails into your palms, desperately trying to hold it together while he continued to pack the few belongings he had.

“Having someone constantly nag you about your whereabouts, doubt if you can even take care of your basic needs. Its-it’s just exhausting”

You swallowed away the tightness that constricted your throat, not wanting to aggravate him further even though your own emotions were now thrown for a loop. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t your Bucky.

“James, all you had to do was just tell me you were safe, you used to answer your messages, I worry about y-

“Well don’t! Because I don’t worry about you. Alright? There. That’s why I don’t message”

You wordlessly stared at him, your mouth dry as if you’d swallowed cotton. Your chest felt like you had been hit by a truck, feeling pain on the inside as your heart strings snapped one by one each time he spoke.

“I don’t message because I don’t care. When I come back I just-I just want to be left alone. That's why I spend so much time at the compound after. I don’t exactly feel like rushing home”

You wanted to bite your tongue, walk away but the words were falling from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Clearly you don’t care! Is that why the fuck you take on so many missions when you’re clearly worn the fuck out? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job” Bucky growled while you willed yourself to not let him see you cry, your eyes betraying you as tears welled in your lash line.

“It’s not doing your job if you’re dead Bucky!” Hot tears were now rolling down your cheeks, any resolve you previously had thrown out the door.

“You don’t know anything” Bucky shook his head, scoffing and pushing past you while you pathetically trailed behind him, unable to stop this train wreck of an argument.

“What?”

He finally turned to face you, dropping his bag in the living room, his sullen eyes daring you to try and stop him from leaving. You were about to open your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“What the fuck do you know y/n, you get to go in every morning, coddle some children for 8 hours, then you come back home, fucking try and do the same shit with me after like you have nothing better to do, too stupid to realize I can take care of myself. Why would I need you? Huh? Tell me” He challenged, the rational side of his brain kicking and screaming at him to stop but he was too far gone, too deprived of everything to stop the venom he was spitting. “I don’t need you. I don’t fucking want you”

“Th-that’s how you feel?” Bucky blinked at the sound of your voice cracking, though his ego and anger at the rest of the world not letting him back down. He shrugged, his stomach now churning over your stoic expression but your eyes giving away how much he was hurting you. “Fine”

You didn’t move a muscle as he grabbed his bag and headed out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Every single fiber in your body wanted to crumble to the floor, wishing it would swallow you whole. You pushed back all the emotions that wanted to crash all over the floor, shakily packing your things up and rushing out the door, hoping your little ones would distract you enough to get through the day.

If anything they made it worse.

Every one one of your students knew something was off, seeing right past the smile you had plastered onto your face, doing your best to appear normal. You fought off tears as your third graders quietly made you cards to make you feel better during their recess time, a few of them even leaving portions of their snack on your desk, hoping it’d make you smile. You avoided reading any of the sweet little notes, knowing you’d break down into sobs if you read them.

As soon as you got home, all your pent up sadness turned into rage. Angry tears streamed down your face as soon as you locked the door shut, the soft scent of home, of your Bucky now made your stomach turn. You hated that the whole place suffocated you with him, pictures of you both, his records and books on the shelves, a Henley on the couch. The kitchen was no better, plums on the counter, his favorite coffee in the cupboard, a Captain America mug still in the sink.

You desperately wanted to shower and crawl into bed but the shared bedroom was the worst of all. You couldn’t stand to be in the space where his clothes were, the sheet still lingering with his soft scent that used to make you feel safe and remind you of home. You didn’t even realize you had broken down into sobs on the floor, all the pent up emotions you had kept in you spilling out all at once.

The last thing you wanted to do was coddle and suffocate Bucky, his words echoing in your head.

I don’t message because I don’t care

What do you know, y/n?

I don’t need you.

I don’t fucking want you.

Fine.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got home, blinking at the dark house, usually you’d leave at least one light on. He had made it clear he was leaving, he couldn't expect you to be waiting at the front door with open arms. He stood for a moment, wondering if you had perhaps gone to bed early but it was eerily quiet. He didn’t like the cold silence that greeted him, it didn’t take him long to realize you weren’t there.

Yet there was an inkling of hope that maybe. Just maybe you were somewhere around.

“Y/n?”

Nothing.

He made his way right to the bedroom, only to be met with more cold silence. Bucky’s mind swirled, regret, guilt and shame constricting his neck once again. As soon as he had walked out, he wanted nothing more than to run back into the house and take it all back, tell you he didn’t mean a word of what he said. He wanted to scoop you in his arms and beg for forgiveness and shower you with love for the way you cared about him so much. He let his feet carry him away instead, not being able to think straight, frustration and pain feeding the caged monster he unleased on you.

The last person that deserved it.

Where had you gone?

Did it matter?

He paced around the room; none of your things were out of place but it was too late for you to have gone on a walk or to grab food. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, feeling nothing but disgust with himself, the image of your sweet fallen face burned in his mind. How could he push away the one person who cared enough to take care of him so tenderly. So gently. So lovingly.

And to say he didn’t care? Or worry?

How could he let those words fall from his lips when you were the reason he stayed alive. It took everything in him to not smash the first thing that came into his hand, of all the reckless and careless things he had done in this life, this was the worst. This hurt more than anything Hydra had put him though. He almost wished they’d take him away again, wipe his memories, wipe away the sound of your voice cracking, wipe away the way you’d softly call for him. Wipe away the feel of your soft hands touching him and soothing him when he couldn't sleep-

Wipe everything away because he was selfish.

Unable to exist with he guilt of knowing he’d hurt you so much.

His hands were working faster than his brain could comprehend, calling the first person he could think of, desperate to know you were at least okay and alive before he purged the city to look for you.

“Nat-”

“She’s here” Nat deadpanned, cutting the call immediately after. He knew by her tone of voice, there would be no point in trying to call back. He had no right to see you. No right to come and ask for you to come back. He had no right for anything yet he had already broken off into a sprint. He made it very clear he didn’t want you, very clear you meant nothing, very clear he was the most fucked up idiot in the world, completely undeserving of your love.

But he was selfish.

He loved you.

Bucky didn’t waste a second, hopping onto his motorbike and speeding off to the compound, bounding to the elevators and immediately to Nat’s door. He barely raised his hand to knock, the red head reluctantly opening the door to a disheveled Bucky.

“She doesn’t want to see you”

“Nat, please-

“Barnes. She doesn’t want to see you” She threw in with a shrug, her green eyes challenging him to argue back.

“I want to see her” His voice was small, hopeful, only to be met with a scoff and eyeroll, the assassin stepping out of the room and gently shutting the door behind her.

“So you can tell her you don’t want her?” Nat crossed her arms while Bucky felt his insides crumble more, his own words taunting him.

“She told you?”

“Not much because even now, she’s more worried about you instead of how you treated her” Nat glared at the super solider as he hung his head, knowing damn well he had already been spiraling for weeks, his explosion a result of pent up pain and stress left undealt with. “Y’know you could’ve lost it on one of us but not her, she’s always been there for you in ways no one else could”

Bucky felt his throat tighten, unable to get any words out as he silently nodded and made his way to a different floor to sleep in a guest room. Of course he didn’t sleep, tears staining the pillow, struggling to keep his sobs down. He spent the rest of the night all the way till morning pacing up and down the hall instead, waiting for you to wake up, ignoring the glare Nat gave him when she saw him sitting on the floor outside of her room. As soon as the door clicked open again, Bucky scrambled to his feet, rushing to your side.

“Y/n-

“Don’t”

You couldn’t bare to look at him, turning on your heel with your bag slung over your shoulder. Bucky reached for your wrist, weakly grasping it, the undeserving inkling of hope he had slowly dissolving when he felt your muscles tense.

“I’m sor-

“I said don’t. I don’t want to hear it” You shook your head, tugging your hand away and continuing down the hall while Bucky trailed behind you like a puppy.

“Angel, angel please wait!” He caught up with you, moving to block your path, but you shoved his chest, pushing him aside, gritting you teeth together till you made it outside. You would not let him see you break twice.

“No”

“Angel, I-I need-”

“You made it very clear you don’t need much. I’m not something you need” You cut him off before he could finish, unable to shake off the way the words he cut you deep, tangled around you like barbed wire. Your words cut him right back, his chest filling with even more guilt and regret.

“That’s not true baby” His voice trembled, looking at your tear stained cheeks and puffy face. He’d never forgive himself over the pain he’d caused you, itching to pull you in his arms but how could he when he made you cry in the first place.

“Don’t call me that” You scoffed, feeling your throat tighten, your vision cloudy with fresh tears. You kept your eyes trained towards the elevator, hoping to escape before the damn broke.

“But you are”

“No, I’m not” You shook your head, “You can get the rest of your things today, you won’t have to worry about not rushing home anymore” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, dashing towards the doors as soon as they opened and striding through the compound till you got to your car. The skin on your knuckles was pulled tight as you gripped the steering wheel, breathing slowly till you got home. Everything came crashing down again as soon as you were back in your room; it wouldn’t have hurt this much if you didn’t actually love him

But you did.

Bucky looked defeated as the elevator doors closed, his heart breaking further when you didn’t spare him a second glance. He didn’t bother wiping away the tears that were now streaming down his face as he made his way back to the guest room, ignoring Steve’s concerned glance and slamming the door shut. As expected, there was a knock at the door moments later, blond hair and blue eyes peering inside, unbothered by the death glare Bucky was shooting him.

“You did something” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at his bestfriends guilt ridden face, staring at his feet like an admonished child. Bucky chewed at his lip, figuring there was no point in lying at this point, if anything he deserved the scolding he’d inevitably get.

“I messed up”

“That would appear so” Steve nodded, urging him to continue.

“I said a lot of things”

“You should apologize”

“I can’t apologize for the things I said” Bucky shook his head, his voice trembling again, “I-I can’t just say sorry. It’s been weeks. Weeks of giving her shit. This just- it was too much. Y-you should have seen her face Steve”

Steve remained silent, letting him continue.

“Fuck- I-, y’know she goes as far as drying my hair if I try to sleep while its still damp? Even when it’s late? and she has work the next morning”

“And the problem is? She always takes care of you, I’ve seen it myself”

Bucky scoffed at himself, shaking his head while fidgeting with his hands.

What was his problem.

He had a girl that actually gave a fuck about him, wanting to know if he was safe and loving him enough to take care of him even when he was broken.

“I got mad at her for it” His voice was a whisper, dripping in shame, “She’d waited for me to get home, took care of me and I yelled at her”

“Explain” Steve didn’t like where the conversation was going but he wasn’t about to let Bucky off the hook without finding out exactly what happened. “All of it”

“I-I was tired. I got frustrated when a drawer got stuck and lashed out on her and told her I didn’t want her. Didn’t need her. Had no interest in seeing her. It had already been a long time of me just not seeing or talking to her properly in general”

“Bucky”

“I know” He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Steve’s face. “and a lot of other shit. And I can’t take it back”

“No, you can’t” Steve agreed, much to Bucky’s discontent but again, his best friend wouldn’t lie and he had brought this all on himself. “You actually care about her?”

“I fucking love her” Bucky’s eyes shot up, full confidence in his voice, he, without a single doubt in his soul, loved you completely.

“Then give her time. You hurt her, Buck”

Bucky nodded, hating that he had no choice now but to wait. He quietly collected his things while you were at work, not wanting to torment you further.

You hadn’t spoken to Bucky for weeks. Every time your missed him, thought about him, picked up your phone to call and check on him, you remembered what he told you.

He didn’t want you.

You downed another drink, staying tucked away at a booth while Natasha and Wanda went off dancing, the both of them dragging out out of the house, insisting you had to get out. Even after the break up, they remained close to you. No amount of make up could cover the puffiness and redness of your eyes or mask the way your voice was stuffy from nights of crying to sleep but there you were. On your third glass.

“Someone looks happy to be here”

Your eyes searched the crowd for the familiar voice, eventually landing on Sam, his eyebrows playfully wiggling as he slid into your booth. You relaxed when you saw he hadn’t come with Bucky but you knew based off his face, there was something on his mind.

“I think you both should talk”

There it is.

“There’s nothing to talk about” You shrugged, swirling your drink around with your straw while Sam sighed.

“You’re both miserable”

“I made him miserable” You countered, nervously fidgeting with your fingers instead.

“You know that’s not true-” Sam started but the scoff you let out let him know that was a pointless road to go down, “Okay fine. Things weren’t great. But it was an abrupt end and he’s been kicking himself and you don’t look like you’re doing so hot either sweetheart”

“Thanks” You deadpanned while he grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“He’s really trying for you, y/n” Sam said softly, the playfulness in his voice replaced with sincerity.

“What do you mean?”

“Talk to him”

You spent the rest of the week contemplating what Sam said but every time you picked up your phone, you dropped it again. You messages would probably be ignored and he likely hated you even more. Which is why you were curled up on the couch, trying not to think about him, having a night for yourself, hoping not to be tempted with your phone though a soft thump at the door pulled you away from the story. You set down the book you were reading, growing nervous when you heard the sound again. You were sure you were just hearing things but this time it was more clear. The second knock at the door made you blink, curious to know who would come by at this time.

“Bucky?” You gasped, surprised to find him standing on the other side, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, the stems nearly crushed from how nervous he was, “What-what are you doing here?”

“It’s-fuck, it’s been hell sweets” Bucky whispered, his knees already ready to give way, the smell of home, the sight of you, all making him feel overwhelmed. “Hell knowing I hurt you”

You stepped aside to let him in, not wanting to keep him in the hallway. Bucky stayed rooted in place on the welcome mat, not wanting to cross a boundary if you didn’t want him there. He hesitantly came in when you gave him a small nod, his movements shaky as he toed his boots off and followed you to the living room, the both of you standing in silence.

“You said you didn’t want me” You kept your eyes trained on your feet, tears already threatening to spill over, you could feel the warmth of his body with how close he was, smell the scent of his laundry detergent, his cologne, the leather of his jacket.

“How could I not want you sweets, you’re one of the reasons I’m alive-”

“Didn’t seem that way”

“I know baby, but-”

“Don’t call me that James” You shook your head, your heart twisting hearing his pleading voice, the sweet names he had for you making you weak.

“No” Bucky shook his head as he felt his stomach drop at the sound of his name coming from your mouth, he despised it, hated it, “ m’not James, m’your Bucky, your Jamie, your baby, please-”

“You’re not a lot of things” You tried to keep your voice steady but it was already beginning to crack, your nails digging into your palms to keep from pulling him into you when he stepped closer.

“I’m sorry”

You remained silent, swallowing the lump that made your throat tighter, your vision blurry.

“I’m so sorry doll, please?”

You could hear the quiver in his voice, now barely a whisper, the sniffle between his words making your lip tremble.

“Please?”

The soft sob that slipped past your lips at his pleading voice broke Bucky, his legs giving way, desperate to take away everything he did to hurt you. He was on his knees, his face buried in your tummy, his tears soaking your shirt. His cries were muffled as he tried to burry his face in further, desperately clinging onto you while you hesitantly brought a hand to card through his hair.

“Why” You still felt like you had so many things left unanswered.

“It was never you baby” Bucky kept himself hidden from you, his arms hugging you tightly while continuing to rest against your stomach. “I-I kept everything inside and it spilled onto you, I don’t have the words- M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish because I want you, I want to love you, I want everything you give me, I miss you, I missed you, I shouldn’t have walked out, m’sorry”

You hummed, petting his hair softly, the simple action causing him to feel even more emotional.

“Please, wanna be your Bucky, please, I’m sorry doll” He nervously tilted his face up, his chin still pressed against your stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. You placed your hand on his scruffy cheek, which he instantly leaned into, your thumb swiping away his tears.

“I-I’m scared” You said truthfully, every single fiber in your body wanting to pick him up and cling onto him forever but you were nervous. He walked out once...

“I’ll give you all the space you need. Just please give me another chance, it doesn’t have to be today or soon, just- I promise I’ll do better doll”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours to pull him to his feet, letting him sit on the couch with you. Bucky placed the flowers he was till clutching onto on the coffee table before sitting beside you, mindful to keep some space in between.

“I-I told Tony to pull me out of missions”

“What?”

Bucky nodded with a small smile, it was the first thing he did when he realized he had to take care of himself first before coming back to you. You’d done enough of picking up his broken pieces.

“The missions weren’t good for me. Too many, a lot of them triggering. I needed to pull back but I kept going. Didn’t stop until I ended up hurting you. Figured it was time I spoke up. Even started to see a therapist”

“You did?” You couldn’t help but inch closer to him, knowing exactly how much he struggled with opening up.

“I did it for me so I could be better for you” Bucky stated honestly; he made the choice to better himself because that’s what you deserved. “You don’t have to take me back right away-

“Come back home” You whispered, meeting his eyes with your teary ones, you’d take it slow if you had to but you wanted to do it with him by your side.

“Are you sure?” Bucky’s heart hammered out of his chest, not wanting to get his hopes up or make you feel like he was pressuring you, “I’ll wait if you need more time-”

“Come back home” You cut him off, biting your lip to keep from crying again, clawing into his lap, his arms engulfing you into a tight hug while you clung onto him, burying your face into his neck. He smelled like love, home, your heart. The feel of his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe and whole again.

“Come home, Bucky” You hugged him tighter while he pulled away, his hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“Bucky?” He whispered, having missed the way his name sounded, the softness of your voice, the way you fit with him.

“My Bucky” You nodded, letting your forehead rest against his, pressing a soft kiss to his nose.

“Jamie?”

“My Jamie”

“Baby”

“My baby”

“M’never leaving again, angel”

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chronically-ghosted · 3 months

Text

i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

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“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?”

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.”

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself.

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion.

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you.

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?”

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall.

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?”

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that.

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin?

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more.

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came?

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.”

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking.

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest.

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled.

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed.

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.”

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts.

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough.

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress.

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.”

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again.

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring.

“It, uh, popped.”

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?”

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall.

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook.

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist.

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you.

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!”

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast.

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.”

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing.

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more.

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?”

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter.

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back. “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?”

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.”

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.”

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?”

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly.

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release.

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.”

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door.

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books.

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?”

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better.

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?”

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all.

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.”

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo.

Funny how that all fucking worked out.

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off.

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.”

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh.

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,”

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.”

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest.

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.”

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.”

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear.

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.”

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you.

Don’t look at me like that.

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded.

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot.

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night.

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn.

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you.

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,”

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.”

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar.

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.”

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night.

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life.

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm.

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you?

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once.

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and –

Does not find a bra.

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open.

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him.

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure.

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits.

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it.

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head.

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him.

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?”

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely.

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror.

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you.

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo.

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress.

“C’mere, baby girl–,”

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his.

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air –

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses.

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder.

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.”

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are.

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches.

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl.

God, he’s so hard it hurts.

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try.

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.”

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass.

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him.

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan.

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched.

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all.

Families share similar insecurities, after all.

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts.

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,”

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain.

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales.

Girlsex.

Girlsweat.

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell.

He wants . . . to put his dick into something.

But first –

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan.

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal.

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top.

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent.

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have.

Even when you left him, you’d never forget –

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip.

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

Settle down. We’re only just getting started.

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next.

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you.

Oh my God, duh, fingers.

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed.

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt.

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him.

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like–

Do not fucking come right now.

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.”

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off.

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.”

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it.

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee.

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher –

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open.

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you.

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.”

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you.

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation.

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness.

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress.

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain.

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it.

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear.

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes.

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it.

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.”

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock.

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once.

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.”

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick.

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more.

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears.

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles.

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much.

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned.

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast.

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.”

I want to die in this cunt.

“So good, baby.”

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you.

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance.

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees.

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders.

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it.

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips.

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing –

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.”

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours.

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point– all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.”

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw.

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you.

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you.

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes.

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him.

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.”

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet.

“David.”

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood.

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.”

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.”

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest.

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears.

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard.

“Holy shit.”

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps.

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are.

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.”

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.”

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him.

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant.

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece.

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.”

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum.

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple.

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.”

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase.

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests.

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets.

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip.

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.”

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize.

You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once.

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.”

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone.

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty.

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off.

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this.

I never want to see you again.

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%.

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame.

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside.

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean.

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap.

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.”

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .”

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.”

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all.

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but.

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table.

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist.

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.”

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face.

“Guess so.”

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him.

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling.

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #f!reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfic

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klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Hi, could you write a reader who’s not dating klaus but is jealous of how close cami has been getting to klaus and decides she is basically going to get klaus first and to prove to cami that he’s hers she plans for cami to walk in while she’s riding him

And I knew that he was mine

It was infuriating seeing them together.

Seeing how she flips her long blonde hair about and as she sits and listens to Klaus talk about his emotions.

Now it took me way too long to get Klaus to open up, and yet he just immediately tells her everything?

We had a much better relationship than him and her. I mean everyone knows it. Even his siblings have asked if we’re dating. Camille is simply a therapist.

However she seems to think a little differently.

To begin with we were civil and we both had our places in his life but then she started getting touchier…flirtatious and affectionate. And her glances at me were directed, she knew what she was doing.

I didn’t like that ugly feeling that bubbled inside me whenever she was near or someone mentioned her but I couldn’t stop it. It began to hurt more and more. I found myself being clingier to Klaus, not that he seemed to mind.

“Are you alright my love? You look upset?” He hummed as he put his hand to my cheek making me lean against it

“I was just thinking…nothing to worry about” i murmured as i nuzzled his hand

“Well since you have so much to think about perhaps you should sleep here? We have more than enough room, would you stay the night?”

And on what planet would I say no?

I was more than happy to agree, know I’m that Camille had yet to sleep at the Mikaelsons house. It was stupid of me to make everything about that but it was all i could think of.

I hadn’t have thought i could love someone the way I do Klaus and yet now I am fighting to prove he is mine even though he is not.

I craved him, his eyes on me, his hands on me, his words to me.

I would blush and smile, laugh and lean towards him but it wasn’t enough. She was still coming around.

Even when he started opening up to me, she was still his go to.

It was disheartening.

I found myself upset over it far too often, overthinking it and making myself cry. Accidentally in front of him once when he started talking about how great of a friend she was

“My love…what’s happened? Did i say something?” His arms were around me in an instant, his warmth surrounding me

“No I- I’m sorry i was just-“

“Thinking? Love, what’s going on inside your head?” He would ask softly, his hand holding the back of my head gently as I snuggled into him

“I don’t know” i whispered because it was just as confusing for me too.

“You know that I care for you my love, yes? I want you to be happy” he told me

“You make me happy” I mumbled

“And you make me happy too sweetheart”

He often held me rather close to him. There were even occasions when we fell asleep together, me in his lap or lead against his chest with his arms tightly around me so I wouldn’t leave him. Id even been in his bed a few times after lounging with him, waking up with his body pressed to mine, mine tucked to his perfectly.

Being with him so much was addicting, I never wanted to leave him.

So when I walked into his artroom to see him and Camille studying one of his drawings I felt my heart ache. Why did still need her?

I needed a way to make her leave him alone. To tell her once and for all that he was just mine.

It was much easier than I had thought. I had learnt that on the occasion he did see her it was a Tuesday afternoon.

So I made sure to get there late morning to see him.

His surprise was clear on his face but he also looked rather pleased.

“My love…did I miss your call?” He asked as he quickly approached me and kissed my cheek

“No i didn’t call, sorry, i just dropped by…are you busy?” I asked looking up at him through my lashes

“Of course not love, I’m never too busy for you. What were you thinking of doing today?” He murmured taking my hand

“Well…I thought maybe you could paint me? You’ve asked to before but we didn’t have time and well I don’t have much to do” i said with a smile seeing his face light up

“Oh what a wonderful idea, come my love, we will set it all up”

And he painted me over the next few hours. He had gone as far as unbuttoning my blouse to reveal my lace bra beneath- “your body is too beautiful to not add” he murmurs as his fingers skimmed my breasts and he opened the shirt with a lick of his lips.

I was already in little denim shorts so my legs were smooth and ready. He seemed to appreciate that as his hands glided over them “you are the perfect muse” he told me as he held the back of my knee gently and bent my leg as much as he thought necessary.

Once he had finished and showed me…well the room was a lot more tense.

I was basically stood in my underwear with how small my shorts were and my top was barely even on.

I was stood right infront of him, my eyes his art and his on me. His hands on my hips as his hot breath hit my neck

“Do you like it my love?” He asked, his voice much lower, deeper

“I love it” I whispered, reaching my hand out to trace it only for him to grab it and bring it back to his chest making me turn around to face him

“It’s wet” he murmured making me blush and nod my head

“Sorry”

“Nonsense…It’s only natural to want to touch” he uttered, i let out a little breath as i looked up at him. His hand cupped my face again as his adams-apple bobbed in his throat. His thumb traced my lips making me part them, letting his thumb into my mouth slightly and wrapping my lips back around it. I watched his eyes darken as I sucked it lightly, his hand pushed the back of my head as he let out a small groan

“That’s it love” he murmured, I let my eyes shut as I let out a whimper to stir him on. A quiet growl left his throat as he pulled his hand away and licked it clean himself, groaning again at my saliva.

His hand still held my head, pulling me straight to him to have our lips moving together.

I moaned into his mouth as his other hand wrapped around my waist to keep me to him. I smiled into the kiss and I could feel him doing the same. He pulled away shortly before coming back with wet open mouthed kisses to my mouth.

His hands pushed the blouse entirely off of me, his hands slipping up my back and to my bra and unclipping it. I let it fall off my arms to the ground between us, sighing as his hands and forearms covered my back. My bare breasts pressed to his clothed chest as he pushed me against the wall of his artroom. He pulled away after repeatedly kissing my lips, only the sounds of our mouths meeting each others bouncing off of the walls. He looked down at me with near black eyes, glancing between my lips and my exposed breasts. My face immediately flushed as i cleared my throat and moved my hands to cover myself

“No- no let me see” he muttered his hands grabbed mine, the exposure had my heart racing…embarrassment crawling up me because what if this was just a quick fuck for him?

I looked back to him, his hands held my breasts tenderly as his brows furrowed

“Klaus…” I muttered unsurely and his eyes quickly darted to mine. I was beginning to doubt my plan, what if it was awkward after? What if I was leading him straight to Cami?

“My love?” His hand was back on my face making me snap back to reality

“Yeah?” I whispered

“Do you want me to stop?”

I blinked at him “I- I don’t know” his face softened as he kissed my forehead

“You know i wouldn’t hurt you” he muttered, his hands brushing the hair out of my face

“I just…What does this mean?” I asked quietly and he smiled a little

“It means you’re mine” he stated, his lips pressed to mine lightly before i pulled away

“And you’re mine?” I questioned

“Of course, who else could I ever want?” He asked, his lips on mine again after, his hands moving down my back. “We don’t have to do anything else…I just want to kiss you” he murmured, pushing me against the wall again. I opened my legs enough to let his knee move between them, i let out a breath into his open mouth as my damp panties rubbed against my denim shorts with rubbed against his thigh. I looked up at him to see his eyes near gold as he watched my body grind against him. His eyes stayed there even after I tugged his henley off my hands explored his body.

Only when I let out a loud moan as the pleasure began to burn pleasurably did he look at my face. His hand moved to my ass and held me still making me let out a grunt and a sigh

“There is no possible way that the first orgasm of our relationship is going to be without me inside you” he murmured as he lifted me, my legs clinging to him

“Where are we going?” I asked as he headed towards the door

“My bed of course” he answered is a slightly questioning tone

“I want to do it here” i whispered and he rose a brow

“In my art room?”

“You can paint me after” i breathed, my lips just below his ear as i kissed the spot afterwards to send a shiver down his spine

“Oh” he uttered as i sucked his neck, his breathing a little heavier as I rolled my hips to his again.

I way put onto a large leather couch, his hands tearing my shorts from my body as he kicked his pants off.

“Here it is” he growled as he kissed down the valley of my breasts to my lower stomach. His tongue darted out quickly to touch the hood of my clit, the unexpectedly heat made my hips buck as a breathy moan spill from my mouth. He let out a long groan as he brought his face between my legs and gave a long lick

“Oh god” I whined, his tongue was hot and fast as it lapped, his hands rubbing along my thighs but not stopping my hips from thrusting upward. “Fuck Klaus you have to stop” I panted making him pull away and hover back over me

“Why?” He asked nearly panting himself

“Because I won’t be able to stop myself cumming and I also want you inside me for the first one” I murmured, my hand pulled him down by the back of his neck as he let out an animalistic sound.

“I want a taste after though” he whispered as his mouth pressed to mine making me moan, my legs wrapped tightly around him trying to pull him down

“Please Klaus” I begged and he hummed lowly. He looked between us as i felt his tip slide along and between my folds, my teeth sunk onto my lower lip. One hand held himself up and the other guided his cock. He played at my entrance for a moment, just pushing the head in and out a few times, i was propped up on my elbows watching with anticipation. His face was pulled into one of concentration as he slowly pushed further inside.

My mouth fell open as he just kept filling me, and when i felt full, I look back down to see part of him still outside of me. My walls strained to his size as I clenched around him, almost trying to push him out.

“You alright love?” He asked and i nodded

“Fuck…how…”

He let out a laugh at my reply before slowly drawing his hips back, pain coursed through me as my walls nearly convulsed. He pushed back in with a grunt

“God” he breathed as he looked at me, our eyes locking as his eyes lusted over further.

“Keep going” I muttered with a nod and he did so without question, his body moving away and toward mine a few more times, the pain slipping into pleasure the more he did so.

I could hear just how wet he had made me as he slowly thrust his hips, and when I looked between us again I found barely any of him was left out.

“Can I go faster?” He asked, his hands now either side of me as his hips rolled. I nodded

“Yeah…yeah go faster” I moaned between words feeling him everywhere. He did so soon enough, moving back and worth quicker by each thrust.

My lower abdomen tightened as he brushed past my spot, his hand gripped the arm of the couch above my head as he grunted. I could hear his skin meet mine as he fucked faster, much faster. He let out a throaty moan the more he went on, my body squeezed him tightly as my nails dug into the leather cushions

I distantly heard a door close making me look up at Klaus but he was lost in his state of pleasure, his eyes barely focusing on my face as he pounded into me roughly. I brought my hand up and pulled him down by his neck, his lips back on mine and his hand leaving the arm of the chair to cup my cheek giving me the leverage I needed to roll on top of him.

He grunted into my moan as I rode him, my thighs still tight around his hips as I moved up and down him. I pulled away with a drawn out moan, my hands moving to his chest to keep me up as my hips fucked his.

I panted as he moaned my name, his arm circled my waist pulling my closer, out skin slapping together as he thrust upward to meet my movements. I heard footsteps making me attach my lips back to his hastily, not that he seemed to mind as he groaned as kissed back hungrily.

The door made a quiet ‘creek’ making my eyes open and glance to see a very shocked Camille. I smiled into the kiss as my hips bucked faster, forcing a moaned version of my name to leave him again as i pulled away from the kiss and bounced along him as quick as i could.

I watched her run off with her hand over her mouth and her eyes full of hateful tears.

I looked down at him to see him looking incredibly messy in the hottest of ways. His hair was a state, lips swollen and a smudge of my lipstick coming from the corner, his eyes were like the darkest of storms and he breathed my name like a prayer.

The sight alone could’ve made me cum, let alone him being deep inside me and fucking my spot perfectly with his fingers gliding over my clit rhythmically. I felt myself let go around him, a silent scream leaving my lips as I fucked him through his release, his ropes of cum filling me beyond capacity and covering both of our legs.

I practically collapsed on top of him and he was quick to hug me to him. Both of us panting as we breathed shared air between us. Our bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat as his hot breath fanned over my face, his hand tucking my surely unruly hair behind my ear before kissing my lips gently

“You have- no idea- how much- I needed that” he panted, i lead my head down on his boiling chest as I attempted to steady my breathing. “Believe me, when i tell you that i love you” he whispered and I subconsciously tightened around him, his hand fisting my hair in a response. “And by that- I assume you do to?” He asked and i nodded

“Always” i uttered

“And forever” he finished, his hand still detangling my hair. And I knew that he was mine

(Was sat watching the Kings coronation while writing this yesterday 😭)

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blegh-110 · 4 months

Note

I get the worst cramps, and I think if Y/n got horrible cramps too, Flightless!Tan would be the BEST at taking care of her

not me on my period right now and having cramps as well :((( this will be totally self-indulgent btw

so reader knows when she gonna get her period in a number of ways. one, when she starts breaking out. and she is totally freaking out because she is getting that anxious feeling in her stomach from when her parents would notice this break out and comment on it not very nicely. shes afraid that tangerine will see the red spots and pimples on her face and not think of her as his "pretty girl" anymore :((( and because of this, she starts hiding away from him and trying to stay away from him until it starts to go away. so that means longer showers, sleeping in and staying in bed longer, resisting sitting in his lap and receiving cheek kisses. which does not end up going well because shes soon missing his touch.

second, when her boobs start getting sore and achy :((( she just lounges around the house in pain and all pouty, knowing whats coming in a day or two.

three, when she starts craving a bunch of food and eating whatever. and she always feels like crap after.

at first, tangerine just thinks shes gone a little back into her shell and his simply trying to distance herself because she feels like it. but one morning when he tries getting her out of bed after letting her sleep in for a little too long, he gently tries pulling the blanket of her body but stop when she starts whining and eyes start filling with tears.

"cmon, we dont wanna waste the day again, do we?" tangerine tries pulling at the blanket again but fully stops and drops his hands when she starts crying and tugging at the comforter like its her lifeline. at this, tangerine sits on her bed with a concerned look on his face.

"you have to tell me whats wrong. v' let you sleep in for more than two hours now. are you feeling sick?" tangerine tilts his head to the side to get a better look at her, gently wiping away her tears. he feels relieved when you shake your head.

"then what is it? just tell me and ill do everything i can to fix it."

at his words and calm, low voice. she leans herself into him, hiding her face in his neck to spare her the embarrassment she feels. she closes her eyes when she feels his arms wrap around her, itd been a few days since she felt it.

"got m'period." she whispers so quietly it takes tangerine a second to figure out what she says, it doesn't help that her face is shoved into the crook of his neck.

"well thats okay." he says, but is actually panicking because he hasnt gotten any feminine products for her. he mentally kicks himself for not thinking of this.

"got your sheets all dirty and gross."

"well we do have this thing called a washer and dryer, my love. it kind of cleans what needs to be cleaned," tangerine teases while rubbing comforting circles on her back, "your sheets will be just fine."

after a while, he is finally able to pull you out of bed.

"now, you go do your little morning routine, and im gonna head to the store and get you some stuff, got it?" you nod your head as he walks you to the bathroom, knowing that the first thing you like to do when you get out of bed is brush your teeth.

"okay, now is there a specific brand you prefer?"

you tell him quietly, feeling awkward because you had never had to tell someone this before. but a part of you is relieved that tangerine is not disgusted with you, but instead determined to get through this with you.

"alright, anything else you would like?"

"id like some chocolate, if its okay with you." you stare down at your feet, finding your painted toes very interesting all of a sudden.

"that more than okay with me, what else?"

tangerine writes down all the others stuff you want, and with that, he is out the door and in his car. ready to take away your pain and discomfort.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train imagine #aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine blurb #flightless bird thoughts<3 #aaron taylor johnson

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unabashegirl · 1 year

Text

Safely

Author's note: HAPPY NEW YEARS! I hope you all have plenty of blessings this year. I wish you lots of love and health. In honor of the holiday, I wanted to give you a little piece. A unique piece that only my members of Patreon will be able to read further on. I've been writing it for a few days, and I hope you like it. I was thinking of making her an OC (Patreon exclusive) and make other pieces based on their relationship and surroundings. Let me know in the comments if you liked it!

DISCLAIMER: I decided to make this an OC, exclusively for my Patreon's, but I wanted to share at least ONE PIECE with my Tumblr followers.

It had been an exceptionally long day at work, but she was finally getting into bed and getting some rest. The apartment was noticeably quiet, causing her to struggle to catch sleep. On top of it, her dog was away, and she felt unprotected. Either way, sleep got the most of her, and she allowed herself to fall into it.

“Hello?” Her phone had been ringing for what felt like hours even though it had only been two minutes. It had rung long enough to wake her up. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to check the caller ID. Whomever it was they had pissed Y/N off.

“Kitten” A single word was enough to get rid of any grogginess from her. She pulled her phone away from her ear, trying to read the time. It read 3:06 causing her to groan.

“Please, don't tell me you are arrested again” She heard his attractive chuckle from the other side of the phone. She threw the covers off her body and sat up. Y/N already knew the answer, and she didn’t need it to come out of his lips.

“Where are you?”

“At the apartment” Y/N grabbed the first pair of jeans that she could find in the darkness.

“Why?” She rolled her eyes. He was going to lecture her. She was supposed to be staying in the house with the family. “The fuckin’ dog isn’t even there with yeh! You know where you are supposed to be when I am not home” She could picture him, spatting into the phone, worried about things that weren’t as important.

“This whole authoritarian attitude isn’t such a panty dropper like when we first met” She teased, enjoying how easily his buttons could get pushed.

“Call Henry and tell him to get here and take your ass home”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now, Y/N!” he hung up on her. He worried more about her safety than his. Sure, he had taught her how to defend herself, but he could never be too safe. He wasn’t rude or pushed her around, but his priority was always her safety. Ever since they met on that rainy day.

A stupid mistake had landed him in jail again. The fucking police officers had intercepted one of his calls and had busted in before Harry could put a bullet between the other man’s eyes. Although, the police were the least of his problems.

“Styles? You are free to go” Harry smiled with cockiness as he walked past him. “We’ll get you don’t worry” He stopped and turned to look at him. His eyes scanned for his name on his super chest.

“Copper isn’t?” He was straight out of the academy, and unfortunately, he still had no idea who he was dealing with. “I’ll make sure to remember your name officer cooper” It was an empty promise. He had no intention of going after the young officer. He just enjoyed making people uncomfortable. Harry also hated police officers.

“Here is your shit, Styles” an older officer threw him his phone, wallet, keys, and everything else that he had been carrying in his pockets when he had been detained. He remained quiet, picking his stuff off the counter. He could see Henry and the rest of his closest men outside, waiting for him. “I hope you see you soon here”. He just rolled his eyes and continued walking.

“Give me a cigarette” he interrupted Henry before he could say something to him. He had a few ears to pull or cut off. Henry closed his mouth; without any response, he gave him what he craved. “Let’s go home,” he said after he had gotten in the car. Harry didn’t want to say anything until he was in the comfort and safety of his house. He also craved Y/N. He wanted to see her, but he had to wait because business always came first for the family.

“Harry—”

“I SAID TAKE US HOME!” Henry then feared for his life.

----------

The state was on the outskirts of the city, and he preferred it like that. Even his father had opted for it when he was in charge. Of course, that had been a long time ago. It was much safer for everyone. The entire place was always patrolled by his men and cameras had been set up in every nook and cranny of the property which was why he had been so upset with Y/N earlier. Because there was no safer place.

“Lineup” he sternly dictated; he wasted no time. Harry was going to teach them a lesson in the foyer. He had no energy or patience to take them downstairs or to the other house where he usually took care of business. He lit up another cigarette, trying to ease the anger that was eating him up from the inside out. “Hope you don’t mind” he smiled sadistically, yanking a gun off one of his men. “What’s your name?”.

“Arthur, boss” He gulped heavily, trying his best not to pee on himself.

Harry Styles had a reputation. He ran London’s underworld. Men feared him and he liked it. His father and mother had been assassinated when he was only ten years old. His sister and he had been the only survivors in the family.

“Do you know how many men oversee my personal safety, Arthur?”

“N-no sir”

“Take a guess” he insisted as he finished his cigarette.

“20?” Arthur looked around trying to estimate how many men were forming the line. Harry kept walking from one extreme to the other. He observed the men that had taken an oath to protect and be loyal to him.

“Get in the fuckin’ line, Henry!” He yelled, noticing that he stood behind him. “You know how I hate to repeat myself!”

“But boss—” Harry took four strides in his direction, and suddenly he was in his face. Henry closed his eyes for a second as he felt the cold metal against his temple.

“Don’t be fooled, Henry. I don’t care if you are my second in command. I won’t hesitate to paint the walls of this FUCKIN’ house with your brains. Don’t you ever talk back to me” He threatened. Harry usually wasn’t this stern, but everything had gone to shit tonight. Hence, why he was on the brim of shooting everyone. “Get in line,” he said between his teeth.

“30, Arthur. And do you know what they were doing today while I was in my meeting?” Harry knew who Arthur was, he was also aware that Arthur’s job wasn’t to keep them safe. Harry knew most of his men. He could recognize them by their faces and their names. It was his duty to know everyone who was working under his roof.

“N-no sir”

“They were playing with their balls and cocks!” He yelled then chuckled sarcastically, outraged by their careless behavior. He needed another smoke, and so he lit one up and took a drag. “Now take a step forward if you were in charge of Y/N’s personal security” Much to Harry’s distaste no one stepped forward which only angered him more. He felt as if the blood running through his veins was bubbling. “No one is going to step up. Really?” He yelled and the estate shook. “Peter”.

The man didn’t bulge and so it seemed like Harry was going to take care of it. He grabbed him by the collar and practically dragged him in front of everyone, with his cigarette still tucked between his lips.

“Were or weren’t you in charge of Y/N’s safety?” He asked, walking down the lengthy line of men.

“Sir, the thing is that —”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION! YES, OR NO?”

“Yes,” Harry turned his back to him as he tried his best not to shoot him in the head. He reminded himself that he wasn’t the same man that had met Y/N that cold afternoon. He had changed. His serenity didn’t last long. Suddenly, he turned around and shot Peter in the leg without hesitation or any remorse.

Peter’s screams echoed through the entire house. The bullet had perforated through the skin right below the knee. Everyone in the house could hear his piercing voice. Although no one said anything, and no one did anything. They feared the man holding the gun and respected him enough not to cross him.

“Let this be a lesson for every single one of you. Y/N must always be protected. Someone must always be with her. Especially when I am not around. Her security comes first” He spat and quietly walked up to Peter, who remained on the floor, applying pressure on his wound. He tried his best not to shed a single tear, but it was extremely hard. “Peter might have gotten away with it, but the next time something like this happens. I won’t be this lenient” he threatened.

Harry kneeled before him and pressed the gun to this wound instantly causing Peter to yell in agonizing pain.

“When I ask you to do something — you do it without hesitation. You are lucky that nothing happened to Y/N. Otherwise, I would have tortured you until you begged me to end your life. Make sure this doesn’t ever happen again” He dangerously whispered to him. “Consider yourself lucky, I’m giving you another chance” He retracted with a smile. “You are dismissed” he mumbled, reaching out for the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. Harry cleaned the blood off his gun and finished his cigarette.

Harry was his most patient with her, but not when it came to her safety. Once, he had come close to losing her — incredibly close. From that day forward he promised himself that he would never allow it again. He promised himself that if it ever happened again, he would let her go and never threaten again with her safety. He would detach himself permanently from her life. Even if it pained him and even if it killed him to see her go.

“That was quick” He found her, tucked in bed, her hair up in a bun with her big, framed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She paused her show, wanting to devote her utter attention to him. “What happened downstairs?” she had heard his rough tone but hadn’t been able to make out his exact words.

“Why were you in the apartment?” he asked bluntly, without responding to her. He pulled off his blazer, setting it on the futon by the end of the bed, and then proceeded to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt.

“Because it’s our apartment and I can sleep over there if I want to?”

“What was the only condition in staying in the apartment, pup?” He stood straight, chest puffed out, arms crossed across his chest. His eyebrow raised high and pursed his lips.

“Achilles always had to be with me but Har—”

“And where is Achilles, Y/N?” Harry interrupted her, trying to prove his point.

“Getting trained” Achilles was the dog that Harry had gotten her after she had been released from the hospital. It was a Doberman and after lots of tears and arguing Y/N finally allowed him to leave for training. “So? I had a meeting with a dangerous man. A man that with the snap of his fingers could have sent someone to hurt you” He tried his best not to involve her with his business. He never gave her details or names unless she pressured him into it. “I could have easily found you murdered in the apartment. Or worst, you could have been kidnapped and tortured! When will you learn? All the security that I send with you is for your safety” the thought of losing her made him want to kill himself.

“I am sorry” she frowned, seeing the desperation and concern in his eyes. Y/N was very stubborn, and she knew that she wasn’t easy to handle. “It’s just sometimes, their presence is overbearing, and I feel like I can’t breathe with so many of them around” her head hung low, and she genuinely looked regretful — not like the other times.

Harry exhaled loudly and walked up to the side of her bed. He sat by the edge and was incredibly close to her. He got a whiff of her scent and instantly felt his muscles relax. Y/N reached out, noticing the exhaustion and the bags under his eyes. She inched closer and cupped his face with her delicate hands.

“I shot Peter in the leg” he admitted as she squished his cheeks together like she always does before kissing him.

“Harry!”

“He’ll live” he rolled his eyes, “His job is to protect you when I am not around, and he failed miserably today” Y/N pecked his lips multiple times before allowing him to kiss her deeply. “Don’t ever go” he whispered as their foreheads were pressed against each other.

“I wouldn’t. I love you”

“Loving you is easy. Deserving you is something else” he whispered back.

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paladinbaby · 1 year

Text

the sheriff & the smuggler

the wee free men, terry pratchett / @creacherkeeper & paladinbaby / john darnielle about the song balance / the ocean at the end of the lane, neil gaiman / it will come back, hozier / wolf or-7, natalie diaz / housekeeping, marilynne robinson / allies or enemies, the crane wives / @hunterbiden / the illustrated man, ray bradbury

[Image Description: Ten images of text.

1: “He said it was better to belong where you don’t belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there.”

2: A screenshot of a Discord message and a reply. “lev: ough. more things for them to be unwell about. each other <3

faun: literally 😭finally fight each other only to be like huh this is miserable in fact?!?!?”

3: “sort of a love song, after a fashion”

4: “Oh, monsters are scared,” said Lettie. “That’s why they’re monsters.”

5: “Leave it to the land, this is what it knows / Honey, that’s how it sleeps / Don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / Jesus Christ, don’t be kind to it/ Honey, don’t feed it, it will come back”

6: “I confuse instinct for desire - isn’t bite also touch?” Bite and touch are both in italics. The whole line is highlighted in red.

7: “For need can blossom into all the compensations it requires. To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow.”

8: “Are we allies or enemies? / This will be the death of me / This will be the death of me / All is fair in love and war, but I can’t fight with you anymore”

9: “sometimes the tragedy is fun! sometimes the fact that there will be no happy ending is fun! sometimes it is really neat that one character is stuck in the past at the expense of the present and the other is going scorched earth towards the future and they’ll never be on the same page ever again! i like that.”

10: “Wouldn’t it be fine if we could prove things with our mind, and know for certain that things are always in their place. I’d like to know what a place is like when I’m not there. I’d like to be sure.” End ID.]

#litstack #web weaving #personal #onion #c: lost township #onion and Lizzie <33333 #there’s something so deeply wrong w both of them

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leehoonii-i · 1 year

Text

Minors DNI please | 18+

Kyojuro Rengoku is a very good teacher, teaching at Kimestu No Yaiba University, while his wife is a stay at home mom.

One day Kyojuro invites his wife, y/n, to his work. For all his lectures as for once they had hired a babysitter. When you arrive into your husband's work, all the students stop and stare. His wife, 5 minutes early, walks to his classroom.

Arriving to his classroom, Kyojuro smiles and walks to his wife and kisses her. "How are you, my love?" Y/n smiled at him, "I'm doing well, thank you darling."

Making her way towards one of the middle seats, she sits down and watches her husband greet the kids as they enter. Some of them walking past her, mumbling words like 'she's so beautiful' or 'damn she's so thick'. Kyojuro noticing these remarks because of his good hearing, makes a mental note to write everything down, their name and comment all after the lecture and test.

Hearing the comments progress, Kyojuro ends up writing them down on a peice of paper as he teaches, some being 'id bend her over this desk right now' or 'damn I'd grab her hair and make her take this cock' as vile as they made it out to be Kyojuro still made notes of these on his peice of paper. Looking at his half asleep wife, he smiles again, continuing his lecture and notes.

Almost done with his class, he had half a page, full of things the students had said. His wife fully asleep now, he had hearts in his eyes, with y/n not being able to sleep, due the kids, she would tend to fall asleep anywhere. When she decided to come to his work, and hire a babysitter, she finally could get some sleep.

The two sayings, that stuck out and he had liked the most was 'bro I'd take her home, but we'd get halfway there, before I'd pull over and fuck her' and 'I'd finger her under this desk right now, if she was next to me'.

When the school day was about to end, he caught one of his students talking to his wife, but what caught his attention was one student walking past him, mumbling, 'If that was my girl, I wouldn't let anyone flirt with her'.

About 30 minutes after everyone left. Kyojuro walked up to his wife and wrapped his hands around his wife. "Your very beautiful, my love" He said while tracing his fingers against her lower belly. Y/n letting out a 'mhm.

"Listen to me baby, and listen now." "Yea, is there something you need" not responding lowers his hand under her skirt and over her underwear. "Let me hear you whimper, Love." Kyojuro whispered into her ears, sending shivers down her spine to her core.

Circling his fingers around her clothed clit, making her whimper, she squeezes her legs together. "Kyo, please" Seeing her in the state she's in made him turn on even more. Kyojuro grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. During that time something hard pressed right above her butt, making her gasp, taking this as an invitation, Kyojuro decided to kiss her.

Making out at this point, he then slipped his finger under her underwear and was now messing with her clit. "Your wet and all for me." Kyojuro said with a smirk. Painfully slow, Kyojuro rubbed a orgasm onto her.

Moaning she rubbed her legs together and held onto Kyojuro's arms that held her up. Kyojuro walking her back to his desk, while removing his hand denying her an orgasm making her whine, as he slowly pulled down her skirt.

"Lets me see what I've been craving, darling" Kyojuro said smirking. Grabbing y/n's hips and setting her on the desk. Pulling of the rest of her skirt and seeing her glistening panties, had his pants feeling tighter.

Pushing his tongue against y/n's soaked panties, he hums in delight. Rubbing his tongue on her panties for a little longer, y/n whines. Slowly Kyojuro pulled her panties off.

Licking a stripe up her clit, y/n trembled. Kyojuro then slowly licked circles on her. Grabbing his hair, y/n pulled his face closer to her core. Shoving his tongue into her pussy, Kyojuro had made her grip on his hair ever so slightly stronger.

Giving up on eating her out, he stood up. "Kyo, I was about t-" Stoping her sentence was Kyojuro shoving his dick into her. He stopped when his length was fully in, to make sure y/n was okay and good. "Are you alright my love?"

Breathing heavy she buckled into him giving him the sign she was indeed alright. Moving at a slow pace he set the tone for love making, but was taken back when y/n's legs wrapped around him and pushed him deeper and a tiny bit faster.

"Please Kyo, I need you" This set him off as he then grabbed her legs and put her into a mating press. Looking down at the squelching noice and skin slapping, Kyojuro went more faster leading y/n to her first orgasm.

Y/n's legs shaking on the desk from the position and Kyojuro ramming into her, panting and moaning into Kyojuro's neck. "It's alright, darling I'm almost there, can you endure one more orgasm"

Her legs tensed as she was about to cum, Kyojuro's thrusts becoming sloppy. "Oh, Kyo, Kyo" "Cum with me darling" As he said that she cummed and right after, he released too.

"Lets get you cleaned up, my love" He looked in the drawer and found cleansing wipes for skin. "I like to be clean after classes" He said while cleaning y/n.

While they walked out of the school, with Kyojuro helping y/n. They got into the car and started to drive away after getting ready. Driving for awhile he put his hand on her thigh.

Slowly he made his way to her clothed cunt, pushing her panties aside he inserted two fingers. Shutting her eyes and moaning, she crossed her legs and bucked in to his fingers. "Spread your legs, my love" Y/n did as she was told. Kyojuro then pushed his thumb onto y/n's clit, rubbing slow, soft circles.

Feeling frustrated again, he pulled the car over, he stopped fingering her. Instead he got out of the car and went to the back seats and sat her on his lap and kissed along her jaw line, "Kyo- we just did it in the classroom." He shrugged and kissed down to her visible cleavage. Hiking up her skirt and pulling out his dick, he slid it against her wet folds. Slowly entering into her already sensitive womanhood, and starts thrusting. Moaning his name, she grabs his hair, making him grunt against her neck.

Feeling her around his cock, had him folded. Still grunting into her neck, he looks up and see's the most beautiful scene ever. His wife bouncing on his cock, shirt scrunched up above her breast, and her skirt halfway off, makes him bust in her almost immediately. "Sorry my love, I just couldn't handle such a beautiful sight. I'll make it up at home."

The very next day, when Kyojuro had come into the classroom for every kid that had made a comment he put on their test a written note, along with extra work. "Thank you for the suggestions about my wife, I really enjoyed them, she did too. Enjoy 2 extra packets worth of work. All due next Monday. Good luck."

Love you! <33

for @nope-i-dont-think-i-will

#smut #kyojuro smut #x reader #imagine #for a friend #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kyojuro rengoku #muzan smut #shinjuro smut #akaza smut #anime #douma smut

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mercnotfound · 8 months

Text

~ I Think I'm Okay ~

Music Producer!Ellie Williams x OC

I Think I’m Okay {Part 2}

Music Producer!Ellie Williams x OC

Word count; 1.994k

[Ellie is a successful music producer who is in a slump, carving her way through a hundred and one different highs to try and find her next hit, until she meets her.]

“So let me get this straight, some random girl almost knocked your door down at 3am because she was hiding from her ex?”

“Yes.” Ellie paused with her glass of water halfway to her mouth, eyes widening, “Hey wait- do you think she was casing my apartment? Did I fall for a fucking casing scam? Jesse, am I an idiot?”

“Nah, no way.” Jesse leaned back in his chair and frowned. “I mean, surely not, right?”

“Listening to you two talk is like trying to watch the first cavemen light a fire.”

Ellie turned and saw Dina grinning from where she stood behind the mic in the recording booth, her voice muffled but still audible while the door was propped open. She raised her middle finger at her, before slamming the glass of water onto the table and rubbing her face with both hands.

“What if I get robbed?” She murmured.

“It’s fine, you’ll be fine.” Jesse patted her shoulder but his voice didn’t sound totally convinced. “Let’s just get to work.”

Ellie nodded and leaned over to push the door to the booth shut, then slipped on her headphones and flicked through the notebook Jesse had handed to her earlier.

“So this is for Stargazer?” She asked.

Jesse hummed, leaning over to point at the page Ellie had landed on.

“Right here, this is where I want to add Dinas vocals. Client said he wants the instrumental to be really thick so I’m hoping this’ll help.”

Ellie nodded and looked back up at Dina, giving her a thumbs up and hitting a couple buttons on the deck. That morning, after fighting her way out of bed in the middle of a come-down and running on an interrupted 4 hours of sleep, she’d opened her phone to see an email from someone who had been waiting on an updated demo, one that Ellie had promised would be sent over that night. To sum it up, the guy had grown sick of her excuses, called her a burnt out one-hit-wonder and vowed to never work with her again amidst a cacophony of colourful language. It had felt like somewhat of a wake-up call, and now she was determined to do something useful today.

By the end of their session, she’d successfully coached Dina through all the recordings they needed and even strung up a chord progression she’d been delaying for weeks; it wasn’t perfect, but definitely a solid start, and Jesses satisfied grin as they walked out the studio almost felt like a hit by itself- almost.

“Wanna hit a bar? It is a Friday afterall and I feel like we deserve it.” Jesse swung his arm around Dinas shoulders and raised his eyebrows at Ellie, who pretended to mull it over for a second before nodding.

“Sure, why not” Absolutely yes-fucking-please.

They went to their usual place, The Tipsy Bison, where Ellie met Dina for the first time after her and Jesse had just had one of their breakups; Dina had kissed Ellie and Jesse had almost broken her nose - they were 19 at the time.

“God, remember when we turned twenty-one and started using our real IDs here?” Dina laughed, “I mean, Seths face-”

“Fucking priceless.” Ellie added.

“Poor guy actually thought he was insane when the whole bar got in on it and pretended we’d never been there before. Great times man.” Jesse chuckled and strode through the doors, walking straight up to the bar. Dina and Ellie followed, ordering their drinks.

Ellies mouth felt dry, she was craving something, but the alcohol would carry her over for now. She swallowed, her freckled throat bobbing as she raised her glass from the sticky bar and tried to drink it without looking like a madwoman. She glanced around, Dina and Jesses conversation fading into the blur of bar sounds as she eyed a throng of people gathered by the jukebox dancing.

“Y’wanna dance?” She asked Dina.

“Fuck yeah!”

Ellie took Dinas hand and began leading her to the group, releasing it once they got close enough and merging with the crowd. This was where Dina belonged, Ellie had seen it from the first moment she lay eyes on her five years ago, her eyes shut and dark hair swinging as her skin shone with sweat- she was the kind of girl who commanded attention, Ellie had liked that, which is why she’d let Dina kiss her.

“Hey, you’re Ellie Williams, right?” Ellie looked to her right to see a girl standing smiling at her expectantly.

“Yeah, that’s me.” She eyed the girl up and down, smirking a little. “And who’s asking?” She felt a little heat flicker in her gut as the girl went visibly red.

“I-I’m Lorna, I’ve heard your stuff, I’m… a big fan, actually.”

“Oh yeah? How come I’ve never seen you before? You from out of town?”

The girl nodded. “Yep, just visiting some friends at the minute. Your studio is around here, right?”

Ellie whistled lowly, the sound barely audible with the noise around. “You really are a fan, huh?”

The girl blushed harder, the heat intensified. “Yeah, s’a block or so down. You wanna… come see it?”

Ellie was pushing her luck, but hey, she was stressed at the minute, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d brought a girl back to the studio and fucked her on the deck.

“Yes, please.”

***

She waited outside the bar, leaning back against the wall and smoking a cig - the girl said she needed to tell her friends, Ellie told her to be quick. The night air was chilly and fought to get inside her leather jacket, hit the exposed skin under her ripped baggy jeans, to bring her teeth together in a clatter but Ellie sort of liked it, liked feeling human for a moment even as she pulled her jacket tighter around her.

She dropped the cig to the floor and stomped it out with her boot, pausing as she heard a strange sound coming from the alley behind her.

“The fuck?” She muttered, peering around the corner and squinting to see in the dark. She heard another noise, something like muttering, before a sensor-light suddenly flickered on and temporarily blinded her.

There was a girl slumped against the back wall of the bar, and another girl with her, seemingly trying to pull her away from the wall but didn’t seem to be having much luck.

“Hey, you okay there?” Ellie called out. The more aware looking girl of the two snapped her head towards Ellie and- fuck, that curly hair.

“Shit, I thought you were a guy.” That voice. “Will you help me, please? I need to get her home.”

Ellie swallowed, stepping closer and realising it was exactly who she thought it was, glowing under the flickering orange light.

“It’s you.” Ellie said.

The girl looked up again, frowning at Ellie for a second before seemingly catching on, her mouth falling open into an ‘O’.

“And it’s you. You look different when you’re not half asleep and half-baked.” She smiled, Ellie watched how it creased the sides of her mouth and raised her cheeks into peaches.

“You look different when you’re not breaking into my apartment at 3am.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t break in.” Then she turned back to the other girl, who Ellie could now see had her eyes shut. “Will you help? I called a cab, it should be here soon I just need to get her to the street.”

“Sure.” Ellie swung one of the girls arms over her shoulders and pulled her gently off the wall, grunting a little at the dead weight but supporting her steadily. She ducked under the other arm and took the rest of the weight, struggling a little more than Ellie.

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘girl who woke me up at 3am’” Ellie tried to add some strength to her voice behind the joke, but it came out meek and she felt her face go red.

“Been talking about me?” The other girl grinned. Ellie shrugged.

“I’m Ellie.”

“I’m Rain.” She finally responded after a moment of studying Ellies face, her gaze returning to the floor and allowing Ellie to breathe again.

“S’pretty, I like it.” She muttered.

They walked the half-conscious girl to the path just as her cab pulled up, and managed to manouvre her into it without too much trouble.

“You gonna be okay getting her home, Rain?” Ellie scratched her nose, fighting to keep her gaze on Rains face on the opposite side of the car.

Rain bit her lip, resting her chin on the roof of the car.

“I really don’t mind.” Ellie added.

“If you’re sure-”

“I’m sure.”

Rain nodded and disappeared into the car. Ellie glanced back at the bar, seeing the girl she’d been talking to emerge from the front doors and look around, trying to spot Ellie. She hesitated, forearm resting on the open car door as she watched the girl frown and pull out her phone.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah,” She replied, matching the other girls frown as she felt something in her stomach pulling her backwards into the car. “Just coming.”

***

“You’re actually the fucking best, thanks Ellie.”

Ellie grinned, looking down and kicking at the pavement.

“Just doing my civic duty.”

“Well…” Rain sighed, leaning back against the now shut front door to her friends house (where they’d just spent almost twenty minutes trying to get the girl upstairs and in her bed). “What you did the other night wasn’t just your 'civic duty'… I know it was a really weird situation, but you helped, and I’m really grateful, so, thank you.”

Ellie shrugged in response, finally looking up and looking at the other girl straight in the face.

“It’s okay, really, just don’t tell TMZ you caught me with coke on my nose and we’ll call it even.” She smirked, cocking her head to the side.

“TMZ? Are you famous or something?” Rain laughed

“I mean… sorta?” Ellie leaned on the gate opposite Rain, sliding her hands into the pockets. “I’m a music producer.”

Rains eyes widened. “No fucking way? That’s so cool Ellie.”

Ellie grinned, “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Rain nodded, then checked her phone and sighed. “I should go…” She walked up to Ellie, who stiffened a little at the proximity - she could smell her perfume and it was making her dizzy. “You know the little cafe on West?” Ellie nodded. “I work there, come see me.” Then, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ellie on the cheek, before pushing the gate open and walking away. Ellie stumbled, then caught the gate before it swang back on her and stood watching Rain leave, frowning at the feeling in her stomach.

That night, she went home, ignoring the itching on her skin as she walked past the residue from last night on the coffee table and collapsed into bed, eyes tired but fixed on the clock in her room. 3am came, no knock, she didn’t know why she was disappointed. She got back up and went to the fridge, stared into it for a second, shut it, went to sit on the couch and pushed her hand into her boxers, then pulled it back out with a frustrated sigh. Ellie contemplated getting on her knees and licking the white dust off the table with her tongue; she had no shame, she’d done it before, anything to get rid of that itch, but the dust couldn’t talk and to be honest- all she really wanted, for some unknown fucking reason, was Rains voice.

It was gonna be a long-ass night.

[taglist! @gold-dustwomxn @robinismywifee ]

#tlou x reader #ellie williams fanart #the last of us part two #tlou2 ellie #ellie williams hcs #the last of us #ellie williams

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sephirthoughts · 23 days

Text

ok i got that nasty one out of my system here’s the nice one

Vincent Got a Phone

[but to the tune of Janie's Got a Gun you're welcome]

WARNINGS: none yet but we’ll get there keep your pants on (for now)

INFO: CID/VINCENT, BBFs vincent & aerith it makes sense i swear, background sefikura, fluff, eventual smut, humor, no angst just idiot-related shenanigans

SYNOPSIS: Vincent had a crush, then he got a phone, which has started him down a road toward genuine human connection that he is in no way prepared for. Aerith, his self-appointed friend and wingman (who may not be nearly as sweet and innocent as one would think, based on the dresses and flowers), is determined to steer her favorite ship on the right course!

Chapter 1: The Friend-ship Sails!

BIGDICKDADDY: hello everyone. i bought a phone.

SolidStrife: sephiroth?

SolidStrife: typo oops

SolidStrife: i mean who the fuck is this

.*･｡ﾟ☆Ti-chan☆｡ﾟ･*. : yeah how did you get our group chat ID creep! >:C

BIGDICKDADDY: this is vincent valentine.

SolidStrife: ...

SolidStrife: quick question

BIGDICKDADDY: cid chose this name for me. i don’t know how to change it.

TheChief: hahaha it’s a real good one why would you change it

✿FlowerGal✿: i thought Dick was short for Richard? shouldn’t it be Big Vince Daddy?

.*･｡ﾟ☆Ti-chan☆｡ﾟ･*. : oh honey

✿FlowerGal✿: or Big Vic Daddy? that works too.

SolidStrife: but the daddy part is ok with you

YiffYuff: i think it’s a funny name lol

SolidStrife: you would

YiffYuff: wtf what is that supposed to mean

SolidStrife: it means i know what your username means

YiffYuff: ????

VValentine: nevermind. cait sith showed me how to do it.

TheChief: aw boo y’all are no fun

TheChief: damn robot cats these days

✿FlowerGal✿: I’m really glad you got a phone, Mr. Valentine! Now we can all talk to you and you won’t miss anything! :-D

[VValentine has left the chat]

.*･｡ﾟ☆Ti-chan☆｡ﾟ･*. : wow rude

SolidStrife: he lasted longer than i expected

YiffYuff: what does my username mean!!

YiffYuff: what the hell are you talking about!!!

YiffYuff: CLOUD!!!!

SolidStrife: why don’t you ask cait sith

Vincent had a phone, now. That was…good. A phone was a thing one used to communicate with other people. It was a step toward humanity. Toward the light. Out of the abyss.

Only, he found himself reflexively wanting to retreat back to the safety of his coffin. After all, was taking such a step even allowed, for him? Was this not just collecting another sin with which to freight his soul and trouble his sleep?

But…when sin felt so much like sunshine on your skin, when it was blue and brilliant gold, so vivid you could almost taste the colors—when sin was a wisp of that heartbreaking warmth, so desperately craved during those long, cold, solitary years in the dark…how was one meant to choose atonement?

He would never try to touch the sky, he reasoned. He would only slip out of the shadows and stand in the sunlight for a little while, to quietly absorb some of its warmth, before he sank back into the eternal darkness. Even such a creature as himself yearned for some small comfort, after all.

A soft voice broke in, drawing him from his ruminations. “Um. Mr. Valentine? Are you coming to dinner?”

It was the lighter haired girl. Aerith Gainsborough. And she looked like she was cautiously approaching a rabid dog.

Vincent suppressed a sigh and withdrew deeper into his cloak, in order to appear less threatening. He couldn’t tell from her expression whether or not it was working. But all he had to do was politely decline, and she would go away.

“No, thank—”

“Hey, Vinnie! Vin!” Cid called out, just then, from ten meters behind her, where the rest of them were gathering. “We’re goin’ to eat, you comin’?”

“Yes, thank you,” Vincent said to the girl, as he pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on, and strode away toward the group.

Aerith paused for a moment, with an unreadable look on her face, before she trotted after him.

“Did you not like your food, Cloud?” Tifa was asking, as the party exited the restaurant, a couple of hours later.

“Huh? Food?” Cloud said distractedly. “Oh. It was fine.”

“Do you even know what you ate?” Yuffie retorted. “You were staring at your phone the entire time.”

“I wasn’t staring at my—” Cloud pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen a few times. “I gotta go. I’ll be back…later.”

“Where are you going? Cloud!” Tifa shouted after him, as he hurried away down the street. Annoyed with the young man’s wayward behavior, she naturally turned to her friend, for support. “Can you believe how rude he’s being? What is going on with him?”

Aerith was looking the other direction, however, apparently engrossed in something else. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Totally. What a jerk.”

“You weren’t even listening!” Tifa said, stamping her foot. “Why is everyone acting like this tonight?”

“You mean, why’s no one paying attention to the princess?” Yuffie smirked.

Tifa scowled. “Shut it, brat. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Yuffie rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know frowning gives you wrinkles?”

“Oh, ho ho! Did you guys see that?!” Aerith exclaimed, startling them both.

“See what?” they replied, nearly in unison.

“Mr. Valentine just yawned, and exactly ten seconds later, Mr. Highwind said he was tired and wanted to head back!” She gave a delighted little giggle and then squealed, clutching her phone to her chest, like a teddy bear.

Yuffie and Tifa looked at each other, then back at her, with expressions one might adopt when addressing a mental patient.

“Mr. Valentine yawns all the time, Aeri-chan,” Tifa pointed out.

“Yeah, what’s so interesting about old men being tired?” Yuffie scoffed. “They both fell asleep in the theater, the other night, and you weren’t wetting your pants about that.”

Tifa made a face. “You want to rethink that phrasing, maybe?”

“Hehehe it’s nothing, nothing at all. You wouldn’t understand,” Aerith gloated, while rapidly typing something on her phone. She hit what must have been the ‘send’ button, with an air of triumph, then finally looked up. “Hey…where did Cloud go?”

Over the next several days, Vincent began to get a feeling that he was being watched. He had this feeling because he was definitely being watched. By the Gainsborough girl, of all people. She seemed to have taken an unusual interest in his activities, and had been surreptitiously observing him, at random intervals throughout each day.

He was aware of it pretty much immediately, due to his high level of training and artificially heightened senses, and also the fact that she was really bad at spying. Like, he literally saw her ducking behind a trash can, once. Whoever among their enemies had got to her, they obviously hadn’t given her much in the way of instruction, before they sent her to work. Maybe it was a blackmail job.

Either way, if she was under hostile influence, she was now a threat to the group, and it was his duty to get to the bottom of it. It’d be better not to alert the others, yet, in case anyone else was compromised, so he’d be going this one alone. Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed help handling one little teenaged girl.

That night, after supper, he took a walk around the general area of the group’s rooms, making sure he was clearly seen, then faded into the shadows, to lie in wait for the spy. Three minutes and seventeen seconds later, he heard stealthy footsteps coming down the walk.

Tch. Amateur. She didn’t disguise her gait, control her breathing, or even try to mask her scent. When she passed the dark space between the buildings, she was playing with her phone, pretending to be looking at it, but glancing stealthily about, obviously looking for her target.

In less time than it takes for a human heart to beat once, a whirl of crimson whipped out of the narrow alley, silently engulfed the young woman, and vanished. Behind the building, in the deep shadows, Aerith suddenly found herself pinned against a brick wall, with the big triple-barrel of Cerberus pressed to her throat.

“Scream and it will be the last sound you make in this life,” Vincent said, in a low, menacing snarl (which was just his usual voice but slightly quieter). “Who are you working for?”

“Mr. Valentine?” Aerith replied, in a normal, conversational tone, looking at his face, rather than the gun, for which he had to inwardly applaud her cool-headedness under duress. “What are you doing lurking around in the alley?”

The hammer clicked back. “A name, Ms. Gainsborough. Or I paint this wall with your—”

“Oh, please, you’re not going to kill me,” she laughed (Actually laughed! At him!!). “If you were, you’d have cut my throat or strangled me right away, instead of trying to scare me with your very loud gun, with all our friends right within hearing distance.”

He wrapped his other hand around her neck and holstered the weapon. “You’re right. There are plenty of ways to kill you quietly. Answer the question. Who are you working for? How did they get to you? Are they blackmailing you? Holding someone hostage? If so, why did you not come to us for help, rather than betray us?”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” She eyed him doubtfully. “Are you…feeling ok, Mr. Valentine?”

“I am never feeling ok. That is beside the point. You have been following me and spying on me, for five days. You appear to be recording my movements and reporting them to someone. I also saw you take several photographs of me and Cid Highwind, when you believed yourself to be unobserved.”

Her eyes went wide. “Eh? You saw tha—I mean, I have no idea what you mean! You have no right to interrogate me! I want a lawyer!”

“A lawyer? I am not with the police, Ms. Gainsborough. In case you forgot…I’m a monster.” As he said this, he leaned closer, baring his sharp canine teeth, and letting his irises flash brilliant crimson-gold, in the darkness of the alleyway.

“Ooh, that was so cool!” Aerith breathed. “Wow, you’re really sexy, Mr. Valentine.”

Vincent choked and actually took a step back, letting go of her neck, from sheer astonishment. “What are you—that’s not—how can a nice young lady like yourself use such a word, so casually!”

“What, sexy? You really have been living in a coffin, haven’t you. Times have changed. Nice young ladies like me can say and think and do whatever we want. That includes thinking you’re sexy and telling you so. Not that I’m into you! Even if I swung that way, you’re like a million years too old for me, yuck.”

When she said that last bit, she laughed and stuck her tongue out, with a little shudder of disgust, to which Vincent took great umbrage. He was old, sure, but he didn’t look old. He looked pretty good, he thought. Anyway, he definitely wasn’t worthy of a shudder.

Also, how did this tiny girl flip the situation around on him, so fast! Saying all these bizarre things and confusing him! On top of that, she wasn’t even a little bit scared of him! That hurt his pride even more than the shudder, and he became morose.

“As I was saying, you’ve got the situation all wrong,” Aerith informed him, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “I mean, yeah…maybe I was spying on you a little. But that was for my own reasons. No one got to me and I’m not betraying anyone. I’m actually your ally, here. Maybe the only one you have.”

Vincent was hiding in his collar, with his arms crossed sullenly, glowering down at her from the shadow of his black bangs. “What nonsense are you talking? What do you mean, ally?”

“Let’s just say, I represent a certain community, of very devoted, extremely supportive enthusiasts, who take a special interest in…gentlemen such as yourself.”

This was definitely some kind of trick, to trip him up, but he couldn’t see the hook yet. Better play along, for now. “Such as myself, in what way?”

“Gentlemen who, you know,” she winked suggestively, which nearly sent him stumbling back another step, “prefer the company of other gentlemen.”

“I prefer no one’s company,” he growled. “Try again.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Not even…Mr. Highwind’s?”

What the hellfire? What did she know?? Would he have to kill her, after all?!

“I can tell by the look on your…forehead, that you know what I’m talking about,” the infuriating and deeply bewildering young woman continued. “It’s also clear from my observations, that no one else knows. And that, if it’s left up to you, he never will. That is where your dearly devoted fujoshi sisters come in.”

This was obviously an attempt to baffle him with more gibberish. Vincent’s hand was already on Cerberus’ stock again. “You’re stalling. So, you have backup coming. You think they can kill me, before I kill you?”

“Seriously, tone down the drama, Mr. Valentine. I’m trying to tell you I want to help you. Look, I’ll show you.” She pulled her phone out and held it up so he could look at the screen. “This is our server. These are all sisters—that’s what we call our members. Each channel is devoted to a different ship, but we encourage multi-shipping and no ship hate is allowed, whatsoever.”

“Channel? Ship? You like…nautical engineering?” Vincent attempted, utterly at a loss.

“Ship is short for relationship. The Fujo-Friends server is dedicated to fanship of the MLM variety.”

He blinked stupidly at the screen, as she scrolled through what she called a channel. It looked like a group chat, sort of like the one their party used on the phone, but it was made up of far more participants.

They all had little cartoon avatars, and inexplicable names, like ‘Mrs. Genesis’ and ‘disco slut kadaj’ and ‘sefikurafan’ and ‘rudeXlovesXreno’, and even a ‘Sephiroth’s Daddy’ which he did not like, at all. Messages were popping up, constantly, and they seemed to be talking about…

Vincent’s head spun, and he had to lean on the wall, to catch his breath. He had literally never seen so many euphemisms for that crucial part of the male anatomy, in his life. He didn't even know most of them, before.

How…how could all of those people talk so openly about these things? How could they all care enough about total strangers, to say so many weird and perverse (and also a lot of very sweet and supportive) things, about them? How could they know so much more about that kind of thing than he did?!

He passed a hand over his brow. “You, and all these other women…you talk about men, having…sexual relationships, with other men? Why?”

“Oh, it’s not just women,” Aerith chirped. “We welcome sisters of all genders. Why do we do it? For a ton of reasons. Mostly because it’s fun, but honestly, a lot of us are just sick of the heteronormative status-quo getting pushed on us in every form of media, and want to imagine more people in happy, queer relationships. I mean, there are toxic ships, too, but those are strictly for the sake of hotness. We don’t condone any abusive or unhealthy relationships, IRL.”

Vincent shook his head helplessly. “I—I don’t know what any of those words mean.”

“It’s ok, that’s why I offered to help you. You don’t seem to know what you’re doing in that area. Like, at all.”

“What I’m doing in which area?”

“Well…you like Mr. Highwind, right?”

“If you already know, why do you keep asking,” Vincent returned crossly.

“Good! The first step is talking about your crush to a trusted friend,” Aerith encouraged.

“Who said you were a trusted—”

“As for the other steps, a socially challenged but otherwise high-spec man, like you, is just the kind of person who could benefit from the sisters’ help! Don’t worry, I won’t put you on the server, or anything. Unless you want me to.” Vincent’s glare intensified. “Ok, I’ll take that as a no. What I can do for you, is act as your relationship consultant. With the input of the sisters, of course. The Fujo-Friends will help you make a plan to get your man!”

Vincent nodded. “I’m leaving. Goodnight.”

“No, no, wait!” Aerith said, stepping hastily in front of him. “Just hear me out, ok? I know this all probably seems ridiculous to you, but…I can’t stand seeing you so sad, Mr. Valentine. You’re a good person, and you’ve survived through so much. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. And I deserve to see you and Mr. Highwind together.”

“A good person.” His lip curled in a sneer, which was totally lost on Aerith, as it did so behind his collar. “What could possibly have lead you to believe that about me? Do good people live in coffins in the basements of disused bioengineering facilities?”

“They do if they’re trying to protect other people from something. I know your story. What happened to you. And I know all you’ve done is help people, since you went underground. You’re even helping us, now. So…let me help you, a little. Consider it a thank you, for being on the team.”

Vincent withdrew gloomily into his cloak again (like a turtle retracting into its shell, which was far more adorable than he realized or he’d never do it again), and said nothing. But he didn’t say no. The moment he failed to say no, he handed Aerith the reins.

“Great! So excited to get started!” She clapped her hands delightedly and bounced up and down, like a child. “I'll message you tomorrow morning, with the details!”

Vincent sighed heavily. “Alright.”

He was still in a daze, musing on how he’d even gotten into this mess, when he found himself back in his room. It was…something of a relief, to be honest. He had no idea how to ask for help and wouldn’t have accepted it, if it was offered.

But if it was urgently pressed upon him, what choice did he have? He couldn’t hurt Ms. Gainsborough’s feelings, after she’d been so kind as to reach out to him. Aside from Cid, she was the first one in the group to speak directly to him, excluding strictly necessary communication.

Also, he had a sneaking suspicion that this small girl could be scarier than Sephiroth, if she took a mind to, and he had no desire to find out if he was correct.

link to it on my ao3 just in case you want to leave me a nice comment. or a mean one fuck it bring it on

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autisticbokutoenthusiast · 2 months

Text

fandom get to know me better

was tagged by @nozunhinged AND @jeffsatyr so i had too

3 ships you like:

ok 3 that im into lately

villaineve- they make me turn into the joker <3

aobpuen - like i feel lik if you get it you get it like... i dont have words for them if i think about them too hard i need to bite something

sakuatsu - ride or dies the great fan artists and fic writers of the world have done such wonderful work

the three that im obsessed with currently (like fundamentally changed me

sandray - if you follow me on here you know. literally the last thing i think about before going to sleep and the first thing i think about when i wake up. they were manufactured in a lab to make me periodically lose my mind actually like, id never watched a thai series or heard of them and the only reason i chose to watch only friends was a ray edit someone made right after episode ONE that felt like it was bat signalling me and here i am 7?? months later a fully changed person..... like they will forever be a part of me now i think ill never be the same

vegaspete - similar to sandray in that i watched kinnporsche because of the vegaspete gifsets on the dash and was surprised to find out the series was not about them having bdsm sex in front of the corpse of a hedgehog like i was led to believe, not that i didnt end enjoying kp anyway. they alone would have been enough to make me obsessed but the things people create about them have changed me, thoroughly, like i am unrecognisable to myself after certain fics and fanart....

bokuaka - they are essential to my lore actually, like i dont post about them or engage with them as much as i used to because they are like my eyelashes like they are just a part of me now. bokuaka fanfic was what got me through high school tbh.

First ship ever: idk because ive wrote fic about characters since i was like 8..... actually im gonna be cringe and say chad and ryan from high school musical cause they were real to me when i was in elementary school <3

Last song you heard: good for what by little simz cause it will always get my pumped no matter what

Favorite childhood book: i read like a book a day when i was a kid but i think my favorite was the box car children even tho it traumatized me...

Currently reading: im always in a state of rereading my poetry collection and its recently been claude mckay but i need good novel recs PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME

Currently watching: at the peak of covid fever i started pit babe and im around halfway? thru now, also 23.5 the series as it comes out, and abbott elementary, and tsukutabe, also want to rewatch iwtv 2022... then theres all the shows my mutuals i posting about that i want to watch (im looking at you dead friends forever and moonlight chicken)

Currently consuming: hamantaschen that are supposed to be for tm but there raspberry jam flavored so im celebrating early 🫡

Currently craving: for food: i havent had cheesecake in like 5 years but i think about her everyday. in life: to try to get into the drag scene

ill tag @le-trash-prince @lilleeboi @jenyifer @kitas-cleaning-supplies @luminouschaotic @bokuto-my-beloved

and whoever wants to!!!

#tag game #abe rambles

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

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Older h is a very “say please” kinda guy!!! he just loves hearing her beg all pouty sitting close to him hands on his arm!!! “let’s goooo h come on it’s still early” he’d bring her closer :( “I’m too old for this” her chin sitting on his chest looking up at him all 🥺 but he’s still not budging “we got ready for bed baby let’s just lay down and cuddle” hands wrapping around her waist she’s all :( “I’m really craving ice cream h” kissing his chinnnnnn “say please and I’ll think about it” she hugs him giggling “I’ll get my shoes” moving away from him but he holds her wrist “I didn’t hear a please so I’m not saying yes…. yet” she looks at him straddling him kissing his cheeks being all loving and 🥺🥰 “Harry may you please please please take me to get some gelato? I’m well aware that I shouldn’t be having sweets at this time, but you are very kind and you’ll take me anyway, right?” He’s smiling “go get your shoes” 🤍🤍🤍🤍- 🧸

STOP HE TOTALLY IS:((((((((((( love love love this idea like they’re already in pajamas and comfy for bed but shes been wanting ice cream since after they finished dinner and h is so cute "im too old for his love lets just sleep" even tho hes def being broken down every time she looks up at him all mushy:( but youre sooooooo right shes being all cute and begging him climbing onto his lap and h:(((((( you said we would go remember??? and h is like I don't remember saying that pretty girl im pretty sure all I said was that id think about it and I thought about it and we should stay home and she gets all pouty and just....but h:( and she gives him one kiss and he knows hes done he knows hes going to take her it doesn't matter that its 8 and the place closes in an hour its happening "say please and ill reconsider" and shes all bubbly excited bc she knows what that means!!! so she gives him another kiss and !!! Ill get my shoes and put some pants on!! (bc shes only in his shirt ofc) and h holds her hips and hmmmm I dont know if I missed it but I didn't hear a please from u did I? and shes all giggly smiley and cuddling close like pleaseeeeee harry? I know im not supposed to beg when u say no but youre so nice and take care of me so well so you're going to take me anyway right???? and that earns her a smile and a kiss before "alright go get ready" and he sends her off w a pat on her bottom:(

#anon #ask #🧸anon #prosecco inspo #concept

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mega-aulover · 1 year

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Do you think hijacked Peeta fell out of love with Katniss? Or did he hate her/was afraid of her but still loved her? Is post hijacked Peeta the same Peeta or a new person altogether?

Thank you, ❤ @everlarkshipper

you do realize I have a thing about Hijacked Peeta

So this question is really interesting.

The Capitol Hijacked Peeta to fear the one one thing he loved.

Did he fall out of love no.

Did he learn to fear Katniss yes.

They conditioned him like an animal. And you can condition a human being-just look at all of the commercials. We have been conditioned to crave certain foods that are so bad, but so good. We know that drinking and driving is bad, but we still see people partying around vehicles in commercials. It's why you hear a certain jingle and you're craving tacos.

So if you look at it that way - you may crave a caffine drink - & you may act - (like a cave woman... *coughs 👀 looks in the mirror-until you get your first cup) but that doesn't change who you are.

Peeta was conditioned in the most - a horrid chemically induced torture. No doubt, he was beat, starved, sleep deprived, and water tortured. However, that didn't change who Peeta was at his core. He was a strong survivor- and was able to reject the programming - due to D13's intervention but - and I mean a huge BUT...also because on his own he was able to focus on his private memories and ID the ones that were fake.

Did he love Katniss yes.

Disecting the fake from the real memories was an act of love.

There were memories that Snow never touched. Hundreds of little moments, like Katniss flicking her braid over shoulder. Katniss interacting with her sister. Or even hidden moments between them when she had a busted ankle. Those are the things that Peeta fought for.

Do I think he was the same?

No.

Tell me after a traumatic exepience are we ever the same? Just look at what happened the past few years. The entire planet was affected by what happened. There are still people out there who flinch when someone sneezes or cough. It was only natural that he was diffrent. He still had episodes.

However, he was still Peeta- the same boy who fought to come back to District Twelve only to plant Primroses in memory of Katniss sister. If you notice, no one in the Capitol, no one in District 12 (ie Haymitch or Greasy Sae), no one from District 13 paid homage to Primrose. Only Peeta.

It's the first thing he did and it's such a peeta thing to do.

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waohilikethat · 1 year

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ok ive finally caught up w the recent episodes of crash course in romance and I have some THOUGHTS about this show.

It's a bit long so I'm adding the read more option!

first off. I'm so scared that we only have two episodes there's so much to unpack :

- Mr. Ji and his whole reveal , how it impacts choi chiyeol

nam hai-yi waking up, her mom coming back and how that impacts nam haeng seon

, the friend group, all the student drama and conflicts from the hallucinations to the cheating,

the side romances and everything too.

there's so much wtf !!!

i disagree with people who say that the murders were unnecessary and the show should've stuck to the romance.

the reason mr ji is murdering is linked to the fact that the intense concept of rigorous studies, for a 'good future', is set up for failure.

Otherwise this way you could say they shouldn't have added the hallucinations su-ah is having and the breakdown kids face. :/

It fucks people up, (like idolising someone so much you could murder for them lol)

I don't wanna be rude I get wanting to just see the romance and lighthearted scenes, I did too in the start when they introduced this plot.

I just think that the murder plot is nicely integrated into the story and is elemental for putting the point across!

It's very nice to see the type of romance that chiyeol and haengseon have.

Their love doesn't appear very physically, but emotionally. We see them constantly reassuring and accepting each other. They notice when the other is feeling troubled and they trust each other to share their concerns. When one sets up boundaries the other respects it

(somewhat, I just remembered when haengseon teased chiyeol for his whole rant of her being to friendly lol)

It's very in character for both imo. Haengseon, her entire life, has focused on living for her brother and neice. She's never had anyone who notices and shares her burdens.

Chiyeols never had emotional support in his life (not career lol) who would be there for him. His own words 'you're my second savior, following your mother'

ofcourse I do think that with the lives they've lead physical comfort is a HUGE thing both of them would crave for- we saw that with their sleeping scenes lol

The triangular love

This is just me guessing but I think with only two episodes left , and so many side plots open, there won't be any conclusion between who hae-yi gets in a relationship with.

Just plot wise, it might be geon-hu because he's not facing any major trauma like seonjae is, and there's no conflict between him and haeyi rn

Although I'm sure seon jae and hae yi will be fine after a conversation.

Personally I'd prefer this because I hate when one perosn is rejected, especially because I love both of them sm.

Also side note, but Dan ji was kept out of the loop again, and im sure she must've caught on. It'd be interesting if they talked about that but I doubt it

another side note, question really. when the students first found out about the car accident, did su-ah think it was her fault? Like did she think that she actually did it instead of hallucinating it? I'm not sure if I interpretated it wrong lol

This was way longer than I'd thought id write and I didn't even talk about a lot of things because I forgot lol. tysm for reading :)

#crash course in romance #i talked!#a lot #sorry if i messed up the names im not really sure if i used them correctly #i wanted to talk about the murders and a bit more about the unrelrying topic #and OH about the MOTHERS why are they LIKE THAT omg b #but i have to sleep so #kdrama #crash course in romance spoilers #analysis text #idk #long post #long reads

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zenthymiya · 2 years

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hi and congrats on 100 followers!! could i do a request for the ship event?

character - zhongli

name - lilly

pronouns - she/her

toxic traits - clingy at times LMAO and also can shut

down pretty easily, stubborn as well

fluffy traits - i laugh a lot LOL and i can be confident

personality - ALRIGHT so it's kinda hard to figure out how to describe my personality like i know what it is but idk how to explain????? i’m introverted with everyone i don't know and i'm not close with but i am pretty extroverted with the people i am close to. tbh animals>>> humans. i like the color purple, uhh i enjoy reading, writing, and drawing :> when i want to reach a certain goal i will always reach it no matter what, i'm a determined person. i care about those close to me deeply! i'm also passionate about things i enjoy. i have a creative and imaginative mind and i also hyperfixate on things but cannot focus. for. the. life. of. me. ) i'm also pretty patient for the most part! i ride horses, i do show jumping, the typa stuff they do in the olympics! obviously not as advanced tho LMAO BUT i have my own horse named red, he's a paint horse and he's really sweet. i'm 5'3 and i'm into working out! i try to get along with everyone no matter how much i like or dislike them. id also say i'm a pretty sarcastic person. usually it's pretty hard for me to fall asleep but once i am asleep i'm either deep in sleep or the sound of an eye blinking will wake me up LMAO

aesthetics - light academia + clean aesthetic

ideal date - something creative, dinner would be fine but i would prefer dinner with extra creative things and also just having fun in general and getting to know each other, even if you think you already know everything ab your s/o :)

relationship - non toxic

love - sweet with a little bit of angst + mild ;)

LillyLi

Going on dates with him is mainly you guys conversing together, although both of you are comfortable to sit in peaceful silence together, talking with each other is the highlight of all the dates.

Simple dates that you and him enjoy with a wide selection of foods while talking about anything. Getting dinner with him enjoying some traditional Liyue food while he tells you stories about his days about being Morax or any topic that comes to mind. Watching him wave his chopsticks still holding food around calmly as he recounts an interesting event that he had seen today.

You guys get desserts right afterwords if one of you guys crave it. You like to point out that his dessert was going to go bad if he didn’t eat it because he keeps on rambling. You love it though. I just think that another ideal date would just be you being out and about while Zhongli watches with literal stars in his eyes.

While he may not know a lot about the sport, he’ll recall some similar things he saw earlier in his life.

Sometimes you guys would do something together like ancient Liyue arts that he is very glad to teach you. He’s so down to simply do anything with you, wether it be practicing some sort of skill with you or simply shopping. In all honesty he just loves being by you and teaching you. Even if you can’t focus on what he’s showing you, he just chuckles at your dazedness and asks if you would like to do something else. He won’t get mad at all of you ask him to show you the steps again, seeing the twitch of your lips when watching him is enough to shine in his memory.

He loves the same things you do! You guys coordinate so well together. He’s more than happy to supervise your hobbies and offer advice while he does the same alongside you. Zhongli appreciates and loves your passion and creativity. He thinks it’s just gorgeous how you could create something so unique and have such a determined dead set mind. He’s always been one to appreciate your passions. He will sing so many praises, going on and on how extraordinary your craft is. Even if it’s simple he’ll always call you skilled and amazing at whatever you had made this time.

He will share his own personal stories that he’s illustrated himself in the form of writing, drawing, and even sculpting sometimes. He’s more than glad to provide you with the materials and guide your hands in his.

Nicknames nicknames nicknames galore.

You physically cannot feel insecure around this man because he will absolutely hold you down and kiss every part of you while listing off every achievement you’ve ever done while also saying that your body is absolutely gorgeous. He drones on and on about how wonderful you are for several hours

While he is the one who usually takes the reigns, he loves it when you talk about something that he doesn’t preciously know. It makes him feel all giddy inside and he shows by complimenting your knowledge on the topic

Please do go on and on about the new thing you had learned. While he does like to chime in here and there he is more than content to listen to you

He just loves cuddling you. Holding you close to his body while you try to sleep.

He’s a bit confused on while you switch up on touchiness so often. One second you wanna wrap your hands around him and the other you make him go the end of the bed. This man really does try to reason with you. Trying to get you to come back into his warm arms. He’s even pouting a little and his tail wraps around your arm to try and tug you back into his embrace. He tells you that sleep didn’t feel right the next day.

Zhongli is so enamored with your athleticism too. He is constantly watching you practice or applauding you when you preform something right. He enjoys watching you and often gives you various tips to similar things.

You often wonder how he never gets bored of watching you workout. He won’t admit it but he keeps himself entertained by letting his mind wander to other thoughts. While he keeps his composure most of the time, there was one time that he really couldn’t help himself with how delectable you looked. Heaving breaths leaving your chest, a smile on your face, and sweat gleaming down your body as you waved at him. He’s insatiable sometimes.

Under that sweet knowing smile he flashes you with he wants to see you sweat and tremble under him.

He gets so entertained when he imagines you riding him instead, letting you use his chest as reigns while he looks up and down your gorgeous body.

He loves the indigent protests you make when you say you can do this by yourself. Gently laughing while reassuring you that he believes in you and that he’s always there if you happen to need assistance.

Zhongli definitely praises you no matter how well you’ve practiced

Zhongli knows how stupidly stubborn you can be. Well he knows he can be too

He watched you struggle to do this one trick that you just couldn’t seem to get down. And you refused to leave only leaving when your body couldn’t physically take it anymore.

He offers advice and reassures you when he carries you because you were so tired that day.

Zhongli absolutely adores when you rely on him, use his shoulder as a pillow, relax in his hold when he carries you, even when you ask him to grab something for you. He loves to be your support pillar because he knows just as well you’ll be right there for him too.

Listening to Zhongli’s words will never get old to you. His soothing, calm, riveting voice that echos through the the room, bouncing off the walls as you lay on his chest. Listening to his rhythmic heartbeat and feeling the slow rise of his chest as you speak. This goes the same for him, as long as you can speak he’ll never not want to hear your voice. He says it sounds soothing to him. The waves of your voice never ceases to make him relax knowing that you are right beside him, living amongst Liyue with him.

Your first couple of dates were very awkward. As you didn’t know how to speak to Zhongli nor did you want to as he, in your eyes was still a stranger to some extent, yet you still didn’t want to turn down his date offer. Well how could you say no? Zhongli is handsome and knowledgeable, sure he can be forgetful but you liked him well enough despite his mysterious knowledge. Zhongli on the other hand rambled a lot, not knowing how to properly converse with you; he simply continued to talk about the little things he saw throughout the day.

It started out as little quips of input as response to him. Even so, Zhongli never budged, instead patiently waiting for you to open up to him more. And it worked. Just talking to him know is enough to set you on a ramble rivaling his.

As much as he is an amazing lover, things can get out of hand all because he loves your thighs more than anything.

They’re always bruised and littered with markings after some more steamy nights. He thinks his bite marks are pretty, they glow slightly orange yellow and look delightful on your thighs. You think it’s some master plan of his to get you to stay with him all throughout the day because god it is so hard to get up with bruised thighs.

You guys are both so fucking stubborn. You aren’t afraid to speak your mind but will never actually discuss with him because you don’t want to be proven wrong. Zhongli wants to cherish his time with you, that’s why he sweeps all of the problems under a rug. It is heavily implied though that he thinks that he is right.

When arguments happen you tend to close yourself off yet yearn for him. While Zhongli pretends it never happens, trying to normally go through the day with a very closed off you.

This goes on and on until you forget the problem because you just miss him too much. You really shouldn’t by the way, eventually he same topic will come up and the cycle will repeat. Just talk with him, don’t be afraid to let your guard down.

It hurts knowing that you’ll be gone one day, but the only thing he could do is simply enjoy every waking moment with you. He makes a personal contract with himself as to never forget you. Every part of you shall be remembered; from your smile to your laugh, even to your tears. He will never let himself remove your memory.

He will be always be by your side. Even if you shut down he’s right there, quietly questioning if you want anything.

Your aesthetics match so well together. He loves the scholar side of you, and he admires you for keeping your place organized.

You guys are so patient with each other actually. It’s kind of difficult to get into fights because both of you are very understanding for the most part

Zhongli will ensure maximum sleep. Always has the right amount of remedies for your perfect sleep. Sure he can get a bit concerned if he shakes you and you still don’t rouse, but it’s much better than you getting bad sleep. The moment you feel restless he’s already getting up to make soothing tea as well as offering a relaxing song fr him to hum as your lay against his chest. He has the best humming voice to sleep to. You will actually have the best sleep of your life.

He enjoys your laugh so much. Actually there’s a mutual feeling of enjoying each other’s voices. You like his deep, soothing, silky voice while he enjoys the melodies of how your voice shines through in his memories.

If he notices other people staring at your body he will absolutely give you his coat. He can’t help it, hall he wants is to keep you to himself and not let you be eye candy for anyone else.

“Dear.” Looking up from your drawing to see your partner standing next to you with a contemplative stare at your body.

He quickly averts his gaze away from your body avoiding eye contact with you, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been really.. sore lately,” looking back at your curious gaze he runs a hand down your back softly, “I was hoping to make you feel better if I massage you.”

Your eyes lit up, “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Of course my flower, you er- have complained that it was of my own doing to make you this prone.”

As much as you love him, you just can’t let go of the fact that due to him you had to take almost two weeks off of any athleticism. A small smile settled on your face. “Weelll if you’re as good as massages as you are at rambling on and on I’ll be back to my regular activities in no time.” Your voice cheerful with a light tease.

Zhongli looks very slightly guilty, diverting his eyes as he coughs into his hand, face pink with embarrassment. “I- I am sorry for my actions, but please understand you are just.. very tempting my dear lily.” His eyes momentarily crossed to your exposed thighs full of light purple bruises.

He did not look the least amount of embarrassed or ashamed. He couldn’t help but the small twitch of his corner lip as he remembered just how pretty you were under him, looking so ethereal in his mind.

He knows you’d look even more heavenly with oil running down your skin, back exposed to him as he rubs all the knots away from your skin. He quickly averts his thoughts as fast they come. He couldn’t afford to get ahead of himself. Clearing his throat, his smooth rumbling voice reverberating in your body, “So? About that massage my love?”

#this was due several months ago #not my best writing but I will be revising it #I swear #thank you for being patient with me <3

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