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queers-gambit · 8 months

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

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Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

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Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mafia au #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt/comfort

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youarewhatyoulove-blog · 1 month

Text

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

2K notes · View notes

obsessedwithtoomanythings · 10 months

Text

Anchor Up to Me, Love

Pairing: Alpha!Leon Kennedy x Omega!Reader

Warning: College AU, Knotting, Claiming Bites, Breeding Kink, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But Leon saves the day, cause we love him, Possessive Leon S. Kennedy, Protective Leon S. Kennedy, Violence, just a lil, Leon S. Kennedy Being a Little Shit, Leon S. Kennedy is a tease. Leon S. Kennedy is a Sweetheart, I slept for 2 hours last night cause of this, bon appétit, bone apple teeth, Leon Kennedy loves eating pussy change my mind, Loss of Virginity, Unprotected Sex, POV First Person

Words: 3.3K

A/N: I wrote this in one afternoon, it was not beta'd at all. I pulled this STRAIGHT out of my ass. THIS IS NSFW. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, PLEASE GO AWAY. Title from Anchor by Novo Amor.

The campus was buzzing with hyper energy, the students littering the quad as the weather finally warmed up enough for them to comfortably rest on the green grass. My sneakers slap against the concrete as I take a deep breath in, the fresh air mingling with the student’s scents and I can’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness at the sight of the couples sprawled across the area.

I have spent half my life terrified of everyone - especially alphas - since my father’s warning when I presented. “You need to be careful, pup. Alpha’s only want one thing. You don’t want to end up like your mother - God rest her soul.” The fear it caused has definitely contributed to my self induced isolation. The scent blockers stir in my stomach, and I place a hand over my gut softly as I continue to head toward the library. I couldn’t afford the textbook, and thankfully the library had a cheap copy, but it can only be used in the library. I huff in annoyance as I mount the stairs. I step into the air conditioned building, skin prickling beneath my tee shirt. Should have worn a sweater.

The library is huge, 3 floors of walls lined with books, and the loner in me cries out in joy at seeing how deserted the stacks are. Having memorized the way already, I walk toward where they keep the textbooks and I run my fingers across the bindings until I come across where my textbook should be. I glance around to see if it was maybe misplaced before I head to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for the Understanding Earth textbook for Professor Fieldman’s class?” I ask, and the woman behind the counter looks up with a small smile.

“Oh, that’s a popular one today. There’s a young man in blue who asked for it maybe 10 minutes ago. He should be in one of the study rooms, I think Room C.” The one with the windows. I nod, glancing down at my phone for the time. That paper is due in 12 hours. I’ll have to suck it up and ask if he’s willing to share. I head up the stairs, the hushed whispers of students giggling on the second floor catches my attention as I rub my fingers over my arms to warm them. The straps of my backpack are becoming more and more noticeable the longer the bag rests on my shoulders, and the girls’ voices become audible. “Wasn’t he adorable? He’s in my criminology class. His scent is intoxicating.” I scoff at their words. I walk toward the closed oak door before lightly rapping my knuckles on the varnished surface, and I crack it open as I hear a voice speak. Please be a beta. Please be a beta. Please be a beta.

“Yeah?” The door opens a bit more and that’s when I see him, strong hands hovering over the keys of his laptop, bright blue eyes trained on me as I stand in the doorway, my cheeks probably red from embarrassment.

“Hi,” I say before introducing myself with my name. “I know this is probably weird, but Professor Fieldman assigned a paper due tonight and I need some sources. Would you mind if I shared the textbook with you?” I ask, definitely speaking too fast as the anxiety crawls up my throat, tasting an awful lot like bile. He chuckles and that’s when his scent hits my nose. Those girls weren’t lying. He smells like pine and citrus, which you wouldn’t normally assume would mix, but something about the way it mingles as it enters my nose, my whole body flushes,, and I wonder if it’s because of him being an alpha or just him in general.

“I’m Leon. Leon Kennedy. And no, I don’t mind at all,” he says kindly, scooting his chair over a bit and pushing the textbook closer to the chair next to him. I should not sit next to him. His scent is already almost overwhelming and I’ve been in here for all of 1 minute. I find myself walking forward as I hear the door close behind me and I sit down in the black mesh swivel chair next to Leon. He gives me a small smile before I realize he probably thinks I’m a beta. My scent blockers should be enough. When is my heat due again? I vaguely wonder as I slip my backpack onto the floor next to me and pull out my laptop, opening the document to this stupid paper. “The paper on your favorite mineral and its multitude of uses?” He asks, glancing at my screen and I nervously huff out a laugh.

“Yup. I went with obsidian.” I say as I look back at him. His eyes are like two pools of blue, oceans in their entirety and threatening to drag me under and drown me.

“Good choice. Quartz,” he points his thumb at himself with a small smile as he runs his fingers through his hair before training his eyes on his paper. We sit in comfortable silence for about 10 minutes before the first cramp shoots through my gut. I press a hand to the muscle, hoping pressure will relieve the ache before it increases. I tense up as I groan, dropping my head to the cool desk as my skin feels like it’s on fire. “Are you okay?” He asks, placing a hand on my back, and the warmth of his hand makes me release a very different kind of groan, which I try to muffle by clamping my teeth down on my bottom lip, so hard I may be drawing blood. Heat washes over me and I vaguely register that I am absolutely going into heat right here, next to this alpha I just met. I reach down for my phone to check, and that’s when I realize that I am a week early for my heat.

“I’m fine, I just need to go, I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I stand quickly, slamming my laptop closed much harder than I should before practically throwing it into my backpack, slinging the fabric over my shoulders before I feel a hand lightly wrap around my wrist, not restraining me, just… catching my attention.

“I’m sorry, I can go if you need the-” Leon trails off, his voice fading into silence as his eyes widen. “You’re an omega?” He asks, and I know my scent blockers aren’t very effective anymore. Not against a sudden onset of heat in the middle of the day. I nod smally, feeling tiny compared to this alpha, despite him still sitting down in his own chair. The place where his skin meets mine on my wrist tingles, sending sparks up and down my arm as I am suddenly extremely grateful that I didn’t wrap myself in a sweatshirt. I’d be sweating through it by now.

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, taking a deep breath while facing away from me, as if he’s trying to compose himself before he speaks again. “Sorry, you’re just… You smell amazing…” He practically rasps, voice dropping to a painfully attractive octave. “I thought you were a beta when you walked in. You shouldn’t be out this close to your heat,” he mumbles, still unable to meet my eyes.

“I’m not due for a week. Trust me, I intend to go home,” I explain, and he nods as he lets go of my wrist. Without another word, I walk briskly to the door. I don’t breathe until I’m out in the fresh air, trying to wash Leon’s scent from my nose before I begin to practically sprint toward the parking lot where my car is. I’m almost there when I hear whistles behind me. Oh no.

“Where you going, pretty ‘mega?” My hands shake violently, slick pouring into the center of my panties due to the incoming heat, and I hear several sets of footsteps behind me. There are at least 3 of them. A cold hand lands on my shoulder and I yelp, dropping my keys to the tarmac as tears brim in my eyes. The alpha spins me around as his friends snigger behind him and his hard body presses me against the nearest vehicle, hands roaming over my jean covered thighs as the hot tears pour down my cheeks. His scent is vile, aggression and sweat wafting off of him in waves, and his nose runs along the column of my throat. “You smell so good, baby. How about you let me take care of your little problem?” His voice is gravely and harsh, tongue licking up my neck to taste my sweat. “God, I’m gonna knot you so-”

“Get the fuck off of her.” A voice says, and it takes my mind only moments to realize it’s Leon.

“Fuck off, finder’s keepers.” I squeeze my eyes closed so tightly that harsh colors flash across my darkened vision, and my hands push against his cotton tee shirt pointlessly.

“Then how about this?” The weight is gone, ripped from my body and I open my eyes to see that Leon has physically ripped the guy off of me and I watch as his body collides with the vehicle next to us, the white metal slightly dented from where his head hit before Leon’s fists tighten in his shirt, pressing him into the truck. “Touch my omega again, and you won’t be leaving unless it’s in a body bag.” Leon lets him go and we both watch as the alpha runs away, followed by his lackeys. If he had a tail, it’d be between his legs.

I sink to the ground, knees pressed to my chest and my hands press into the dark concrete. “Holy…”

“Are you okay?” Leon is there, crouching at my level. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” I shake my head, hands twitching, begging me to reach out and touch him and I can’t stop them as one lands on his shoulder.

“I just want to feel safe... Can you hold me?” I whisper, and it’s only seconds before his palms skim along my bare arms. Feeling like I’ve been shocked with straight electricity, my gasp escapes as I shift to press my nose into his shirt, the blue cotton/spandex mix beneath my lips driving me up a wall and rushing more slick into the gusset of my panties.

“Of course.” His words are soft, fingers carding through my hair in soothing motions. His lips are soft as they press to my temple and I clutch his shirt tightly in my fists. “What do you need?” He asks, making sure to address me by my name.

“You, alpha…” I whisper, desperation in my tone. “Please…”

“Fuck…” Leon mumbles, nodding and accidentally brushing his nose through my hair, and he groans. “Okay, come on.”

The kisses are all tongues and teeth, lips connected as teeth nibble at the already plump flesh as the door opens. Thank god he has an apartment, cause Dad would never let me bring home an alpha for him to fuck me through my heat. The room smells overwhelmingly like him, air fresheners be damned. Palms on hips, slipping into the waistband of denim, untucking shirts, fingers dancing across skin and I tug on the hem of his light blue shirt, silently pleading for it to come off.

“Need something, sweet girl?” He chuckles, a teasing edge to his voice. A whine slips from my lips into his mouth and he pulls back to press our noses together, foreheads in contact as he looks into my eyes. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Off, please, Leon.” Well, he said words. I managed that. He peels the fabric from his chest, my eyes raking over the exposed muscles and soft flesh.

“Eyes up here, ‘mega.” His finger slides under my chin, bringing my eyes to his as our lips collide again before parting to remove my own tee shirt, dropping the cotton onto a pile on top of his. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers under his breath. Before I can process the movements, my feet are off the ground before I feel the weight of the couch beneath me as he tugs on my waistband. “Can I taste you, ‘mega? Please?”

“Mhm,” I hum through my bitten lip, teeth pressing into the tender flesh as I help him remove my tight jeans, my panties flying somewhere in his apartment as he buries his mouth against my cunt without further question.

His name leaves my lips in a squeak as my fingers thread through his dark blonde locks, tugging the strands lightly as his tongue laps at my sex. Growls rumble from his chest as he sucks gently on my clit, the suction forcing gasps and moans from my mouth; I look down and find those intoxicating blue eyes locked on me, the wet sounds coming from my center absolutely lewd. How do people live without this?

“Do you want my knot?” The question should require more thought. More attention.

“Yes. Please alpha, need it.” Leon stands, lips and chin coated with my shiny slick, and I watch as he licks the fluid off his lips before using his fingers to wipe off the remainder before sucking them into his mouth. Oh fuck, that’s hot. Nimble fingers undo the buttons of his jeans, tugging the zipper down tauntingly. “Leon.” His name comes out as a frustrated groan, and I’m gifted by the sweet sound of his light chuckle.

“Patience is a virtue, sweet girl.” I groan, a small laugh of my own filling the air as he comes up to kneel between my thighs, the skin of my ass pressing against his thighs as he leans forward to rub his cock along the length of my core. “Fucking shit, got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, ‘mega. Have you ever had a knot before?” He asks, rolling his hips so his tip bumps against my clit and I shake my head no. “Have you ever had sex with anyone?”

“No…” I admit, hands coming up to press against my hot cheeks.

“That’s okay, ‘mega. Do you want to keep going?” I peek between my fingers to see his soft smile. He is willing to stop for my comfort. “I can make you come in other ways if you don’t want-”

“I want your knot, please Leon.” My hips cant on their own accord, rubbing against him and his groan quickly dissolves into a huff of laughter, the sound filled with affection and gentleness.

“Okay, baby. We’ll take this slow, okay?” His head nudges at my opening, pressing the head in. The slight burn doesn’t last as my body adjusts to him, his arms caging me in on both sides of my head filling each of my senses with nothing but Leon, Leon, Leon. It continues like this, him pressing his length pressing in an inch or two before he pauses, huffy breaths puffing against my face as his peppers my face in soft kisses, my hands cupping his jaw and nape of his neck to feel some semblance of balance as he splits me open. I have nothing to compare it to, but he feels pretty big to me. Finally after a painstakingly long time, his hips press forward, flush with mine, and we both release shaky pants at the sensations.

“Please move,” I whimper as my hands shift to dig into the firm muscle of his shoulders, dull nails leaving crescents in his flesh.

“Anything for you, my sweet little omega.” The sweet words are quickly drowned out as he begins a leisurely pace, and I can feel the drag of his cock against my walls at every movement he makes. Kissing is futile by this point; We’re practically just breathing into each other’s mouths. His pace begins to steadily climb, faster and harder as his deft fingers rub soft circles over my bud, my head thrown back in response to the new sensation. “Does that feel good, sweet girl?” I nod before his earlier command rings through my ears.

“Yeah, Leon… Feels so good.”

“Such a perfect little omega, my omega.” The possessive tone sends a wave of heat straight down my spine as he continues. “That alpha touching you earlier… God I wanted to rip his throat out…” Hips slapping harder against mine as my moans grow in pitch, his name practically the only coherent sound that can be heard from my lips.

“Yours, alpha. All yours.” The blonde nuzzles into my neck, teeth grazing across my sweat slicked skin. He speaks, and it takes a nip to my ear to realize he’s speaking, my focus being tugged between the wet sounds of us meeting, his teeth on my neck, his scent in my nose, and his dirty words in my ears.

I want to claim you.

Fill you til it spills from that tight little pussy.

Want my babies, sweetheart?

Knock you up, god you’d look so pretty carrying my babies, ‘mega.

I nod blindly, barely unable to form words anymore as I’m so fucked out, so cockdrunk.

“Yes, please, fill me. Want it. Want you.” I groan in protest as he pulls out, emptiness bringing tears to my eyes before his gentle caress causes me to peel my eyes open to meet his. I’m greeted with a new sight. This isn’t just Leon.

This is my alpha.

“Present for me, ‘mega.” I nod, flipping over so my knees press into the scratchy fabric of the couch, arms resting on the arm rest as my body arches for him practically unconsciously. This is how it feels to find your mate. Callused hands trace the skin of my back, rubbing softly over the skin of my ass before his tip presses against my opening again, sliding in much easier than before, the wet slick aiding in creating a smooth glide and I practically feel him in my throat as he resumes a fast pace. Mumbles of curses fall into the air, sweaty skin pressing to my back, giving him access to whisper in my ear.

“I want you to come for me. I’ll give you my knot if you do.” The rough tips of his fingers return to my clit, rubbing much faster circles as the band in my gut pulls tight. “Come for me, omega.” That’s all it takes. I come with a yelp of his name, followed by a chorus of ‘alpha’s mixing with ‘Leon’. He growls, leaning forward to press the expanding ring of muscle into my pussy as his teeth sink into the flesh of my neck, locking us together in every sense of the words.

Gentle hands maneuver us to our sides, his warm body spooning as he grabs the blanket from the back of his couch to drape it over us as the sweat on our skin rapidly cools in the now chilly air of his living room.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, lips pressing soft kisses across my exposed flesh, and he sounds almost guilty. I nod sleepily, reaching back to run fingers through his hair with a chuckle. “Something funny, cutie?”

“I don’t think sharing the textbook is gonna be an issue anymore.” At my words, we both burst into a fit of giggles, panting breaths as I turn my head to press our lips together before I gasp, hands coming up to my mouth.

“What?”

“My dad is gonna kill us.” I admit with a nervous laugh.

“Nah. I meet parents like a champ.” His face practically drips with confidence and I chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah. Look at my face. This is the face of ‘I’m absolutely not sleeping with your daughter’.” The laughter is uncontainable now.

Oh yeah. Definitely.

Tags:

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #Alpha!Leon #Omega!Reader #resident evil fanfiction #Alpha!Leon Kennedy

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trulybetty · 3 months

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05 x mirror - joel miller x reader (au)

prompt: mirror pairing: joel miller x reader word count: 656 notes: fluff, no outbreak, no y/n, no reader description, stormy weather mentions and cheesy motels summary: bad weather causes a change in plans and a delayed trip home

x. masterlist

“Oh, come on Joel, it's just one night,” you told him as you lugged your luggage over the threshold, saved only by Joel's damp forearm snapping out to catch the door before it could swing back at you and possibly knocking you over. “The weather is too bad to be on the road. You said it yourself.”

Joel grumbled at his own words being used against him. Carrying the rest of your belongings in he stood in the doorway taking in the interior of the motel room that was home for the both of you for the night.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked as he dropped the bags to the floor.

You laughed as you dropped yourself onto the edge of the ruffle-edged bed with hot pink sheets.

“What did you expect Miller? The place is called 'Cupid's Inn', and our room options were Wedding Night, Honeymooners or Vow Renewal.”

“I just thought it was a joke,” Joel muttered, his eyes scanning the room. “I didn't realize it would actually be themed like this.”

The room was a visual assault of kitsch and romance. A large mural of cherubs at the headboard, pink wallpapered walls, heavy velvet curtains that framed the window. Then heart-shaped decorations with lace frills and silk rose petals scattered across the floor leading up to the room's main feature, a bright red heart-shaped jacuzzi with a built-in water feature.

“Well, it looks like we're in for an interesting night,” you teased, waving a hand toward the jacuzzi in the corner of the room.

Joel shot you a glare, his irritation was evident. “I'm not getting in there,” he said firmly, “I think I'd rather risk the storm sleeping in the car than this.”

You couldn't help but laugh at Joel's reaction, you found it all amusing in spite of Joel's less-than-impressed state. “Oh, come on,” you said with a mischievous smile, patting the spot next to you on the bed. “It's just for one night. We'll survive it,” you reassured him.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, he was clearly exhausted from the long drive. The weather had derailed your travel plans, flights cancelled so a rental car was your mode of transport back home to Austin.

“Anyway,” you said, shuffling over to make room for him on the bed beside you, “we couldn't have picked a more romantic location for Valentine's Day?”

Joel rolled his eyes but reluctantly sat down beside you. “Fine,” he sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

You leant back and looked up to the ceiling and let out a shriek of laughter, “Oh my god,”

Joel’s eyes followed yours, and when he saw the mirror mounted above the bed, he let out a groan. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“It could be fun,” you said playfully, a cheeky grin spreading across your face as you caught his reflection in the mirror.

Joel just shook his head, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his eyes. “Only you could find the one kitsch motel in Texas.”

“Admit it, you're a little bit curious.”

He looked at you, his expression softening into a reluctant smile. “You're impossible,” he said, but there was no annoyance in his voice, only affection.

“It could be fun,” you flirted, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “You never know.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, a playful challenge in his eyes. “Fun, huh?”

Before you could respond, Joel quickly moved, his hands gently but firmly grabbing your shoulders, flipping you over so that you were now lying on your back on the bed, with him hovering above you. His face was inches from yours, his breath mingling with your own.

Then, with a tenderness that contrasted with the room's gaudiness, he kissed you.

As Joel pulled back, he conceded, “I guess we can make the best of it.”

You smiled up at him, “That's the spirit.”

#x29 valentines #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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absolem0 · 20 days

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. B A S I C S ∙ ✦

Name: Sol Adventus Nicknames: none Age: 26 Nameday: 7th Sun of the 3d Umbral Moon Race: Raen Au ra Gender: Male Orientation: tbd Profession: Warrior of Light

. P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S ∙ ✦

Hair: off white since the end of Shb (dark purple/blue, almost black before) Eyes: Odd eyes due to light corruption- left eye dark teal, right eye light teal. White limbal rings, white pupils. Skin: brown Tattoos/scars: light corruption marks all over, one scar down the chest on the left side Addition: Unusually long tail from birth, only got longer in Shb

. F A M I L Y ∙ ✦

Parents: Raen father from Thavnair (dead), Raen mother from Kugane (alive) Siblings: Older sister (dead), younger brother (missing) Grandparents: grandmother on mother's side, both grandparents on father's side In-laws and Other: None Pets: only his chocobo Eshu Addition: almost always accompanied by Midgarsormr (not the big one, the little one). Since EW - by blue starbird and "mount" Arion.

. S K I L L S∙ ✦

Abilities: Archer, naturally evolved into Bard. Is proficient White Mage. Over expansions gets experience (willingly or not) with other classes and can be reluctantly considered an "all rounder". Bard and White Mage being his only main jobs. Has a high affinity to wind aspected aether. Hobbies: Fishing, hunting, carpentry, poisons, aetherology.

. T R A I T S ∙ ✦

Most Positive Trait: Reliable, protective Most Negative Trait: Avoids emotional conflict (sometimes even physically)

. L I K E S ∙ ✦

Colors: Black, white, light blue, green Smells: ripe fruits, "forest" smells, the smell of "cold snowy weather in the morning", warm wood that has been on sun. Textures: cool touch of the blade of his dagger, feathers, thick but soft fabric, paper. Drinks: Tea, juice, likes trying out new (non alcoholic) drinks wherever he goes.

. O T H E R D E T A I L S ∙ ✦

Smokes: Never tried Drinks: Prefers heavy drinks, but in measured amount. Doesn't get drunk easy, and rarely feels relaxed enough to. Drugs: Had some hand in hallucinogenic poisons, but was quickly dissuaded from venturing deeper into that territory. Mount Issuance: Eshu, grey colored chocobo. Has enough experience to help out in any battle, enjoys chasing small critters. Been Arrested: By all laws of Gridania he should have been arrested for illegal hunting, but somehow never was. And afterwards who would be arresting a Warrior of Light.

Tagged by @nights-at-crystarium :D Tagging @shirtlesslizard @ksilberne @shavothehusky if you're feeling up to it :3. And also I am tagging my every ffxiv follower who sees this post, feel free to do it!

#ffxiv #oc time #god I took so long because I kept forgetting to check sol's nameday date #and I need to draw a non meme art for him it was a struggle to find good picture with his face #damn #au ra

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echantedtoon · 6 months

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Phone Call

(WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS!!: First of all, warning for Wally tripping and falling down the stairs. Secondly, Welcome Home and Wally Darling do not belong to me. They belong to partycoffin. This is partially based on the audio someone did of Wally falling down the stairs made by james.80085 on tiktok. Please support both the original content creators.

This fandom has a grip on me but I don't feel like writing a whole bunch for it since I have other projects so all I'm doing is this simple oneshot with GN reader. Take as platonic or romantic. You're choice. Just know this is based on the idea of a Muppet au which is basically humans live alongside living Puppets.)

Once upon a time-

"...No. That won't work. How many stories have started with 'Once upon a time' anyways? It needs to be original."

The sound of a crumpled up paper soon after hit the wall.

Once in a land far, far away-

"...Nah. It sounds like the start of a fairytale. And this episode doesn't revolve around any fairytales so an opening like this wouldn't make any sense to start with."

A crumpled wad of paper gracefully flew through the air before bouncing off the opposite wall and landing with a couple thuds until it stopped just a few inches away from the first one. Both of which missed the trash Bin standing no more than a few inches away from them. Surely a waste of both paper and space but right now you couldn't care less. Too busy with trying to write the next episode's darn script. Not that anyone was really giving you any hands to help, even though there was a certain someone who was SUPPOSED to be! That little blueberry pompadour wearing banana was going to be in BIG trouble if he didn't show up soon to go over this script with you!

"Maybe we should start off by the camera zooming into a storybook that opens up?"...You shook your head. "That's just the fairytale start again but a different way. UGH!!" Papers flew off the desk and onto the floor, pens shook, and a thud sound echoed throughout the small office as your head collided into the desk in frustration. "Write us a new start they said. We've already had Wally painting as the opener too many times they said. You're a script writer so it should be easy for you to come up something in a week they said. Wally agreed to help you they said. 'No problem' he said!" Your head lifted up as a scowl presented itself on your face. "Well then where the heck IS he!? He couldn't even have the heart to call first-"

As if the universe was making fun of you, a rather loud sound coming from the right side of your desk rang out. That high pitched RRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG echoing throughout the small quiet office and starling you into almost falling out of your chair and onto the floor along with the many small crumpled up papers, but luckily your hands grabbed hold on the desk and stopped you from wobbling and ultimately falling off and onto the floor. Blinking your eyes. ...What the- RRRIIIINNNGGG!!! The ringing came again after a few seconds of silence making your head snap over to the small electronic device set onto the right side of the desk. It went silent when you looked but sure enough two seconds later- RRRRIIIINNNGGG!!! The phone moved with the loud ringing noises.

Someone was calling you.

You blinked again before scowling and your eyes glanced to a clock mounted just above you on the wall. It was nearly noon!! And not only that! Most of the week's gone by without any help!! It made your annoyance grow, even after you grabbed the phone effectively making it stop ringing, and you held it up to your head as normal.

"Y/n's office." You had to restrain yourself from hissing that through your teeth in your annoyance.

"Hel-Lo.~" A male voice cooed from the other side of the phone and you froze upon realization. "Hello, Neighbor.~ Wonderful weather we have today, but I've noticed you've been stuck in that silly stuffy office lately."

....Oh that wise guy-

Your face deadpanned and your grip lightly tightened on the phone. "Gee. I wonder why? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?" A hand gestured at the mess of papers. "The script for the newest episode is due in a few days and you were supposed to come over to help me pick an opening for it!"

"Hm?" The man's voice hummed genuinely confused for a moment before letting out a little gasp of realization. "Oh! So that's what I've forgotten. My apologies! You see most of the week I've had this string wrapped around my finger because I knew I forgot something but I couldn't remember what. It's a good thing Poppy mentioned I should give you a call for whatever reason."

You wanted to facepalm SO badly. "WELL since you remember NOW, WHEN can you free up some time to get here!"

"Um. That might be a little bit of a problem. You see. I've been rehearsing the script we do have-"

"And you've gotten the whole script instead of the opening right?"

"Yes! Gee, you catch on fast. I was so confused on why we didn't just start with the opening, and I discovered because you hadn't written it in yet." Gee. You wondered WHY. "I don't think it's too much of a problem."

"That's because you're not the one who's writing it. I AM."

"Why not just start with someone else?"

Your mind blanked for a moment. "....What?"

"It's simple really. For example just start with...Hmm. Let's say with Howdy bagging groceries and then the camera turns to the door and make it as if the viewer walks out the door and then down the street to where I'll be stationed! I think the kids would love being able to see part of the Neighborhood before the adventure starts."

Your mind still bluescreened as the silence continued on your half of the line and after about seven seconds another hum from the man on the other end came.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? You came up with a good opening in a few seconds, where I've been struggling for the last four days!"

A chuckle from the other end made you flush in both annoyance and embarrassment. "I'm sure you would've come up with something just a good, but I'm glad I could help."

Well..at least you had an idea of what to write now, you just had to write it out and make sure to give a copy to the Director later, and give a mention to Howdy about the use of his store front. With a sigh, you felt some of the annoyance leave your body.

"Well, that's taken cared of at least. But where are you right now? I haven't seen you all day."

"The third floor." You paused. "There was a few new sets being painted and they wanted some insight on them! They all look very beautiful."

"...You could've just come downstairs and taken twenty minutes to help me out with this!," you ended up lightly yelling not that the puppet man seemed too bothered about it really, "I'm literally one floor under you."

"Well I am using the wall phone right next to the stairs," he answered giving a hum. "So you're going with the idea of Howdy's shop?"

"Most likely. It sounds like a good idea."

"Thank you. Oh. Speaking of Howdy's-..A funny thing happened the other day." He continued to ramble on as you sighed. "He had this shipment of apples, so I asked him if I could have a few. He said if I wanted one so bad, I could just drive down to the grocery store since last time I took the whole stack. And I said if you were going to eat all of those apples, you might as well share. Hahaha!''

Despite the annoyance you felt, you couldn't help rolling your eyes and sighing, but smiling afterwards. Puppet humor wasn't the funniest thing in the world to you, but little kids loved his jokes whatever they may be, and it did make you have some form of a small smile on your face.

"Are you smiling?~ I think I feel a smile on the other end of the line," you heard his voice coo and immediately your face burst red in embarrassment.

"What!? No. A-Absolutely not! *ahem* But it was good to finally hear from you. Just be sure next time you don't forget about any important meetings."

"Oh, hey! That also reminds me. I have a date with Jul-"

Unfortunately he never got to finish his sentence because you jumped when what sounded like a wooden thump call from the other side of the line followed by-...A cartoony slip noise?"

"Uh oh-"

"Mr. Darli-"

You also didn't have a chance to answer as a loud BANG from above made you jump from your chair and look up to the ceiling as what sounded like a decently sized object started to noisily fall down the stairs from the third floor AAAAALLLLL the way down to the second floor where you were at. Bang! Bam! Bum! Thud! Crash! And repeat! Meanwhile your ear was assaulted by a pained voice-

"OW- What the-!? AH!! EEEEEEYY-"

And other sputterings as the noises down the stairs above you continued until with a final CRASH noise, you heard a-....Cartoony symbol bang noise? That signaled the end of the assault of noises and then silence came from everywhere, only broken when a low groan of pain exited the phone.

"Mr. Darling! Are you alright?!"

"I-...I think I broke everything," his voice came through the other side of the phone obviously sore from the rough ride down.

You winced and cringed a little bit imagining the descend down. "Would you like me to bring you an ice pack?"

"You..better make it a couple, Sweetheart."

#wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally welcome home #wally x y/n #wally x reader #wally x you #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home x reader #Wally Darling #wally darling welcome home #welcome home arg

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as violence, blood, mentions of cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your suspicions lead to a discovery you'll never forget. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: James Conrad

Note: This is our last installment for October. I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you did too. Let me know what you think about me possibly opening drabble reqs/imagines as little continuations of these fics.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Be careful,” you gird as James grabs his suitcase, his black wool coat buttoned up under his grey scarf, “the roads are awful. Are you sure you can’t delay?”

You cross your arms and shiver as the frigid winter seeps in around the front door behind him. He gives a mournful shake of his head. He looks gaunt and ashen, a feat for someone with his bone structure. He makes himself smile and steps towards you, cradling the back of your head as he draws you close to kiss your forehead.

You close your eyes and tilt your head up, claiming a kiss on the mouth too. He pulls you close, embracing you tightly. You feel him tense before he lets you go. Your anxiety heightens as you retract and look him up and down.

It isn’t unusual for him to travel for work, you knew that when accepted the job, and you can’t complain for the profit of his efforts. Yet, the last few times, you’ve had this uneasy feeling. A little voice that keeps whispering to you that something is amiss. There’s something you’re not being told.

“I will,” he avows, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you echo on impulse. You mean it but that doubt nips inside of you.

“I’ll call…” he says, “please, don’t worry too much about me.”

“I always worry,” now that is true.

“Stay in tonight,” he says as he tucks his gloves into his pocket and hooks his finger through his keys, “it’s cold.”

“Trust me, I won’t be out,” you scoff, “bye babe.”

“Bye,” he says reticently, unable to restrain a twiddle in his fingers.

He faces the door and lets himself out. You follow behind him as he pulls the door shut and you push on it to make sure it catches. You hover your hand on the lock and watch him through the slender pane of glass set into the door. He looks back as he gets to the car, raising his hand in a half-hearted wave.

He could cancel, couldn’t he? Say the weather was too much, the roads icy. He should be able to and he hardly seems eager to go. Or perhaps, only guilty…

You can’t wait another month for your answer. You back away from the door without locking it and take out your phone. You pull up the app and see the little dot in your driveway, backing out slowly. You shouldn’t have done it, you shouldn’t have slipped the tag in his bag, but you know you won’t sleep either way.

You’ll wait ten minutes before you leave. You slide open the closet and pull out your jacket and boots. You’ll have to keep your distance, try not to catch up. If he gets to the interstate, you’ll turn back. You’ll know then if he’s lying or not.

🌕

The sky darkens quickly. With your headlights off, it's even more umbrous. A full moon is expected and would help illuminate the road if it even deigns to emerge from behind the clouds.

You follow the dot on your phone, driving slowly to keep a safe distance, to not be seen. Your husband's care turns away from the interstate and your dread mounts. He doesn't head for the country roads either.

It's only as you take the next turn and hit gravel that you realise exactly where you are. You're headed into the industrial district. What a choice for a hookup. You're convinced now.

You dim the screen of your phone as the dot of the airtag blinks closer and closer in the app. You steer slowly over the stony lot past one of the block factories and past an inactive smokestack. You stop just as you spot the idling tail lights of James’ car.

You shut off your engine and watch as he does the same. You watch him through the darkness, the pillow clouds of the winter’s night casting him in ominous shadows. He gets out, his tall silhouette slightly hunched as he nearly staggers forward. He shakes his head as if he’s dizzy.

He nears the large building before him, soft light radiating around the crack of the large metal door. You note that he doesn’t bring his bag from the back seat. You already know this isn’t business, but that’s all the proof you need to sink into your despair.

You watch as the tall metal door slides back from within and he dips his head as he’s greeted by another figure within. You see only her outline. Her. You shudder and tear your gaze away, staring at the stone on your finger. You hear the heavy shift of the door as it rolls shut, clanging as it’s locked from the other side.

Fuck. What now? You know what he’s been up to but you don’t have a plan beyond that. Do you drive home and cry into a glass of wine? Do you get out and confront him? Tell him not to come back.

Suddenly, the world brightens around you as the layers of clouds recede and reveal the full face of the moon. The silver light beams down and shines on James’ car and the front of the dingy white industrial building.

Your eyes sting as you find yourself paralysed. Go back or forward. You don’t know what way to go.

A starling growl rips through the whistling wind and jars you. You look around, horrified by the noise, something eerie you can’t place. A wolf? Around here? You grip the wheel tight as your eyes return to the dented facade of the abandoned factory.

Your inaction, your indecision holds you there. Deep down, you didn’t want to believe. You couldn’t. You love James so much that maybe you can get through this.

Your hopeless thoughts are interrupted by the sudden shatter of glass. Shocked, you look up to the rain of shards as they fall from the second story of the building. A dark shape plummets from the height and heaps onto the ground, twitching. Oh god, it can’t be!

You lean forward, trying to see if the figure is still moving. Is it a person? Is it him? That fear submerges you and cuts through your hurt and anger. You get out without another doubt, leaving the car door open and you race towards the puffing body on the ground.

As you near, you slow, stopping just a few feet away as you realise it can’t possibly be your husband. It isn’t even human. The… creature raises its head, sniffing with its long snout as it bears its teeth with a ravenous snarl. Its silver eyes meet yours as you stumble back in terror.

What is that?

You shriek as it plants its feet and rises. You step backwards, twisting on your heel as you hurl yourself back towards your car. You run without looking back, hearing that thing pursuing you with its gritty breaths and crashing paws. No, no, no!

You pant as your shoulder hits the door of your car. You barely keep it from closing full and pull it back. As you do, you feel a fiery rip through your flesh, right down the back of your leg, ripping through your muscle. You kick back and launch yourself into the front seat.

You turn and pull the door shut, catching the wolfish monster’s head between it and the metal frame. You cling to the door as it snaps its jaw at you, growling and slobbering your leg throbs hotly. You shift the door and inch and pull it shut, slamming it against the beast's neck. It yelps and as it recoils and you let up enough for it to reel back in the dirt.

You quickly lock the doors and the windows and face the wheel. Your leg is almost impossible to control as it shakes, slick with blood as it seeps through your jeans. You’re dizzy as you feel your strength draining fast.

You won’t make it far if you don’t stem the flow. Fast! The beast hops onto your hood, its claws denting it as it hammers on the metal. You take your scarf from around your neck and tie it above your knee, tight, then tear away the dangling patch of your jeans to wrap the gash down your calf.

You shake as you sit back and turn the keys in the slot. You feel the fire radiating up your thigh, like your veins are filling with acid. The creature bends back the corner of your hood and the rumble of your engine dies as it buries its dagger-like claws into it. Fuck!

The monster turns its silver irises back on you, breath puffing as it watches you through the windshield. It spins and raises its paws, bringing them down on the glass, sending a spider web of cracks through it. It rears back again but before it can bring down the shattering hit, a blur swipes it off the front of the car.

You hear snarling and snapping. You squint as the edges of your vision blur. You’re losing too much blood. You can feel the world fading from you.

You glance over as another lupine creature tangles with the first. They’re fighting, rolling in the dirt and snow, thrashing and biting. Your head lolls back against the seat and your gaze wanders over to the building as you resign yourself to the weakness dragging your eyelids down.

In your final moments, worry bubbles over and pangs in your chest. That beast. James was inside, had it hurt him too? Is he still alive?

🌕

The world pulses around you, just on the other side of your unconscious. Blustering gales pound against metal, sweeping through and glossing over your raw cheeks. The rest of you is enshrined in ice, the dull hum of hot air blowing from something electric.

Your nose is dry and your lips are crackly, your body bound in achy knots. Your leg is emblazoned in fire as you quake, the frigid cold invading your very person. You cling to the blanket cocooned around you, groaning as your eyelids slowly lift.

There’s something musty in the air, a smell that makes your stomach churn. And your dry tongue is stained with the residue of something vile, metallic and visceral. You swallow and cough, rattling as you’re certain the pungent scent of blood is your own.

Visions of your wolfish attacker return to you and have you whining. Is this death? Purgatory perhaps. The high ceilings and iron rafters watching over you, a moon wrought in similar material hanging at one end of large space, with hands that tick like a clock, the words waxing and waning twisted on each side of the frame.

You cough again, a hoarse deep crackle that catches in your throat. You hear something, the soft clang of metal under rubber, soles nearing you as a shadow looms along your peripheral. A hush that hisses before a stolid heat spreads across your forehead.

“Shhhhh, honey,” James’ voice comforts you as it drawls like syrup, “don’t move, alright?”

He comes around the other side of the couch you lay on, his features narrowing in and out of focus. He drags close a chair and sits near you, taking your hand in his, doting on it as he kisses your knuckles. He tilts his head to press his brow to your fingers, as if praying.

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I tried…”

“James,” you croak, “what…”

“I think… I don't think I was too late,” he doesn’t raise his head, “but I don’t know if it was the right thing.”

“Please,” you rasp.

“The moon wasn’t gone yet, it wasn’t…” He murmurs, “I wasn’t too late…”

You don’t understand his ramblings. He rocks as he clings to your hands, raising his head as his eyes glisten. He watches you, terrified and ashen. He leans in and stands slightly to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he cradles your cheek, “this is what I never wanted…”

“You…” you close your eyes and remember, “lied?”

“I had to,” he says, “to protect you. To try– if you knew what I am–” he stops himself. He shifts, the chair legs scraping, and you feel the blanket tug up your legs. You shiver as he moves your legs. He unwraps it from the fabric rolled around it. He lets his thumb trace up the scabbed skin and lets out another shaky breath, “it worked…”

“What is going on?” You hiss and snap your eyes open, whimpering as you try to rip your leg away from his touch.

“Oh, no,” he pulls back and puts his head in his hands, “oh, sweetheart, I don’t know… I never wanted you to hate me–”

You wince as metal rumbles, clattering loudly behind him, revealing a grey winter morning and letting in a virulent gust. James stands, nearly toppling the chair, and faces the new arrival. He squares his shoulder, a formidable man even without his posturing.

“You!” He snarls, “shut the damn door!”

“Huh?” The female responds with a grunt, “good morning to you too–”

“You fucking idiot!” He storms towards her just as she slides the door shut, the echo of it hitting the frame rattles you. And his timbre. You've never heard him so angry, or even speak like that. “You— You—”

You see the woman, a blond much shorter than him, but unintimidated by his advance. Her blonde hair is tinged scarlet at the ends, something red caked down her chest, shamelessly peeking out from beneath her shredded attire. She puts her hands on her hips as she faces him boldly.

“What?” She challenges, eyes wandering to you, “oh… who’s this, Conrad?”

He sneers and steps into her line of sight, “my wife. Who you scratched–”

“I… I did?” She scoffs.

“Fuck off, Yelena,” he shoves her, “don’t play fucking stupid with me.”

“Oh, you want to be a bitch?” She retorts, “what happened to pack rules. We don’t touch each other.”

“You were going to kill her–” Your head spins at their conversation. What are they talking about?

“She shouldn’t have been here!”

You hug the blanket as your teeth chatter. Kill you? Flashes of dark fur, the grind of bending metal, the hiss of the engine as it dies, and the beastly silver eyes. No, it can’t be.

“What are you?” You whisper.

Their argument quiets and the both turn to you, faces shadowed with guilt. The woman, Yelena, he called her, glances at him from the corner of her eyes. His shoulders drop and he hangs his head.

“She is still alive,” she comments. “Maybe I didn’t cut very deep.”

“Deep enough,” he shakes his head, “I had to…” he can’t finish the sentence. She frowns and pats his back, “you saved her life. You did what you had to and…” she smirks, “it isn’t so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” he growls and shrugs her off.

He crosses to you again and resumes his seat. You watch him, speechless with confusing. You put your hands to the stiff cushion under you and push yourself up. You grunt at the effort it takes and your eyes find the ripple gash along the back of your leg. You stare at the crackly brown scabbing.

“How long…” you wonder.

“Ten hours. Look, I’ll explain but–”

Ten hours. A cute that serious couldn't heal that quickly. That's impossible.

The large door rolls open again. He cringes and his forehead lines with frustration at the interruption. You strain to see past him as a couple enters, the man striding nonchalantly, buck naked as a woman follows wrapped in a plaid blanket. She’s disheveled as he brazenly taps her ass, urging her ahead of him before he slides the door shut with an effortless nudge.

“Of course, Jesus,” James looks back over his shoulder, “Kraven, put something on. The fuck. What happened to not drawing attention?”

“Mm, it’s nice out,” the other man, Kraven grins, curling his arm around the woman who seems less than comforted by his embrace. She looks exhausted. “Oh, and who is this? So worried for me bringing back stragglers?”

James rolls his eyes and looks back to you. He’s quiet as he gives you a helpless expression. He stands and leans over you, keeping his voice low, “I’ll explain when it’s not chaos.”

He tries to press a kiss to your forehead but you turn your head so he can only peck your temple. Explain what? Who are these people? Where is she? The woman who must’ve drawn him into all this.

James crosses the room and snatches up another blanket, throwing it at the naked man. “A bit of decency.”

“Hey, this is my home,” Kraven snips.

The woman grabs the blanket as it drapes from his shoulder and she puts it around his waist, knotting it at the top. He lets her, unbothered entirely. He bends his head side to side, cracking the tension from it.

“Where’s the fucking coffee?”

“Language,” James warns as he looms before you.

“Kettle’s boiling,” an unfamiliar voice squeaks and another woman appears from the edge of the room. You have no idea where she came from.

Your head is pounding from the building wall of sounds around you. You hear the kettles now, heating up slowly, and the blasting blow of the electric heater, the wailing winds, the pulsing of heartbeats all around you. You cover your ears and cry out, “be quiet!”

“Ah, I see, a new friend,” Kraven muses.

“His wife,” Yelena explains.

“Another?” The quiet woman who drifts like a ghost adds.

“What happened to not shitting where you eat?” Yelena snips, “am I the only one who doesn’t bring their scraps home?”

“What scraps?” A voice comes from above and you peer up at a dark-haired man watching from the second level.

“Ah, don’t start, thrall-fucker,” Yelena sneers up at the man. The woman who stands near the shaking kettle looks away guiltily as the couple wrapped in blankets peek at her. Yelena chuckles, “oh, you didn’t know?”

“Quietttttttt,” another voice adds to the chaos as a tall blonde man appears at the top of the stairs, “she is sleeping.”

“Mm, and his precious little doll,” Yelena mumbles as she blows a raspberry. “When did you all get so goddamn cheesy?”

The kettle suddenly whistles, carving a cavern in your skull. You cover your ears and writhes, screaming again. Everything needs to stop!

“Enough!” James hollers, “Belova, Kemp, Kraven, Warlock, here. The rest, go!”

The room stills. The exchanges of looks, some amused, others skeptical, a few frightened. The woman in the blanket moves first as the man taps her arm, then the woman near the kettle follows her up the stairs as the tall blond descends past them and the dark-haired man above makes his way down without urgency.

Several doors above close as you look at those who remain. Yelena, that man Kraven, and the two other men. James turns to you, “Yelena, make my wife a coffee as I sort this out.”

“Is she dying?” The dark-haired man in wooly sweater asks. The other smells the air and his narrow eyes focus on you.

“She’s turning,” the blond declares.

“She is my wife,” James puts his hand up, “alright, so let me goddamn explain this to her.”

A few shrugs but no real response. Yelena pours the water that sounds like a tidal wave to you. James stands behind the armchair as he watches you.

“Look, this isn’t easy so I will be entirely clear. That… wolf you saw last night was Yelena, that woman there. And the other, if you recall, that…” his throat bobs, “was me. And these others, Kraven,” he gestures to the bare-chested man, “Adam,” the tall blond, “and Steve,” the man with the dark swoop of hair, “are the same. All cursed. Like me and now, you.”

“What–”

“I had to… you would die if I didn’t–”

You look at the ceiling, searching as your heart flutters. You don’t understand. It’s somehow not as bad yet worse than what you feared. He’s not cheating but he lied to you all the same. And now… if he had just told you, you wouldn’t have come. But would you have believed him?

Your eyes fall upon the metal-moon hung on the wall, the long arms marking the phases of the moon. Last night was a full moon…

“You’re…”

“A monster,” James confirms, “I’m very sorry. I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I should’ve tried…” he sighs and sits again, taking your hand, “I won’t ask forgiveness, it is entirely selfish to put this on you, but you will not be alone. Or judged. We only do what we must to survive.”

“What you must… you…”

“There are simple rules. When the moon is full, you’ll change. You can’t stop it but you must heed it. If you do not feed by sunrise,” he pauses and takes a breath. Yelena approaches with a mug and you take it dumbly, unsure what else to do, “then you die. It’s us or them.”

Your eyes gloss and you shake your head. What does that mean? You know, but…

“Last night…” you eke out.

“It wasn’t much,” he squeezes your free hand, “enough to keep you alive. With me.”

He has the sense to look mortified. You wiggle your hand free and turn your head. You can’t look at him. It’s not just what he’s done to you, but the thought of what he’s done to others, and what he’ll continue to do. What he wants you to do. What you have to do.

You swallow and stare at the black depths of your coffee. You feel your audience watching you. These beasts.

“I want to go home,” you murmur.

“Alright, I’ll take you…” he agrees softly.

“Now,” you demand, “away from these monsters.”

“Ha, you’re one of us–” Kraven begins.

“Shut up,” Adam barks at him, “James, we understand. Take her home. You are always welcome for the moon.”

“Wow, dinner and a show,” Steve snickers, “pretty good night if you ask me.”

Their casual attitudes are callous in your ears. Is this what you’ll become? Apathetic? Inhuman?

Last night, you were ready to do anything to keep your husband. You were even going to forgive him for straying from your marriage. But this, you don’t know if you can ever get past this.

#james conrad #dark james conrad #dark!james conrad #james conrad x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #illuminate #series #au #werewolf au #kong: skull island

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mountttmase · 1 year

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Masterlist

- . - Loz - London - Mason Mount enthusiast - . -

Requests are open so please feel free to send anything in, I’ll try and get to them when I can or if you just want a chat that’s fine by me 💚

Fics are below ⬇️

Smut

An Unexpected Visitor

An Early Christmas Gift

A Deal’s A Deal

Morning Glow

I Won’t Tell If You Don’t

Let Me Try Again

Don’t fight it

Blueberries

Am I Doing It Right?

You Drive Me Insane

Don’t Do This

Show Me How

Seeing Stars

Smutty blurb

Not Yours

Every Second Of Everyday

Someone You Can Trust

Fluff

Under The Weather

You Make Me Nervous

A Little Miracle

Three Little Words

You’re Playing Dirty

Where I’m Supposed To Be

Cherry Earrings

You know I’ll always be here

Ships In The Night

Five Minutes

Angst

Cold Hands Cold Heart

A Night To Forget

Worth A Shot

Until I Found You

I’m Yours

The Mixup

Lost And Found

Be Bad For Once

Are We Okay?

Damage Is Done

My Priority

Where You Belong

Like Magnets

Dad Mase

See You Soon

My Everything

Play The Game

Don’t Get Caught

Mummy’s Got One Growing Too

In Awe Of You

I’ll Fix This

Always There

Safe Place

Still Be Mine

Not Your Fault

Blurbs

I’ll Keep You Safe

Happy For You

Little Bean

Sweetheart

Insta AU’s

George’s First Easter

Multi Part

The Do-Over - Part One Part Two & Part Three

A Little Problem - Part One & Part Two

Brave - Part One & Part Two

MTC Christmas - Part One & Part Two

Baby Thea - Home Is Where The Heart Is & Always Meant To Be

Series

A Mountain To Climb

A Mountain To Climb: The Sequel

Winter Sun

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elikazet · 8 months

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Clexa!AU - Canon Devergence

After Mount Weather Clarke met Lexa, who had been exiled by her own people.

Okay, guys, I need you to give me links to fics with the same plot

#the 100 #commander lexa #clarke griffin #clexa #elikazetedit

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genshin-scenarios · 7 months

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Reunion: The End of the Night [Part 7]

Read the first series (Adopt a Wanderer) here! An AU where Scaramouche/Wanderer gets isekaied to your world - a found-family series.

Summary: The last chapter of the sequel is here! Featuring the Lantern Rite, you and Kuni are now traveling around Liyue.

Wordcount: 2758

Part 1

Part 6 <-

Initially, you weren’t sure if Kuni would agree to stay at Wangshu Inn until the both of you stepped out on its highest balcony, and the bustle of people below immediately dissolved into a jaw-dropping view.

No wonder Xiao frequents this place. You can’t imagine any other sight that would soothe the mind such as this. It almost made you a little jealous of those that lived in Teyvat, for being witness to sceneries so beautiful as part of their everyday lives.

Needless to say, you’ve since acquired neighboring single rooms at Wangshu Inn and started to traverse Liyue at your leisure. It was only a week or two before the Lantern Rite, so there were many commissions available to help local businesses prepare for the event.

Kuni was not as enthusiastic about working as a delivery-person, but at your reminder it’s a two-in-one of exploring and earning mora, he relented.

You’re actually kind of impressed at how fast he’s able to fly around. Meanwhile, you were simply trying to act natural when meeting people like Xiangling and Hu Tao at the harbor. You knew they lived here, but you really underestimated how fast your heart would beat when faced with characters you’ve only seen on screens!

Kuni likes to make fun of you for that, saying you’ll spontaneously combust at this rate since there were many more recognisable figures that you’d run into - and while it was true, you can’t help but feel a little excited every time. You definitely almost tripped and fell off the stairs when you realized Xiao was on the rooftop one night. But you digress.

Right now however, such things were at the back of your mind as you and Kuni were in the Minlin area - more specifically, to explore Jueyun Karst and the Hanguang Stone Forest, after Verr Goldet asked if you’d be willing to drop off supplies to crafters that frequent there for inspiration.

“Making crafts and weaponry in honor of the adepti is quite common during this season, especially in terms of commissions from high-profile customers. Normally we send our messengers there, but since I noticed one of you has a vision and is quite adept with flying around…”

You’d be getting paid a high sum for this after all. And, well… You did want to get Kuni some qingxin flowers to replace the ones you gave him in Sumeru, seeing as you did say as much with so much confidence before. He says you’re ridiculous for going to such dangerous places when you could just buy some from a shop, but you also wanted to share the tranquil view with him (despite how Kuni said otherwise, you find that his cat-like characteristics extend to lounging on tall vantage points. Perhaps he liked being able to see everything that was going on in this way).

“We should’ve turned this into a picnic.” You muse, tucking your feet carefully under your legs as you look around. Kuni managed to fly you up to one of the more spacious peaks in Hanguang Stone Forest. The weather is nice, and you’re taking a break from deliveries. “I can see myself having quite a nice nap out here.”

“The more you talk, the more I wonder if you’d survive alone.” Kuni’s words hold no malice, but you’re a little surprised that he’s chatting now, seeing as he’d opted to let you do the talking with the craftsmen earlier. “What if you roll over too much and plummet down?”

“Well… you wouldn’t let me die in such a lame way, right?”

“...”

“...Right? Hey—”

“You two up there! Might you be adventurers?” A stranger’s voice echoes from the bridge below, effectively stealing away both of your attention.

“Um, yeah!” You yell back. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“There’s a swordsmith stuck on Mount Hulao! He’s gotten trapped in the amber.” The person holds her head in exasperation. You feel a little bad for the lady; it seems like this isn’t the first time trouble has found this mysterious swordsmith. “If the two of you are able to rescue him, I’ll pay you for your services. Mora is no problem.”

When Kuni meets your gaze, he can only heave out a sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this loser.”

“We’ll do it!” You give the lady a thumbs up. Without a moment to waste, she gives you instructions on the swordsmith’s location once you descend the stone spire.

She marks another spot on your map. “And this is where our lodges are located. Once that idiot is rescued, please return him here. I told him not to rush to the mountains so early in the morning, but he kept insisting he could collect the amber from Mount Hulao as a finishing touch to his creation…”

“No problem, we’ll be back as soon as we can.” You assure her. “Um… may I ask if you’re his co-worker, or…?”

“Oh, I’m a painter.” She raises a hand to her heart, giving you a proper introduction. “My name is Lian. Both me and Yichen were commissioned to create works for this year’s Lantern Rite, as part of a larger collection to be on display at Liyue Harbour.”

“So this sword he’s putting finishing touches to is for that?”

“...Not exactly.” Lian purses her lips. “You can ask him more about it later on, if you wish.”

You manage to find Yichen quite easily, seeing as he’s only made it halfway up the mountain before getting caught by the clever defenses of Mount Hulao. With a bit of brute force, Kuni manages to break the poor guy out of his amber cocoon.

Thankfully Yichen gives up on the idea of continuing his search for amber - after an hour or so of being stuck inside it, he says it’s lost the original charm he envisioned - and you make it back to their lodges in one piece.

“Why use amber from that place anyways?” Kuni raises a brow. “You could simply buy any jewels you need as part of your budget.”

“It’s not about that,” Yichen explains, “One night, while we were out here to gain inspiration from our surroundings, I fell asleep while sketching decorative designs for the blade. I had a dream of the most beautiful sword, crafted from a gemstone of wonderful, rich origins… but it’s too last minute to order some from the city, where everyone else has already booked out materials.”

“And it doesn’t feel the same to get mass-produced gems.” Lian adds, reading his expression with ease. “You’ve been wanting to leave a sword here as an offering to the adepti, right?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Well, you made an extra blade. And talk in your sleep.” She shrugs. After handing you the payment for rescuing Yichen, Lian gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Maybe next time you’ll be able to finish it and deliver it to the mountains. There’s no need to rush.”

“By wonderful, rich stones… would noctilucous jade from the Chasm work?” You speak up.

“The Chasm?” Yichen’s gaze lights up. “Have you been there?”

“We passed through it.” Fishing out some samples you took with you from your backpack, you show them to Yichen. “I don’t know if these are enough - we sold the rest on the way to the harbor.”

The only reason you still had them on-hand was as emergency funds. Who would’ve thought they might be able to contribute to this man’s wish?

Almost in a daze, Yichen’s expression melts into a smile. “Yes… These would work splendidly! What is your price? I can pay a bit over market rates, since these are of a better quality, and—”

“You can do all that after you finish crafting your blade.” Kuni interrupts him. At your surprised look, Kuni tilts his head. “What? It’s already midday. If he wants to deliver that thing soon, he might as well get started.”

“I’ll be sure to return this favor! Please give me a few hours - it shouldn’t take too long for me to shape the jade!”

You never would’ve expected yourself to be dazzled by weapons of all things, but the finished product truly was a sight to behold.

As a sword fashioned for ceremonial purposes rather than an adventurer’s use, its hilt is engraved with small stones of noctilucous jade. The entire edge of the blade is plated with the gemstone as if coated in sky-blue paint, sharpened with masterful precision. You’re not sure how he’s managed such a thing, but it leaves the sword twinkling in a deadly manner. It’d look absolutely stunning under the sunlight.

“And now to test it.” Yichen looks down at the sword in his hands, before bowing his head and offering it to Kuni. “If you would… I’d like you to do the honors.”

“Me?” Kuni looks like he’s about to decline, but hesitates. “Why?”

Yichen straightens, giving Kuni a smile. “Well, aside from the impressive display you put up while rescuing me, the way you observed my workspace when we first arrived gave me the impression you were a little familiar with sword making.” He pauses. “But, you can also call it intuition. Between the four of us, I simply believe you’d wield this sword the best.”

“Hmph. Human reasoning really is nonsensical.”

Something in the air changes as Kuni picks up the sheathed blade, adjusting to its weight and equipping the scabbard so that the sword would rest by his hips. His gaze lowers as if recalling a ritual from long ago, making his way to an open area surrounded by amber trees.

There is no music, but you, Lian, and Yichen all fall silent. The wind picks up, twirling through the air while carrying gold and orange leaves.

Kuni takes a step forward, his hands shifting with graceful movements. He does not have a fan as one normally would with a sword dance, but in place he conjures anemo to take its form. Teal and ochre swirl around the timeless wanderer, and in the middle of it all is sapphire that unmistakably draws the eye.

It is blue in the richness of the sky and sea, harnessed into a blade that flirts with the light as Kuni flourishes it, guiding it through the air.

He cuts through the falling leaves, slicing them clean in half. It’s like time has stopped to witness his actions, preserving the fall of orange just a second more.

Suffice to say, Yichen absolutely begs Kuni to follow him up to the mountains to place the offering. (“It wouldn’t be right otherwise!”) The entire group treks up Mount Aocang, which you identified as the safest option for visit.

Lian gives you a painting of Kuni’s sword dance before you leave, along with another drawing of the both of you walking together at the front with a flabbergasted Yichen. Kuni doesn’t say much about this outwardly, but you notice the way he keeps an eye on where you keep it - safely tucked within your backpack.

“After the death of Rex Lapis, the adepti showed up at Liyue Harbour during a time of great need.

“They’ve since retreated to their abodes, but I just wanted to leave something as a sign of gratitude. Liyue Harbour is my home, after all. I’ll always thank those that help protect it - and to the two of you, for helping me accomplish this much.

“If you two ever need help while in the city, feel free to look for us. We’ll do what we can!”

On the day of the Lantern Rite celebration, where the giant mingxiao lantern would come to life and soar above the harbor at night - you find yourself wandering through the city to take full advantage of its offerings.

With delicious food, riddles, and shadow puppet shows to watch, there’s never a dull moment. At some point Kuni got roped into helping children mend their dolls, but he much prefers to get some relative quiet from the crowds; you end up in a shop that makes their own mingxiao lanterns, and allows you to customize yours before sending it off to the sky.

Instead of writing your wishes on the paper slip as instructed by Master Lou however, you place an additional slip on the table between you and Kuni, silently willing him to take it and read its contents.

Like school-children passing notes, Kuni raises a brow at the way you’re pretending you’ve been on-task the entire time. You stand up and chase after one of the staff members to ask a question, leaving him alone at the desk.

He would’ve expected your handwriting to struggle fitting onto a paper so small, but the words stand out in tiny, tentative letters.

‘Did you ever regret meeting me?’

Kuni silently pockets the note and finishes off his wish, tying it to his mingxiao lantern and exiting the shop. The lantern looks like it could be the stage of a shadow puppet show. Or perhaps, more optimistically, a page where the wishes written on paper could be brought to life. With how unpredictable the shape of a flickering fire can be, Kuni doesn’t doubt that a drunk man could witness a dream simply by watching the lanterns up close.

He joins you at the docks, where children and adults alike crowd around the harbor and balconies, awaiting the start of the fireworks show. Once the musicians begin playing, the lanterns in your hands start to glow, raising themselves into the air.

They gather against the night sky like a sea of fireflies, and as much as Kuni wants to say it’s simply an ocean of floating trash… the sight is something that brings him to pause.

“I’m not particularly mad or bitter about the past.” Kuni says quietly. It might’ve gone unheard beneath the music of the streets if he wasn’t standing next to you. “Even if you’re a bit of a liability, traveling around with you and making sure you don’t run into trouble aren’t such bad memories to have.”

The music swells, and something in your chest twinges with it. The melody goes tentative, tentative, before marching into a crescendo you recognise by heart.

“In that case, I have to thank you.” You reply, eyes on the lanterns that’re so far away now. “I never would’ve thought that offering shelter to a lost person would bring me to this day. But I don’t regret any of it.”

A whistle shoots through the air, drawing your line of sight up, and higher, to where the first firework blooms. It’s followed by a chorus of more multicolored lights, delivered from Naganohara Fireworks across the ocean. Perhaps one day, you and Kuni could visit Inazuma, or Mondstadt, or wherever else the wind blows. For now though, this sight is more than enough to captivate you.

The fireworks are fleeting, yet as you drink in the display of explosive lights, the moment seems to hang just a second longer for you to savor it.

Eternal, yet not. A long time ago, in a different place, Kuni had witnessed fireworks from your apartment window for the first time. Against the tempered glass, both of your reflections could be seen in tandem with the fireworks far away.

You’d asked him if he wanted to go outside for a better view, but Kuni had said this much was enough. Perhaps there was something about its beauty that deserved being admired from a distance - or, he might’ve seen similar sights from a beach in Inazuma, far from where the main city stood proud.

“...You know what? If we ever get separated, or if you’re the one who loses their memory - I’d fight to hell and back to make you remember again.”

“You say that as if I would forget.” Kuni replies, stating the loud implication as if it were fact. Maybe with his will, it might as well be.

“I’ll take that as a promise.” You lean against the balcony of the harbor, fireworks still going off around you. No one would know any better about an outlander being in their midst. “I’d have to annoy you day and night otherwise.”

Humans are horrible at keeping promises. “You’re lucky I know you.”

“And I’m glad that you do.” You smile, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Whatever happens now will be up to the both of you; destination, purpose, or dream.

The last firework explodes before the moon, larger than life and resounding against the darkness.

Happy Lantern Rite.

(End.)

Ending notes: thank you so much for reading this far! It’s certainly been a journey while writing ‘Adopt a Wanderer’, and I hope ‘Reunion’ was a fun sequel to read!

My initial concept for the series was just this feel-good, comfy fic with Wanderer (who at the time was still called Scaramouche quite often, time flies…) Now that it’s officially ended, I’m allowing requests to be made with this series as its context! So if you want a more romantic spin on it, or certain moments/alternate timelines, feel free to drop it in my inbox and I’ll write them when I have time!

Following that, I’m also working on a fanbook version of ‘Adopt a Wanderer’! It’ll essentially be a compilation of the og series and this sequel, but more properly edited and featuring bonus content (plus some spot arts and a cover!)

If you’re interested in getting the PDF copy of the book, just check my pinned post for more info!

That should be all from me for now, and uh… to those that follow me for other characters, I swear I’ll get back to my normal posts soon. You can also drop requests for them if you’d like, according to my pinned post rules and etc. Hope you’ll all have a good day/night!

#genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin wanderer x reader #genshin impact balladeer #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x you #genshin reader insert #genshin impact writing #genshin x reader

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wifetomegatron · 6 months

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countries and cities i've been to that i think the lost light crew will enjoy (vol. i)

i think ratchet would like switzerland. snowy alps, open green fields where purple and yellow poppies littered across the grass dance with the northern wind. he enjoys the secluded valleys and will spend hours just driving past the topaz lakes. he likes the quiet of it all, the serenity, the closure. he makes drift join him in their holoforms to walk, taking in the traditional log houses and brightly-colored buildings, shops, and restaurants surrounded by lush woodlands, upland meadows, and snow-capped cliffs. grindelwald because drift is fascinated by humans and their winter sports, ascona for when it gets warmer and the boats are out by the docks. in a first contact au, ratchet would most likely end up working in either zurich or geneva, working closely with earth's international bodies like the united nations to facilitate human-cybertronian relations. i can also see the medic crew stationed there as well; running the first cybertronian medical facility on earth.

drift, predictably, would prefer japan more. osaka and tokyo for its entertainment, where he and rodimus would spend hours exploring the nightlife in their disguises. at times, they would even go as their alt-modes. rodimus gets ahead of himself with all the attention he's getting. he'd travel through many prefectures, driving past the borders to clear his head — perks of having a conjunx that works closely with human organizations is that he gets exempted from all the paperwork — but always end up somewhere private, tranquil. the shrines, the forests, the mountains — he would even be bold enough to dream of settling down there. one time ratchet flew in to visit him at a resort by the foot of mount fuji, and his husband was neck-deep inside the natural saunas. content and purring, sinking into recharge against the stones.

i have a feeling brainstorm and skids would stir up trouble somewhere in the netherlands. most likely in the infamous lecture halls of leiden university, where great minds like descartes and rembrandt once walked in. they'd hate the weather, where the sun becomes optional the moment it hits autumn (even before, apparently.) the roads are small, so they'd have difficulty navigating at first, nearly driving into a canal because of how fast people bike. direct, with just the right amount of witty, the pair are glad to enjoy the company of dutchies without having to rely on their (human) food because nothing that they've seen looks appealing or digestible. getaway is also there, most likely in amsterdam, where his holoform is most likely to get cornered in an alley and have his bike stolen.

nautica would love the sea, the vast, great open oceans of southeast asia would be the perfect place for her. ever the adventurer, she would drag riptide and velocity with her to explore the islands of the philippines & indonesia. where she'd learn how to dive and swim with the animals past the coral reefs. sweet girl nearly cried when she saw a group of whale sharks. anode and lug are content sitting by the beach, sipping on their latest invention — coconut-infused energon. bali is where i imagine the girls ( and riptide ) would go for a nice getaway. the people are all smiles, warm and friendly, and passionate about their culture. even if the two are more inclined towards the sciences, the flourishing art and spirituality of the balinese people made them feel at home again. ( if not nostalgic for caminus.)

i know rodimus is living his life in spain. maybe it won't be his designated home on earth. but with the lost light stationed in geneva, where ratchet, minimus, and megatron are with the rest of the united nations council ( because there is no way they can park the ship anywhere in the new york branch ), barcelona was his first solo trip on earth without straying too far from his co-captain's watchful eye. it was the peak of summer and there he was under the sun. the people were only initially surprised, but then again, they'd probably seen weirder things than a sixty-foot-tall robot asking them if he could join their game of volley by the beach. he bumps into krok and his rag-tag team — who's also trying to get away from minimus — so that's how he and misfire end up nearly drowning after a competitive game of water tag.

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hlficlibrary · 27 days

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hello! how are you doing? Could I ask for a kind of specific type of rec? Basically I'm craving fics where either of them (or both) have a kind of understanding of their feelings for the other, in an unspoken way based on the ~vibes and have been dancing around each other for a while for whatever reason until finally get together? a hint of pining, longing, sexual tension maybe? 😅 thank you 🩷

Hi, anon! I'm doing well and I hope you are, too! I think I know the kind of fic you're talking about, so here are some that fit that...

[Edited to add: I forgot to say that I have a pining rec with a few others on it, too that would pretty much fit what you're looking for as well ✤ Pining ]

Big, Bright World by RealName

It really was just a little crush in the beginning, nothing to be worried about. Louis had never really liked anyone he'd worked with in the past, but he was sure he could control himself. Little did he know that over time his 'little crush' would develop into a blazing inferno of Hell-fire proportions. Every day, Louis' feelings became more intense, more immediate, each little smile and gesture and silly flirtation mounting up into something palpable, with a life of its own. Louis felt it every moment they were together.

The only problem? Harry was engaged to someone else and had been from the moment Louis started working at Visionary.

Office AU (not based on the TV show).

smell the sea, feel the sky by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

They’d been planning this beach trip for months, stressing around work schedules and engagement parties, trying to find the perfect place to stay in and a time where there wouldn’t be families everywhere but the weather still perfect. Louis had spent what felt like hours researching and planning, dinners with Zayn and his boyfriend at their house that just ended in looking at places and sending them to Niall. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks, getting away from his job and his bullshit neighbours and the noise of the city.

It seemed ridiculous, really, that in all that time, Zayn hadn’t mentioned once that Harry was coming.

Or, Louis doesn't know how he's going to spend a week with the one person he wants and can't have. Harry proves him wrong.

That Howling Infinite by sweettartine / @sweettartine

When Louis struggles in the literature class he needs to pass to graduate, his professor assigns him a tutor. A cute tutor. A cute tutor with a boyfriend. It's just as well. Louis isn't looking for a boyfriend in his last semester of college. But trying not to fall for Harry Styles might be impossible.

Or, the one where Louis and Harry fall in love while reading Moby Dick.

You're the Light by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

#ask #anon #ficrec #minificrecs #pining #sexualtension #realname #sweettartine #lightswoodmagic #allwaswell16

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ghost-party · 1 year

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Pairing: Erwin Smith x F!Reader (Modern AU) Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: anxiety, swearing, alcohol, work stress, secret relationship, teacher-student relationship, age difference, explicit sexual content, nudity, fingering, desk sex, a little possessiveness, size difference, talk of marriage and having kids, drunk Nile, mention of a sex dungeon, lots of romance, marriage, pregnancy/children A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift for the lovely @lady-lauren. 😊❤️ Merry Christmas, Lauren! (Also: To anyone else reading this, IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT INTERACT!)

FIRST CHRISTMAS

You really should have known things wouldn’t go according to plan when your plane nearly slid off the icy runway. But you were trying to be optimistic.

And you are in desperate need of a vacation.

Even now, as you stand at the edge of a group of fellow travelers, waiting to find out if your flight is just delayed or outright canceled, your phone keeps buzzing in your bag.

You know you turned off Teams notifications. But apparently, your office group chat — or at least part of it — has migrated to a group text.

With a sigh, you glance down at your lock screen, a familiar anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach. You feel guilty enough as it is, taking a week off to escape what already feels like an endless winter. But it felt like it was meant to be when you spotted an all-inclusive vacation deal at a Hawaiian resort.

The last thing you need, on top of a very untimely blizzard, is workplace drama and news that your boss has fired his third secretary in as many months.

As you swipe the notifications away, an airline employee confirms the news you’ve been dreading: Your connecting flight is canceled, and the soonest you can fly out is tomorrow morning — Christmas Day.

Nearly twelve hours from now.

And that’s only if the weather decides to cooperate.

Fucking fuck.

Luckily, it’s still early enough that all the shops and restaurants are still open. You leave a group of agitated businessmen to gripe over the situation and make a beeline for the nearest place with half-decent drinks.

To be honest, an airport Applebee’s usually isn’t your first choice. But as they say, desperate times…

It’s only once you’re seated at the bar, waiting for a “Tipsy Reindeer” with what you hope is a generous pour of vodka, that you notice the man seated to your right, with one empty stool between you.

He’s looking up at the flatscreen mounted on the wall, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watches the massive winter storm move across the weather radar. His phone is out, open to what looks like a text conversation. There’s a suitcase near his feet, along with a leather briefcase.

When he takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath, he notices you.

Caught staring, you consider looking away and pretending nothing happened. The last thing you need is banal conversation shared over six-dollar “Sleigh Bell Sips.”

But something keeps you from doing that. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s clearly a kindred spirit, another traveler stranded here because of the snow. Maybe it’s the printed copy of the Georgetown Law Journal resting underneath his phone.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome.

It’s even worse when he smiles at you, his blue eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. With his glasses now slipping down his aquiline nose just a little, paired with the knit sweater he’s wearing under his wool coat, he’s like a blond version of Clark Kent crossed with a J. Crew model. And maybe a smidge of Old Hollywood movie star.

“I was going to ask if you’re stuck here, too,” he says, his voice deep and warm. “But I think it’s safe to assume everyone is.”

You huff out a laugh and thank the bartender as he hands you your oversized drink. “Guess it’ll be a white Christmas after all.”

His smile widens a little. “Are you heading home, to see family?”

“Nope.” You take a large sip of your cocktail, and yes, there’s the vodka. “I’m being terrible and skipping out on the festivities this year. Mostly because it’s the only time I could take off work without my boss losing his shit.”

“Sounds like my workplace,” he quips, lifting a glass of what looks like scotch on the rocks. “Here’s to escaping for a little while. Or at least trying to.”

Your glass is comically large compared to his, but you lift it anyway. Another sip, and you twirl your straw around, thinking you spot a Santa gummy floating somewhere near the bottom.

“Do you work in law?”

When he looks surprised by your question, you nod towards the journal now pinned under his elbow.

“Oh! Yes. I’m a professor at Georgetown Law.”

You visibly perk up. You’ve always been interested in law, to the point where you were, for a time, thinking about going to law school. But you have what often feels like an incurable case of imposter syndrome, so you have yet to do much research, let alone take the LSAT.

“What kind of work do you do?”

His question only reminds you of the unread texts still piling up in your inbox, and you sigh, hard enough to elicit a look of concern from the man.

“Sorry. It’s a marketing job.” You take a larger gulp of your drink and explain, “I don’t mind the work, but I know it’s not something I want to do forever. And honestly? All the drama is exhausting.”

Now he looks intrigued, turning to face you as he rests his chin on his hand. “Would it help to talk about it?”

You laugh. “You’re already stuck overnight in an airport, and you want a stranger to bore you to death?”

He grins. “I somehow doubt you’ll accomplish that.”

“We’ll see.”

Between what you suspect truly was an extra shot of vodka and the fact that you haven’t eaten in hours, you’re already feeling more relaxed.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Pushing that thought away, because nope, you are not allowing yourself to crush on a total stranger in the middle of an airport Applebee’s, you fix him with a considering stare.

“At least tell me what name I should have them put on your headstone when I succeed.”

Your dark humor seems to delight him as he extends a large hand for you to shake. “Erwin Smith.”

By the time you’ve regaled him with the most memorable pieces of workplace hot gossip — including your boss’s suspected affairs, a manager’s very inappropriate purchases billed to the company card while attending a conference, and several coworkers’ attempts to commit fraud — you’ve both finished your drinks, along with a shared plate of nachos.

“I don’t know how you deal with it all,” Erwin says, rolling his suitcase beside him as the two of you step out into the terminal. He’s tucked his reading glasses into the pocket of his coat, which is now draped over his arm.

You wonder if his sweater is as soft as it looks, admiring the way it fits across his broad shoulders. It’s blue, like his eyes — but no, a different shade entirely, like the ocean at dusk.

Too much vodka. Focus.

“Yeah, it’s, uh… interesting. Wine helps, though.”

Erwin laughs. “I can imagine.”

“On top of all the work I do — which is probably too much, since we’re understaffed — it’s stupidly tiring. Not physically, of course, but mentally, emotionally…”

As the two of you walk past a Sunglass Hut, a Brookstone, and then, of all things, a Spanx boutique, he considers what you’ve said.

“Have you thought about quitting?”

“Only every day.” You try to say it jokingly, but it comes out flat and deadpan. “I just don’t know what else I would do. And, you know, having money is nice…”

You’ve debated disclosing your true ambitions, your growing desire to go to law school and pursue a career in that field. Initially, you didn’t want him to think you were only talking to him because of that.

But after a few hours spent together, you get the sense that, if anything, he’ll be curious to hear more. He’s an information sponge, soaking up every detail you’ve given him, no matter how mundane or salacious.

“I’ve been thinking about going to law school.”

He stops walking, his briefcase swinging at his side. “Really?” There’s a pleased smile on his face. “I think that’s an excellent idea — but I’ll admit, I’m biased.”

“Did you always know that was what you wanted to do?”

“No.” He glances away, watching a couple exiting the travel convenience store with neck pillows and blankets, no doubt preparing for a night of restless sleep.

“I was an English major in college.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, but also… not really.”

He chuckles. “At one point, I could recite a good number of Shakespeare’s sonnets from memory. I wanted to reach high school language arts.”

“What changed your mind?”

The two of you continue walking, exiting one concourse and heading for another. “My father started having some health issues, so I took some time off after my junior year, to be there for him, take him to appointments…”

His expression is unreadable. “It gave me a lot of time to think. Mostly about how we were going to pay off his medical debt.” He looks at you, explaining, “He’s a teacher, too — well, he was. He’s retired now.”

You nod, listening carefully, even as you pass a Starbucks whose cheerful Christmas music is blaring at full volume.

“Two of my friends were going into law, so I decided to give it a go. And I ended up working at their firm for a while before taking the job at Georgetown.”

“It seems that you liked it well enough to keep going.”

It’s his turn to nod. “I paid off my father’s debt, but I also fell in love with law. It’s fascinating. And as someone always looking for a challenge, it never fails on that front, even as a professor.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you for a few moments before you tell him, “I’m really happy for you. That’s the dream, right? To find your life’s purpose?”

He hums a little, tilting his head as he thinks. “I wouldn’t say it’s my purpose. It’s something I enjoy, but at the end of the day, it’s still work. It’s part of who I am, but not all of me.”

Looking somewhat abashed, he asks, “Does that make sense? I suppose… after watching my father give up so many years to his work — even give up his marriage — I’m more interested in making the time I have count. There’s so much more to life, isn’t there?”

In that moment, perhaps because of his earnestness, or the way he unknowingly speaks directly to some of your deepest worries and insecurities, you realize there’s no use in trying to avoid falling for him.

It’s too late. It’s already happened.

SECOND CHRISTMAS

“You do realize it’s Christmas Eve, right?”

Erwin blinks, looking up from his laptop for what feels like the first time in hours. In fact, it probably is. The coffee he brewed late in the afternoon has gone cold in his mug, as if the stiffness in his neck weren’t telling enough.

You’re standing in the doorway, wearing one of his Georgetown sweatshirts. It’s so large on you, the sleeves hide your hands, and he can’t tell what you’re wearing underneath it, if anything.

What a tantalizing thought…

With a sigh, he leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses, setting them on his desk. “I’m sorry. It’s this damn presentation.”

You saunter into the room, a disappointed little huff escaping you. “It can wait. You’re on break. We both are.” Slowly, you reach across his desk and push his laptop closed. “So take a break.”

He can’t deny that you make a good point. You’ve been done with classes since early December, but exams had consumed weeks of both your lives and made it difficult to see one another. Now that grades have been submitted and the holidays are here, his focus should be on making up that time you were forced to spend apart.

It’s a precarious balancing act, dating a first-year law student. Upon your acceptance to Georgetown, the two of you agreed to certain rules that helped to make things easier. You wouldn’t take any of his classes. He would only give you as much help as he would any other student coming to his office hours. He would show you no favoritism, nor pull any strings to make things easier for you.

And, most importantly, neither of you would tell anyone about your relationship.

That last rule had been inadvertently broken when Miche and Nile decided to stop by his apartment unannounced one evening — and proceeded to use a spare key to come in when he didn’t answer the door.

“We needed to make sure you weren’t dead,” Miche had explained while Erwin frantically pulled on a pair of pants and you hid under the covers, mortified.

“Yeah, you could’ve slipped in the shower,” Nile chimed in, smirking. “Or thrown out your old man back.”

“We’re the same age,” Erwin snapped.

“She’s most definitely not.” Miche was very clearly amused, wiggling his fingers in a wave when you poked your head out to glare at him.

Needless to say, it wasn’t an ideal way for you to meet his closest and oldest friends. But since then, they’ve made an effort to atone for their behavior. It’s not unusual for the four of you to have dinner together, often joined by their wives, Nanaba and Marie.

Other than that small, trusted group, no one knows that Professor Erwin is smitten with a student. And oh, how smitten he is…

He knew he was in trouble from the moment you met, both miserably spending your Christmas Eve stuck at the airport. You struck him as intelligent, funny, and tremendously kind, and if anything, his admiration of you has only grown over the past year.

When you decided to apply to several law schools, he had privately hoped you would choose Georgetown. And when you received your acceptance letter, he opened a bottle of champagne and cooked dinner for you both before congratulating you in ways that involved far less clothing.

He is, put simply, enamored. Your mind fascinates him, your wit and determination impress him, and your body —

“Erwin? Are you even listening?”

He startles when your hand waves back and forth in front of his face, and when you give an exasperated sigh, he smiles. “I’m getting distracted in my old age,” he dryly jokes, which makes you crack a smile.

“You’re ridiculous…” Throwing one bare leg over him, you settle yourself on his lap, and his hands instinctively move to rest on your hips.

“You’re forty, not eighty.”

“Some days, I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, please.” But you’re smiling at him as you run your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

He makes a small, pleasurable sound, leaning into your touch. Although he typically uses pomade on the days he teaches, he tends to forgo it otherwise. He can’t deny that this is one of the reasons why.

“If you really were an old man,” you muse, your voice light and playful, “you wouldn’t be getting hard so fast, just from me sitting in your lap...”

When you sink down a little lower, the outline of his cock pressing against you through his thin, cotton pajama pants, he groans. “I can’t help it. You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?”

He grasps the sweatshirt and tugs on it, just enough to reveal a little more of your bare thighs. You smile sweetly in response and simply tell him, “I thought I might have to persuade you to stop working.”

“Consider me very persuaded,” he murmurs, hooking his thumbs under the hem and pulling it nearly to your waist. Fuck, he was right. You’re wearing nothing at all. And he can see that you’re already wet.

“Have you been thinking about this for a while? Seducing me in my office?” His voice is lower now, his focus entirely on you as one hand slowly slips between your legs.

You open your mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp as he touches you, his thumb just barely brushing against your clit before he begins to slide two fingers inside you.

“I didn’t catch that,” he says, enjoying the way you brace your hands on his shoulders as he pushes in deeper and deeper. “Tell me, sweetheart… Have you been aching at the thought of me fucking you in my office?”

“Yes,” you finally answer, the word more of a breathless sigh than anything else. And it only makes him harder, the way you roll your hips forward, desperate for him in a way that’s utterly intoxicating.

He fingers you until you’re begging for his cock, your skin hot to the touch, your eyes hazy with desire as you clumsily strip off your borrowed sweatshirt.

While you fumble with the waistband of his pants, tugging it down far enough to reach into his boxers, he lowers his head and mouths at your breast, one hand pressed flat against your back as his tongue teases against your nipple.

He realizes it, not for the first time, when he has you sprawled across his desk, your legs pushed up as he fucks you deep and hard, his soft grunts overlapping with your lovely moans. It’s when you look at him, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, your back arching as you near your release.

You’re so beautiful like this, in every way, always. And he loves you.

He loves you so much, it feels overwhelming, in a way that’s both exhilarating and frightening.

He wants to possess you. Consume you. Worship you. Protect you. He wants to tell everyone you’re his, but also no one at all, because how could anyone else possibly understand?

As he rubs your clit in tight, little circles, kissing you, swallowing every needy whine and gasp of his name, he knows he’ll never want anyone else. It’s only been a year since you first met, but it doesn’t matter.

He loves you. And he’ll happily spend the rest of his life proving it.

THIRD CHRISTMAS

Although this is, first and foremost, Nile and Marie’s Christmas party, Erwin seems determined to strongarm the guests into celebrating your recent graduation. You quickly lose count of how many people congratulate you, and the seemingly endless refills of sparkling wine leave you feeling giddy.

It’s hard to believe it’s all over. But thanks to summer classes, along with a rigorous internship at Zacharias and Dok — earned entirely on your own merit — and too many late nights to even begin to count, you’ve graduated early.

Erwin has been glowing with pride for weeks now, ever since your commencement. No longer caring about hiding your relationship of three years, he showed up with an enormous bouquet of roses and practically swept you off your feet the moment he saw you.

It made sense. You were no longer a student, not that you had ever been his student. That was a rule you luckily managed never to break. But even so, many of your classmates had been shocked by the public display of affection. Others, however, cheered and wolf-whistled.

It’s been strange, pulling back the curtain and ditching the secrecy you’ve held tight to for the past two years. But it’s also been incredibly freeing.

You sometimes think about how miserable you were at your old job, always wondering if things would ever get better. And now here you are, with a brand new career ahead of you, along with a boyfriend who adores you so completely, it still blows your mind.

How did I get so lucky?

“I think the cookies are just about done.”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by Marie’s soft voice, and you turn to find her putting on cat-patterned oven mitts over her manicured hands. She’s wearing a red velvet dress that hugs her stomach, and you wonder if she should be bending over so much at seven months pregnant.

But when you offer to help, she shoos you away. “I’m fine, I promise.” And she proves it, pulling out the baking sheets with ease and setting them on top of the stove. “Trust me, this is a breeze compared to the twins.”

“Are they at your parents’ house tonight?”

She nods, picking up a spatula and impatiently poking at one of the chocolate chip cookies. “They’re a godsend. We’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Nile texted Erwin and said if the girls made him watch Elf one more time, his brain might actually melt.”

Marie laughs at that, leaning back against the counter. “He’s just annoyed that they didn’t want to make a gingerbread house with him this year.”

You dramatically gasp. “Now that’s heartbreaking.”

“Poor guy.” Marie shakes her head, then fixes you with a curious look. “Have you and Erwin talked about it at all? Marriage, kids…?”

Taking another sip of your drink, you consider her question. Truthfully, you have. It only makes sense to double-check with a partner that you’re on the same page when it comes to Big Life Events.

But it’s not something you’ve discussed lately. You’ve wanted to, there’s no doubt about that. However, between his hectic schedule this semester and your scramble to finish everything you needed to before graduation, it never seemed like the right time.

Seeming to sense your answer before you can give it, Marie offers you a kind smile. “I’m not trying to pressure you, I swear. I was just curious.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assure her, your voice a little too cheerful to compensate for your tangled thoughts. “It makes sense. It’s not like we’re getting any younger.”

Erwin turned forty-two this year. Does he really still want kids? And now that you’re living together, practically a married couple in every other way except legally, is it something that’s still on his mind?

Marie frowns and opens her mouth to reply when Nile stumbles in, clearly trying his best to walk straight despite his obvious inebriation.

He steals a cookie, stuffing it into his mouth, before asking Marie, “Haff oo seen Hange ‘n Mulblit?”

Marie tuts at him. “Chew before you choke, and no, I haven’t.”

“They left early,” Miche interjects, ducking into the kitchen to grab another bag of ice for the bar they’ve set up in the living room.

Nile looks aghast, quickly finishing his cookie before demanding, “Why?”

Miche shrugs, and Erwin appears behind him, leaning in the doorway. Unlike his friends, he seems sober. Almost too sober, considering how many times he’s encouraged partygoers to toast your accomplishments.

He catches your eye and smiles warmly. He’s wearing a sweater you bought for him last Christmas, and although his hair is still mostly slicked back, it looks softer than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Is he nervous about something?

The thought promptly leaves your head when Miche continues, “I’ve stopped asking shit like that, ever since Hange went into explicit detail about what they keep in their sex dungeon.”

Nile nearly trips over his own feet, and Marie snorts as she moves the cookies to a cooling rack. “They have a sex dungeon?”

“I’ve said too much,” Miche gravely states, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Nile follows behind him, while Erwin shakes his head, moving to join you at the kitchen island.

“It’s almost midnight,” he murmurs, placing a hand at the small of your back. His thumb moves up and down in a familiar, soothing motion, and you relax into him, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment.

“Time to take me home? Before I turn into a pumpkin?”

He laughs softly and noses against the crown of your head. “Exactly. Your carriage awaits.”

After saying goodbye to Marie and accepting a hastily-packed to-go container of cookies, you follow Erwin to the car and make small talk on the way back to his apartment. He tells you about the drinking game Nile was playing with some of Marie’s coworkers, Levi’s newest café on the other side of town, and Petra and Oluo’s adorable mishap under the mistletoe.

By the time he’s unlocking the door, you’re feeling a little sleepy and more than content with the idea of throwing on your coziest pajamas and climbing into bed. You’re so distracted, it takes you a minute to realize exactly what you’re looking at.

The living room has been filled with candles. They illuminate the space with a gentle, golden glow, and you catch the faint scent of something sweet in the air. Small votives are lined up on the faux wood floor, marking out a path. And Erwin has followed it, walking ahead of you to stand in the middle of the room, his expression caught somewhere between excitement and nervousness.

“W-what… Erwin, what is this?”

Distantly, you realize it’s a ridiculous question. You know what this is. You know. But you need to hear him say it.

As you slowly walk towards him, Erwin clears his throat. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but it took some time to decide how. Luckily, Hange and Moblit agreed to help while we were at the party.”

You feel much more awake now, processing his words. Your friends did all of this. Because he asked them to. Because he’s been planning this, for who knows how long.

Erwin shifts from one foot to the other, then quietly says, “When I was eight years old, I asked my father why he fell in love with my mother. His answer seemed frustratingly simple at the time. ‘She was like a dream — something I never knew I wanted, but once I did know, I could never let her go.’

“And when I was thirteen years old, I asked him why she left. He said, ‘Because I took her for granted. I thought the dream would never end.’”

He reaches into his right pocket. “I promise I will never take you for granted. I promise to make you happy, to always put you first, to give you all of me, always.”

By the time he sinks down to one knee, you’ve begun to cry, pressing your lips together to keep quiet even as you wipe at your tear-stained cheeks.

“I love you. I think I always have, from the moment I laid eyes on you.” His smile turns somewhat shy. “It sounds clichéd, I know… But I can’t help it. Not when it comes to you.”

When he holds out his hand, revealing a small, black box, you press your hand to your mouth, and he takes a shaky breath, overcome with emotion.

“I want you by my side for as long as you’ll have me. I want to have a family together, grow old together… I can’t imagine anyone more perfect for me than you.”

He opens the box, revealing a ring it seems he plucked from your errant daydreams, whenever you’ve wondered about what your future might hold. It always astounds you, how he knows you so well and manages to make it seem effortless.

“Will you marry me?”

The answer is obvious. There’s no doubt in your mind. Because just as he believes you’re perfect for him, he is perfect for you.

You love how he rambles when he’s passionate about something, the way he’s patient with you when you cook a meal together, especially a new recipe. You love when he dozes off on the couch with a book lying on his chest, the way he holds your hand and tucks it into his coat pocket when you take a walk after classes are done for the day.

You love that he hums in the shower, that he cries during heart-wrenching movies, that he’s a happy, lovable drunk, that he wants to try bird-watching and pottery, that he can fuck you so good, you nearly forget your own name.

And you love how he gazes up at you, tears glimmering in his eyes, when you finally manage to answer his question.

“Yes.”

FOURTH CHRISTMAS

You’ve just finished loading the dishwasher when you wonder where your husband has gone. After drying your hands on a towel, you can smell pine and cinnamon as you turn the corner and allow yourself to admire the Christmas tree tucked into the corner of the living room.

You love many things about your house, purchased right after your wedding. But one of your favorites is how much space you have. Erwin’s apartment was so full of bookshelves and furniture, he had settled for a four-foot-tall artificial tree that usually went undecorated until you came along.

But this year, he was the one who bought a much bigger version, along with colorful strands of lights, yards of garland, glittering ornaments, and even a tree skirt. He did it all in one day, surprising you when you came home from work.

Blowing out the candle sitting on the small table beside his usual reading chair, you think you hear his voice upstairs. And when you reach the second-floor landing, you smile, knowing exactly where he is.

You slowly push open the door, not wanting to interrupt. But your chest tightens at the sight of him sitting in the rocking chair — a gift from his father, who’s taken up carpentry during his retirement.

Your seven-month-old daughter is nestled against him, paying rapt attention as he reads to her from a board book called “You’re My Little Christmas Cookie.”

He’s wearing his reading glasses, and as usual, they’re making a slow descent down his nose. He dresses more casually these days, since he’s on sabbatical to both work on writing a book and be a stay-at-home dad.

It was something you both agreed upon, but he made it clear that if you ever needed a break from your work at Miche and Nile’s firm, he had no problem returning to the classroom — or even the courtroom — while you stayed home.

Your daughter grabs onto his forest green henley with one fist, babbling a little as he reaches the last page.

“That’s an excellent point,” he says, as if responding to a colleague, and your laugh gives you away, drawing his attention for a brief moment.

He smiles at you before setting the book aside and lifting your daughter up into his arms. She’s wearing one of the many Christmas onesies your friends have gifted you. After you’ve both kissed her goodnight and placed her in her crib, he follows you into the hallway, already opening the monitoring app on his phone.

“She’s learning to pull herself up and stand by the railing,” he says, pointing at the screen. “I’m worried she’s going to fall back and bonk her little head.”

“Nile instilled that fear in you, didn’t he?”

Erwin looks sheepish, but his smile turns softer when you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek.

“She’s already so big,” he murmurs, watching as your baby girl begins to doze off.

“You always say that.”

“What, you never think that?”

“Of course I do.” You playfully shove at him as he leads you into the bedroom, setting his phone aside.

In retaliation, he wraps his arms around you and hauls you onto the bed, trying to shush your laughter as he leans over you.

“You’ll wake her up.”

“And it’ll be all your fault.”

He grins. “I suppose that’s true.”

Realizing you’re still wearing your office attire, you sigh and reach up to begin unbuttoning your blouse. “But I really do think that, all the time. She was so little, and now she’s not, and it’s just going to keep happening, and…”

Erwin gently nudges your fingers aside, taking his time undressing you. “That’s how it goes, sweetheart. All we can do is enjoy it as much as we can.”

You watch him as he focuses on removing your clothes, your eyes flitting from his stubbled jaw line to the faintest hint of gray coming in at his temples. He looks tired, as do you, you have no doubt. But you can tell he’s happy — more relaxed than he ever was while teaching.

You’re distracted from your idle thoughts when he lowers his mouth to the swell of your breast, his hand sliding over the satin fabric of your bra.

“What happened to ‘you’ll wake her up’?” you ask, even as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

Erwin lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes bright with mischief — and love. Always so much love.

“You’ll just have to be quiet, sweetheart… Think you can manage that?”

#attack on titan #aot #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #tw alcohol #tw teacher/student #tw age difference #tw pregnancy

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