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buckyalpine · 8 months

Note

Hello and hope you are doing well!! I was wondering if you could do smut story where the reader get more than she bargained for when telling Bucky that his dark side could do a better job at certain things. Also your stories are amazing ❤️🖤

Bucky gives you what you ask

YESSS. Thank you bb, Im so sorry this took forever and I hope you see this, I loved this so much. And as always I got so lost in it. Good God. He is dirty, dirty here.

You loved the way Bucky loved you. He was so soft, gentle, took care of all your needs without leaving behind a single mark on your delicate skin. Bucky was nothing more than a soft sweet thing, slowly getting back into his boyish 40's charm, a gentleman at all times. If you didn't know about his past, you would've never guessed he'd have another side to him.

But you'd seen the shift in his demeanor whenever he'd train in the gym and even more so when he was out on the field. The way his eyes would narrow with laser like focus when hitting his targets, the way he wouldn't flinch when putting a bullet between their eyes. His face would be expressionless when his metal arm would wrap around their throat, slowly draining life out of them, parts of the Winter Soldier still running deep in his veins.

And how badly you craved to have that side of him take you apart.

"What is it sweets" Bucky watched you fidget with the buckles of his tac suit, helping him undress after he'd just returned after a mission. There was something about him in his all black straps, leather and weapons that made your knees weak. It didn't help that his beard had started to fill out, the ends of his hair starting to curl at the nape of his neck. "You okay?"

You adore how attentive he is even when he's exhausted after weeks away from home but you wished just for once, he'd choke you with his metal arm instead of just hugging you with it.

"I want-" You paused for a second before continuing, "I want more"

"More of what doll" Bucky's wide puppy eyes were filled with worry; he made sure to always pay attention to your needs and he'd do anything to make you happy. "Tell me, you know I'd do anything"

"Just- take more control, be more rough with me" You weren't sure how you wanted to explain yourself but your body knew exactly what it needed, growing hotter by the second the longer he stood there in his tac suit before you. He let out a soft chuckle when he realized what you meant, laying down his knifes off to the side on the dressed.

"I had you moaning my name before I left doll" Bucky playfully rolled his eyes while you huffed, your sexual frustration only growing more when he tossed off his Kevlar leaving him in his tight black tshirt.

"Well the Winter Solider would have me screaming" You shrug, not noticing the way Bucky froze, now staring at you without blinking. "I think that side of you would do a better job at certain things, Buck"

"You don't want to see that side of me sweets" Bucky tried to keep his voice neutral, ignoring the way his cock was already throbbing in his pants, straining painfully against the thick fabric.

"But what if I do?" you challenged back, taking a step back when he moved forward, slowly backing you against the wall of your shared bedroom.

"Doll..." He warned, squeezing his eyes shut trying to collect himself, his fingers twitching at his sides. "That's not a good idea"

"Why not, think the Winter Soldier wouldn't be able to make me feel as good?" You added a taunt to your voice, hoping to rile him up, his chest now nearly pressing against yours, caging you against the wall.

"Is that so" Bucky tested the water slowly, still wanting to give you an out if you needed one because he wasn't going to be able to hold back once he started. You nodded, heart hammering against your chest as he took in a deep breath, his jaw clenched.

"As you wish sweets" He whispered by your ear, the tip of his cool metal knife suddenly pressing against your throat. Your eyes grew wide at the fact that he'd slipped it into his hand so swiftly, you hadn't noticed. "If you want me to stop, say Brooklyn, understand?"

"Yes" You squeaked, while he dragged it till it rested under your chin, tilting your head up to look meet his darkened eyes. Without a word, he sliced down your blouse, ripping away at the material that caught in the middle. He didn't give you a chance to speak, his hands grabbing the edges of your bra, splitting it into two before tearing your leggings into pieces next.

You were complete naked within seconds, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze, still fully dressed himself. Bucky had seen you naked countless times, in fact you'd change in front of him without a care in the world, always giggling at the cute blush he'd have on his cheeks.

But this wasn't the same.

Not even the slightest.

He tossed you over his shoulder and threw you on the bed letting you bounce off the mattress while he stood at the edge.

"Spread your legs"

It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

Bucky looked like he wanted to devour you. This was the same man that had his head between your legs more times than you could count but he was staring at you like he'd never seen you before. You shrunk back, squeezing your thighs together at the low growl he made, grasping your ankles and splitting them apart till you were completely exposed to him, your wet folds giving away how turned on you were. He fumbled with the button of his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down just enough to free his cock, his palm and fingers swiping up your pussy to gather you slick, slathering it over his erection.

"Such a pretty baby with such a pretty pussy"

You bit back a whine as he started to jerk his cock, circling the tip with his thumb, spreading his own arousal around. He took a step back to admire you, his eyes shamelessly raking up and down till he was satisfied with his fill. He moved to lay on top of you, his nose trailing along the column of your neck, inhaling your soft scent. There was something so feral about him, you stayed frozen in place while his hands found their way to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh.

"I'll show you exactly what you've been missing out on" He nipping your earlobe before crawling off you again to throw off the rest of his clothes. "God, I've wanted this for so long"

There was no prep, no foreplay, no soft kisses and sweet words. Bucky grabbed your hips, manhandling you till your face was pressed against the mattress, his swollen cockhead prodding at your fluttering pussy. He let out a dark chuckle, swiping his cock up and down through your folds, pressing his tip against your clit.

"Bucky, fuck me" You were desperate to feel him inside you, wiggling your hips as best as you could to get him to push it in you but you were instead met with a harsh slap to your ass, the cool metal making your skin sting.

"Impatient little slut" He shook his head, taking both your wrists and twisting them behind your back, He held them in one hand while the other snaked up tp grab your hair, tugging it tight from the roots. "Beg. Beg me to fuck you"

"P-Please Bucky, want it!"

"You want who to fuck you princess, say it, tell me exactly whose cock you want to ruin you"

"Yours soldat, please, want you, please fuck me solda-FUCKK" Bucky slammed his cock into you without warning, setting in a brutal pace that had you gasping for air. His balls smacked you with each thrust, the grip he had on your wrists and hair tightening for better leverage.

"I fuck needed this" His head was thrown back, his thighs meeting the back of yours as he fucked you harder than ever before, the squelching of your pussy making a sticky, dirty mess all over him. "You have no. Fucking. Idea. how fucking hard is it every time I fuck you"

His words were punctuated with harsh thrusts, growling at the way you'd already started to flutter around him as he hit your cervix. Your jaw was slack from surprise and pleasure, pathetic moans and whimpers replacing your words.

"Do you? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to hold back kotenok? How hard is it for me to not fuck your brains out when I'm deep in such a tight pussy? How badly I want to rail you, YA tak dolgo khotel tebya trakhnut" [I wanted to fuck you so hard for so long]

You'd never hard Bucky speak Russian, not once but his filthy mouth didn't stop as he continued to rail you, foreign curses dripping from his mouth.

"You think I'm such a gentleman don't you, huh? You remember the first time we had sex princess? how I made love to you? How slow it was, how you moaned when I put my cock in you for the first time?"

"Y-yes" Your body was slack against the bed, only held up because Bucky was gripping onto you with a bruising hold.

"I made love to you that night, didn't I. But I like to fuck baby, especially you, I've wanted to fuck this pussy for so long, ruin it all just for me"

You were suddenly flipped over again, whining when you felt empty, only to be filled right back up again seconds later when Bucky laid on his back, pulling you to straddle on top of him. He planted his feet against the mattress, not giving you a chance to move, fucking up into you, the angle of his hips rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Oh-oh f-fuckk" tears streamed down your face as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers before wrapping his hand around your throat. He muffled your sobs, slipping his thumb between your lips, shoving it down your mouth till you drooled.

"You look so pretty when you cry kotenok, is it too much?" He taunted, squeezing your throat tighter, "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at my arm princess, I always knew you were a needy little slut deep down You wanted this though, hm? Wanted my fat cock to ruin you till you wouldn't be able to walk?"

"I-oh god-fe-els good I-gonna cummm" You could barely formulate sentence, practically squealing when Bucky rolled over once again, this time tossing your legs over his shoulders, his hand snaking down to rub your swollen clit.

"Gonna cum, are you princess? Who do you belong to, say it, who fucks you this good?!"

"Y-You Bu-"

A harsh slap to your cheek made your pussy clench, Bucky's blue eyes dilated to rings, a feral expression his face as he smacked your face once more making you sob out of pleasure again.

"That's not whose fucking right now you is it?! Tell me, say it"

"YOU SOLDAT" You wailed as he continued to thrust into your puffy, overstimulated pussy, getting his teeth, grabbing onto the headboard as it slammed against the wall.

"That's right kotenok, you belong to him now" Bucky let his body weight fall onto you, bringing his knees up and pounding you deep against the bed, his own pace growing sloppy, balls pulling tighter towards his body. "Gonna give you all of his cum sweets, gonna fill this slutty desperate cunt with all of my cum, that's what you want isn't it? To be a little cum dump for the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky's mind went somewhere else, back to the first time he'd seen you, still as the Soldier, back when the team first discovered him. Back when his brain was fried but you had remined seared in his mind. Back when his mission was to finish you but some part deep down inside him wanted something else he didn't understand.

"God, where were you all those nights I had to touch myself alone, when I needed something warm and tight to cum in? huh? Bet you didn't know that huh princess? didn't know that the Soldier lusted after the pretty bunny that tried to take him down?"

Your eyes grew wide at his confession, pleasure desperate to snap within seconds.

"Did you know the winter soldier wanted to fuck you bunny? Did you know he'd jerk off when no one was watching? Had no idea what was going on Bunny, just remember my cock aching so bad, leaking so damn much. Nothing made it better until I touched myself. Didn't even know what I was doing, just fucked my fist while I thought about how pretty you looked in that tac suit, came all over my sheets like a little boy"

"I-fuck-Can-can I cum soldat?" You clung onto him, whimpering at the way you had to desperately hold back from gushing all over the sheets, his words too much, you couldn't take it any more.

"Go a head and cum princess, takoy khoroshiy kotonok" [such a good little kitten] He nipped up your neck, rubbing your clit faster, moaning with you as you started to cum around his cock. His movements didn't stop, fucking you through your high till your body jolted under him, the smell of sex heavy in the room.

"S-S'too much" You hiccupped while Bucky continued to fuck you like a man with no morals.

"Too much? It's too much for you kitten? Don't worry, gonna fill you up so good baby, where, where do you want to soldat to cum?!"

"Inside!" You cried out, locking your ankles around his waist, your slurred sob turned into a guttural moan when he pinched your clit between his fingers.

"Here it comes kotenok, got so much cum for you, it's gonna drip baby, get ready, here it comes, here it fuckin' comes- OH FUUCCKKK" Bucky roared against your neck before stilling, his cock throbbing and twitching, hot seeding feeling you up till it leaked. You were practically floating, too fucked out to realize He'd gently gotten off you and cradled you close.

"Are you okay pretty girl?" Bucky cooed, snapping back into the sweetheart that he was, the switch over leaving you reeling with your eyes still crossed. "My poor baby"

Bucky chuckled at your dazed expression, cuddling you up to his chest, caressing your sweat slicked skin.

"Come back to me princess" He pulled the covers up to warm you up in his arms, resting you carefully against the pillows. "My good girl, you did so good for me angel, m'so proud of you, so good"

You whimpered in response, curling up against him, your body still jolting and pulsing.

"Was it too much angel?" His brows furrowed with concern, cupping your cheek to look at him. He kissed away the now dry tear tracks that stained your face, his thumb swiping over your hot skin.

"Never" You rasped out, your voice raw from screaming, "Was perfect Soldat"

"You're perfect angel" Bucky grinned, stroking your spine while you continued to snuggle into him, his cock already twitching at the thought of another round. "My perfect little kotenok"

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [7] - On Edge

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: New enemies can complicate everything.

Word Count: 3200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You had to admit; your therapist had many good ideas but this?

You weren't so sure this was one of those good ideas.

You pulled the souffle out of the oven and took a look at it, then grabbed a toothpick and put it through the center, only to pull it out completely dry.

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, putting it next to the other five failed attempts, and grabbed the bowl again. “This fucking…”

“What are you doing?”

Your head shot up and you looked over your shoulder. “What the—go away, why are you here?”

Bucky raised his brows.

“Hello to you too Charm,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets, his eyes darting around the kitchen. Even you had to admit that the sight of you in the kitchen was unfamiliar, considering that you barely knew how to make eggs but seeing him in your kitchen was equally strange. Your chef would normally be in the kitchen at this time but you were pretty sure he wasn’t here to see her.

“Who told you I was here?”

“The maid,” he said and motioned at the bowl you were holding. “What is this?”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

You heaved a sigh and put the bowl back on the counter, then crossed your arms.

“I’m baking,” you said as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with that statement, and Bucky frowned slightly.

“Why?” he asked. “What is this, your plan to play house with your civilian boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“My therapist seems to think it’s a good idea,” you said. “She says I should do things like these to relax my mind.”

“Right, you sounded very relaxed when I walked in.”

“It’s because these fucking souffles refuse to have chocolatey center!” you snapped and Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“You’ve never baked once in your life and you decided to start with one of the hardest things to bake in the world?”

“Go big or go home.”

“I’m right with you on that but when it comes to baking, people usually start with cookies.”

“I already baked cookies, they weren’t challenging enough,” you said, motioning at the plate on the kitchen island and he walked to it to get a cookie.

“Did you poison these?”

“Yeah,” you said and he shrugged, then took a bite of it, a look of surprise crossing his face as he chewed on it.

“This is actually good,” he said. “Is this cinnamon?”

“It’s arsenic,” you deadpanned and he nodded his head.

“You know, if you ever decide to go into it professionally, we can get you a bakery.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious, we’d put it in the neutral territory if it makes you feel any better, it could work—”

“Why are you here?” you cut him off and he popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth, then leaned back to the island.

“I’ve been summoned,” he said. “So has everyone else.”

Your eyes widened. “Everyone else? What do you mean, everyone else?”

“All the bosses in the city.”

“What the—why?” you asked, lowering your voice and he shot you a smirk.

“How long have you been here?”

“Bucky!” you hissed and he grabbed another cookie.

“There’s been an attack.”

“An attack?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat. “From a family?”

“Not from a family,” he answered. “An outsider, or so it seems.”

“What outsider?” you asked and he chewed on his bite.

“No seriously, if I paid you, would you make more of these for me?”

You smacked his arm and snatched the cookie out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“What outsider?”

“It happened in Stark’s territory,” he said, eyeing the cookie. “He knows more than I do, he and your father had a talk I heard but we will all be informed in the meeting.”

You arched a brow. “And?”

“I swear to you, that’s all I know. Can I get it back now?”

You heaved a sigh and handed him the cookie, making him shoot you a happy smile.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think they’re the same people who were involved in the shootout?”

Bucky clenched his jaw, then cleared his throat.

“Who knows?” he said. “So did you think about my proposal?”

You threw your head back in frustration, then jumped to sit on the island, crossing your legs.

“I did,” you said, leaning slightly back, resting your palms on the island and pretending to be in deep thought. “And you know what, it kind of makes sense to use a marriage for my benefit and rise to power.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was holding his breath, a hopeful light glimmering in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah so, Steve or Sam?” you asked airily and he frowned.

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean Romanoff is with Banner, Barton is married, so is Stark…”

A groan left his lips. “Charm…”

“So that leaves us Steve or Sam.”

“They’re my best friends.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I know that. So what?”

“They would never.”

“Why not?” you asked. “Because you called dibs on me or something?”

He averted his gaze from you and you sat up straighter, pulling your brows together.

“Bucky,” you growled. “You have exactly three seconds to tell me you didn’t call dibs on me as if I’m a cookie because we’re standing in a kitchen full of knives—”

“I didn’t!” he said. “They just…they won’t, okay?”

“Well then that plan is not going to work because I’d never marry you—” you started but heard a knock by the door, making you turn your head to look at Steve.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Bucky was just leaving.”

Steve glanced around the kitchen with his brows raised. “Since when do you bake?”

“It’s very good for mental health!” your defensive answer came almost too fast and he held up his hands.

“Alright then.”

“It does calm you down,” Bucky said solemnly and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m going to take your cookie back.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Steve eyed the cookies. “Can I have one too?”

“See? He asks for permission,” you told Bucky. “Perfect marriage material there.”

“Excuse me, what?” Steve asked, gawking at you before Bucky grabbed a cookie from the plate and tossed it to Steve who caught it mid-air, then he turned to you.

“You know where to find me.”

“Yeah, between some woman’s legs,” you retorted, making him roll his eyes as Steve chuckled.

“I’ll see you around Charm,” he said and walked out of the kitchen with Steve following him. You nibbled on your lip, then grabbed a cookie and laid down on the island, keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“So relaxed,” you murmured as you bit into the cookie. "I'm so very relaxed."

That meeting took hours to be finished and even though you wanted to stick around in the house, you still had plans with Ethan for lunch. You were at the end of your wits from curiosity so by the time Ethan got there, you were still glued to your phone, waiting for a text from Becca.

“Hey,” he said, pressing a kiss on your cheek and you smiled up at him.

“Hey,” you said and took out the small container out of your handbag to put it in front of him, making him tilt his head.

“What is this?”

“Cookies,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “I made them today.”

Ethan stared at you. “You made cookies?”

“Why does everyone sound so shocked about it?” you asked back and Ethan chuckled.

“Y/N, while we were dating, you tried to make toast in the microwave.”

“It’s not my fault if microwaves aren’t that advanced yet,” you told him and he chuckled.

“Of course,” he played along, opening the container to take out a cookie. “What brought on this sudden interest in baking?”

“My psychiatrist,” you said as he took a careful bite and his eyes widened.

“You made this?”

You gasped in a dramatic manner and pushed at his boot with your heel. “I take your disbelief as a compliment.”

“You should, it’s amazing!” he said. “So your psychiatrist told you to bake cookies?”

“Well not just bake but more like…you know, relaxing stuff,” you said. “I started with baking because it sounded more interesting than the other options. And more delicious as well.”

“I think you unlocked a talent there,” he said and you hummed.

“Eh, maybe. My souffles disagree.”

“You made souffles?”

“I started for souffles but now I have muffins,” you said. “You know, not much of a difference there.”

“Muffins are better than souffles anyway,” he told you, grabbing another cookie as the waiter brought his coffee. “Thank you.”

“So I was going to ask you,” you said, turning your phone in your hand. “Where is your apartment exactly?”

“Between 33rd and 34th street right across from the bank, downstairs there’s a cute—”

“Drawing supplies store,” you finished his sentence for him and he blinked a couple of times.

“Do you have a map in your mind or something?”

“My father made me basically memorize the whole city so yeah,” you said and heaved a sigh. “Great. Stark’s territory.”

He pulled his brows together. “Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily,” you said, running a hand over your face. “So hypothetically speaking—”

“Jesus, we’re back to that?” he teased you and you shook your head slightly.

“No I’m serious,” you said. “Hypothetically speaking, it wouldn’t be a good idea to wander around there late in the evening nowadays.”

His frown deepened.

“Is this related to that attack there earlier today?”

Your eyes shot up to his. “You were there?”

“No no, not very close at least,” he said. “It’s just—there was terrible traffic and I heard the police cards and the ambulance, and people were saying there was an attack.”

“At who? Or what?”

“I really don’t know,” he said, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t really think much of it. So is this related?”

You pursed your lips together and shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not sure but as my dad says, you can never be too careful,” you said. “Alright, here’s the thing. I’ll hire someone to keep an eye around your apartment just in case—”

“Wait, what?”

“Just as a precaution.”

“Y/N, I’m a civilian,” he said with a small laugh. “You said civilians don’t get involved—”

“They don’t, it’s a just precaution,” you repeated, taking another sip of your coffee. “I’m sure nothing is going to happen, but it’s good to be careful.”

He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

“I’m not gonna have a bodyguard following my every move, right?”

“No they do that with me, not you,” you said, a smile curling your lips. “I assure you, you won’t even notice they’re around.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Not really, I don’t hire amateurs.”

A small chuckle climbed up his throat and he shook his head.

“This is insane.”

“You wanted excitement,” you pointed out. “I’m just making sure that excitement doesn’t turn into actual danger, that’s all.”

He popped another cookie in his mouth. “Did you bring me these so that I would feel more relaxed?”

You shot him a mischievous grin. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“I feel better about it than I would have with zero cookies,” he joked, coaxing out a giggle from you. “So wait, you wanted to let me know first?”

“Yeah because I don’t want to be the psycho ex who puts people in your tail in secret.”

“No, just the ex who has the ability to pull something like that and bake cookies at the same time.”

“I’m nothing if not versatile,” you stated, making him laugh.

“Oh trust me,” he said. “I’m well aware of that.”

You mirrored his smile and held his gaze, biting at your lip before sitting up straighter.

“So,” you said. “Enough about me. How’s everything at the office?”

When you got back home, the meeting was mostly over but apparently Bucky and Sam had stayed for a short talk with your father. Even Ian was sent out of the room which gave you a strange satisfaction but it didn’t last very long when you saw him smirking while talking on the phone in the living room. You stepped inside and flung yourself on the couch, crossing your arms while waiting for him to finish.

“Yeah no, because I said—that’s what I’m saying, just be prepared for anything, we don’t know whose territory it might be next. If it’s ours…”

You checked your nails, humming a song just so that you could get on his nerves and Ian stole a look at you.

“I’ll call you later,” he said and hung up, then put his phone into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Y/N.”

“Ian,” you said. “They kicked you out while the real bosses speak then?”

“I had to step outside to make some calls,” he said and you hummed.

“Before or after they kicked you out?”

“Better than not being invited in at all,” he stated, making your jaw clench. “I half expected to see you eavesdropping in the hallway, you surprised me.”

You clicked your tongue, then shot him a fake smile.

“Do they ask you to bring them coffee?” you asked. “While they talk? Like an assistant.”

“I know you find this hard to accept, but I hold a very important part in those meetings,” he said. “Seeing that I’m the heir.”

“Are you though?” you asked. “Father didn’t officially announce you.”

“And he certainly won’t announce you,” he said and you crossed your legs, trying to seem calm and collected.

“So what is going to happen if our territory is next?” you asked him airily and he sat down on the couch across from yours.

“We are going to retaliate.”

“And you hope our territory is next,” you stated and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Not at all but if it is, we will handle it.”

“And the rest of the city?” you asked. “The other territories?”

He rolled his eyes. “You might want to check your priorities there, Y/N.”

“Do you seriously think our territory can just survive on its own?” you asked back. “Do you think if it somehow leads to a war, if any of the other territories get affected, we will still be fine? That will affect the truce and if the peace—”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” Ian cut you off. “The exact reason why uncle chose me as his heir over you. I don’t care much for peace.”

You stared at him, your heart beating in your ears because of the fury spreading through you over his words but before you could say anything, you heard Bucky’s voice in the foyer. You shot up from the couch, rushed to the foyer to see Bucky and Sam, your heels echoing on the marble floor.

“Hi Sam, nice to see you,” you said without even stopping, and grabbed Bucky’s arm to drag him towards the spiral stairs. “You’re coming with me.”

“What, it’s not good to see me?” Bucky asked but followed you without so much as an argument. You made your way through the hallway after you reached the top of the stairs, then pushed him into your room and slammed the door behind you.

“Charm if you wanted me in your bedroom, all you had to do was ask—”

“Keep dreaming,” you snapped at him and he shot you a mischievous grin.

“Hi.”

“What did you all talk about?”

He looked around the room as if trying to take it in as much as he could, and you followed his gaze as it fell on the fireplace and to your reading corner by the window, then to the antique mirror and your vanity before he approached your bed to sit down on it.

“Lovely room,” he commented and you crossed your arms.

“Tell me.”

“This relationship is starting to feel very one-sided—”

“That’s because it is,” you cut him off. “What is going on?”

He heaved a sigh and ran his vibranium hand through his hair.

“Well, at least now we have a name,” he said. “One of the men Stark captured, he said something.”

You arched a brow. “What did he say?”

“Hydra.”

You pulled your brows together, deep in thought.

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” you said. “What, are they new or something?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh and shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said. “We’re still gathering more information about them but they’re not new, that’s for sure.”

You clicked your tongue.

“And let me guess,” you said. “They’re not just a couple of people?”

Bucky shook his head again and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a breath as you opened them.

“Fuck.”

Bucky shot you a dry smile. “My reaction exactly.”

“But either way, if all families are working together against them,” you thought out loud. “It means—where did they attack in Stark’s territory, by the way? One of his places?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“A café.”

“Stark doesn’t own a café.”

“No he doesn’t.”

Your stomach did a painful flip as you stared at him.

“Civilians?” you asked, your voice hoarse. “They’re attacking civilians?”

“They’re attacking everyone including civilians,” Bucky answered and you pursed your lips together.

“So no code then,” you murmured. “They’ll create chaos and…”

“We will stop them before they do that,” Bucky assured you as he stood up from the bed. “But Charm, listen to me. From now on, nowhere in the city is one hundred percent safe, no matter whose territory it is. That whole bullshit you keep pulling with no bodyguards—”

“I don’t have a death wish,” you cut him off. “I know how dangerous it can get in a situation like this. I grew up with the same stories as you, remember?”

Bucky’s phone started vibrating and he checked the caller ID, then put it back in his pocket again.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“To repeat, I—”

“Charm,” he interrupted you as if he didn’t have the time for nonsense, his tone completely serious. “Promise me. Please.”

You frowned slightly, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah sure,” you said and he nodded to himself, then walked to the door but stop when he heard you say his name.

“Bucky?”

He turned to you. “Yeah?”

“This whole thing, it won’t lead to the truce breaking, will it?” you asked, desperately trying to convince yourself. “Between the families?”

Bucky shot you an almost reprimanding look like he could see right through you.

“I’ll lie to you if you want me to but we did grow up with the same stories Charm,” he reminded you. “It will lead to something, and you know it as well as I do.”

With that, he walked out of your room and you sat down on the armchair across from the fireplace with a sigh, your heart slamming against your ribcage. You gritted your teeth together and leaned your head back, then pressed your palms on your eyes.

“Oh,” you said. “God damn it.”

Chapter 8

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au

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sweetenerobert · 17 days

Text

begin again

1.3k | joel miller x plus size gender neutral reader

summary: you haven’t gone out on a date ever since you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend — a year ago, a new opportunity rises when you meet joel miller.

warnings: toxic relationship (guiltrip, body shaming, gaslighting), self-conscious reader, awkward!joel, mention of an age gap (it's your choice, but reader is of age) teeth rotting fluff, first date in a cafe

a/n: doing this for @beskarandblasters for their Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge ;), i’m happy to participate!, if you would like to participate, read this post

a/n 2: as a plus size author myself, i wanted to try something different (keep out for more plus size reader in the mere future, but i still write male reader with no descriptions to let your imaginations go wild <333.

I loved how CUUUUUTE this idea is, i might write a longer version of this ;p also reminder, i went overboard with the word count :0

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You’re seriously gonna wear that?” Trevor said.

Glancing down at your stomach and then back at your boyfriend, you were confused about what Trevor meant. “What do you mean?” Shrugging your shoulders.

“That,” Trevor pointed at you, and you were still baffled at what he was pointing at. “Your hoodie.”

Your eyes trailing back down to your comfort hoodie. You’ve had it ever since the start of your senior year of high school into now being a twenty-one-year-old college student. It had some tiny holes, but you didn't care; you loved the material, the color, and how it made you feel comfortable.

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged.

Trevor sat up from lying on his bed and walked towards you, a look of disgust on his face. But you couldn’t tell what that look on his face was. He was always good at hiding it.

“Babe, you know I love that hoodie,” Trevor started blatantly lying to your face. “But I want you to make a good impression on my friends, so do you think you could wear something different?”

That indescribable feeling in your stomach rose to your throat, feeling as if someone were choking you. The stale taste of bile stayed in your throat as your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults. You disregarded it to be nerves about meeting Trevor’s friends.

In the back of your brain, you knew that meeting them would’ve been a piece of cake if the front of your brain made you constantly nervous. Trevor knew they liked you, but he made you think they didn't. To make you feel small.

“But I have nothing else to wear that makes me comfortable.”

Trevor holds both his pointer fingers to signal you to wait with a smirk on his face, walking towards his closet quickly. Pulling out a trendy denim jacket he owned, you liked it, but it wasn't your style — or size.

“This,” Trevor smiled.

“But, it doesn't fit. I can barely get one button to close, and it's going to be cold tonight,” You complained.

Trevor groaned where chills ran down your spine; it made you not want to say another word. “C’mon baby, we don't want to be late, just put on the fucking jacket so we can hurry up.”

The attitude sent your way wasn't new, but you always felt like it was your fault, and this felt like your fault. He was trying to make you feel good; who’s to say he’s wrong?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay; I didn't mean to get loud.”

That same meaningless apology you’ve heard before that always managed to calm you down. You zip down your hoodie, throwing it on Trevor’s bed, landing on the end of the bed frame, the hood between the mattress and the wooden frame. Taking the jacket and slipping your arms into it made you feel uncomfortable with how tight the denim felt against your back. You felt your shirt picked up — exposing your skin and making goosebumps occupy that area.

Looking at the mirror, you hated what you saw, but the smile on Trevor’s made you feel slightly better.

“I hate this,” You frowned.

“You look great,” Trever emphasized, draping his arm around your neck enthusiastically, which made you feel better. Right?

“Well, you finally look like you actually like my friends.”

“But, I’ve always liked your—”

“Okay, let's get going, baby.” Trevor kissed your cheek and left you alone in his room. The mirror catches your vulnerability in ways you couldn't see, and it makes you feel uneasy; it was bothering you that you couldn't figure out that word.

Disgust.

Disgust was the word that Trevor made you feel.

Judging you, making you feel like you're losing your mind, making you feel like you weren't enough. Disgust.

You were quickly slapping your face to erase any trace of Trevor. You stood outside the coffee shop where you agreed to meet up with the guy you matched up with on Bumble, Joel Miller.

It had been six months before you had gone back on dating apps, grieving the loss of your relationship in the past. Joel was one of the first few people you matched with. He was older, but he could hold down a conversation, making you feel like you could talk to him for hours. He was okay with meeting up with you, but he wanted to ensure you were comfortable with the timing; he was okay with waiting.

It had been five months until you agreed to see him; nervous to the brim, you didn't know what to wear; spending countless minutes in your underwear, you quickly put together an outfit and grabbed a hoodie.

When you first walked in and Joel noticed you, his smile beamed at you, making butterflies appear in your stomach. He had wired headphones in his ear as he stood up quickly, shoving them in his jacket. Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, he made you feel protected in his arms; he smelt of old spice and mint, and in your mind, it was adorable that you chuckled in your head.

As Joel backed up from the hug, he smiled at you again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smiled back. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Uh, no. Not really, just listenin’ to the playlist you made me.”

“Oh god,” you buried your head in your hand. “You still listen to that?”

“Of course, it's the thing that helps me get out of bed.”

You chuckle and can't help but smile from ear to ear as Joel smiles at you lovingly. “Well, if you ever get bored with that one, I would gladly make you another one.”

Joel chuckles through his smile; he quickly rubs the back of his neck, looking back towards his seat. “Uh, do you wanna sit down?”

“I would love that.”

Joel directs you to your seat; you cannot help but feel heat rise to your face; as you sit in your chair, Joel sits in front of you. As you wiped your hands on your hoodie, you looked up at Joel; you noticed him resting his head on his fist, looking at you. That feeling of Joel critiquing little things about you rose back to when Trevor would do it.

“Trevor isn’t here; you're fine,” You thought.

“Is there something on my face?” Your quick to cover your mouth with your hand.

Joel shakes his head and smiles at you. “Just admirin’ you, you're s’ perfect.”

The heat in your face was reaching a dangerous level, where you could feel your face explode. “Stop, you're pulling my tail.”

“I’m serious, your amazin’.”

You can't help but look down at the table in despair as you rarely received compliments from Trevor; it's hard to believe what Joel was saying to be the truth. “M’sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You shake your head. Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on the table. “It's just I’ve never received compliments, and it's only when my ex would make me forget how much of an ass he is.”

That padding of Joel’s palm rested against your knuckles; you look at your hands together, and you look at Joel’s welcoming smile. “I promise, whenever I compliment you, it's comin’ from the depths of my soul, sweetheart.”

The warmth of Joel’s hand made you feel comfortable, a feeling you craved with— nobody. You felt good in this moment. “Now, how about I get you a cup of coffee? I promise it's the best.”

You chuckle. “Come on, I had to meet you here; let me buy it.”

As Joel gets up, he slides his hands down in an ‘X’ motion. “Nope, as the gentleman my momma raised me, it’ll be my pleasure.”

“Okay, but the next time we go out on a date, I’m buying.”

“I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” Joel walks away, and you can't help but smile at him as he walks away.

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kangaracha · 3 months

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 10

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

The studio is silent when you enter, the door clicking softly shut behind you. Neither of its occupants stir, even though Chan had just called out for you to come in when you'd knocked; he's staring at his computer screen now, fingers hovering over a keyboard as he listens. Han is on the other side of the room, fast asleep on the sofa with him mouth hanging half-open.

A coffee cup sits in the ground next to him and his phone dangles from relaxed fingers, dangerously close to falling. You lean over and grab it just as it starts to slide from his grasp; Han doesn't stir, not even when your shadow falls over his face. You catch a glimpse of his phone screen before your thumb locks it, long lines of lyrics set out in a basic notes app, the top bar lined with notifications; you put it down hurriedly on the armrest of the sofa, not wanting to pry.

When you look up, Chan is watching you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hi," you say, turning your back on Han. Your hands are awkward after touching his phone - you fold them in front of you, one hand twisting at the fingers of the other.

"Hi," he replies softly, and smiles - something that's meant to be encouraging, you think, but this is so far out of your normal routine that you don't think there's anything that would let you just relax, rather than standing here awkwardly in the middle of the room with nothing else around to draw his attention.

"There's another chair over there," he says, pointing to the corner behind you. "Come and listen to this."

A clear goal. An easy one to achieve too - the breath rushes from your chest as you drag the chair over to his desk, some of the tension in your limbs draining out with it. You sigh again as you sit down, this time as your tired body presses back into the seat and finally finds relief - you've been engrossed in practise all day, sliding right past lunch and nearly dinner too, barely stopping for a break. Not that you'd meant to, you knew better than that, but when you'd felt like you were actually getting somewhere-

"You look tired," Chan comments as he hands you a set of headphones, one hand idly untangling the wire as it stretches out to you. His voice is decidedly neutral, his tongue lazy as it lets the English syllables slide past one by one. He talks to you in English almost all the time recently, you've noticed; ever since the album released, or maybe a little before. Not that you mind. English is...comfortable, in a way that Korean sometimes isn't. It's always been easier for you to be Australian.

"Practise was good today, though," you reply. "I feel like I might actually be able to dance in the group without sticking out now."

"You've been doing that for a while," Chan says, bemused. "Lee Know didn't have anything to say at all the other day."

You can't help the derisive snort that escapes your mouth, swallowing the acerbic laugh that tries to follow it before you can make even more of a fool of yourself. It's so rude; maybe you are tired. You certainly aren't as careful as you usually are, even though you know that can preclude trouble. "I don't think he's being as hard now that I'm not debuting in two weeks," you blurt out, and then drop your eyes down to the headphones in your hands.

"That doesn't mean he's lying," Chan insists. His hand pats your knee - just a brush of his fingers, there and there and gone again. "You don't really need all this practise anymore, you know."

A shrug works its way up to your shoulders, though it feels more like a defensive hunch than anything else. "I'd rather practise than waste my time sitting around," you answer, and at least the words are strong, even if your body is not. "Especially when there's still a chance I could end up sitting around in Australia by the end of the year."

Something flashes across Chan's face, twisting at the edges of his mouth for just a moment before disappearing - disappointment, or frustration? It twists at your gut twice as hard, whatever it is, upsetting the delicate balance you'd found for just a moment while sitting here. "Do you want to listen to this song?" he asks, changing the subject before you can say anything to defend yourself. "We recorded it roughly, but I need a real version of it, and I think you'll like it..."

His voice trails off as he turns to the computer, pulling up whatever he's been working on. You take that as a sign to pull the headphones over your ears, offsetting one side slightly so that you can still hear him. Music fills your ears - a slow, roundabout beat and a heavy bass, overstrung by lyrics about bravery and fear and the darkness of being alone. Beautiful, in a way you're not sure how to express, and artistic, winding its way into your chest where you won't easily forget it.

You really like this song, so much that you're almost afraid to admit it; because if you did, you'd have to admit too, how its spiralling beat brushes against that dark spiral of anxiety that always lives in your chest, and the cold memories that the words stir up-

"I like that," is all you say when the music ends, one final downbeat cutting through the instruments abruptly.

"Really?" Chan asks, like it's unexpected, or unbelieveable.

"Of course," you insist, headphones sliding down around your neck. "You really want me to sing that?"

"Well, if you're going to spend all of your time working anyway, you might as well do some of our work for us," he says, the tone of his voice and the way his head tilts to point at Han's sleeping form informing you that he is joking. "Listen to it a couple more times, I'll see if Han has the lyrics written down on his phone, and then we'll try it."

"Why wouldn't you be able to sleep?"

Chan's voice startles you, loud after a long period of silence. You hadn't even seen him turn to look at you, or even stop working to check the messages that are popping up in the group chat, his phone propped loosely between his hand and the table. "What?" you ask, one hand coming up to stifle a yawn as it tugs at your jaw.

Chan glances down at his phone screen as another message pops up, and then back at you. "Earlier, you said you wouldn't be able to sleep if you went home," he says, by way of explanation.

"Oh, right." You'd forgotten about that text. You hadn't really thought about it being something that might raise questions at the time; you'd been more focused on the sudden worry you'd had over him assuming that you were regularly here all day and all night. "My house is just too quiet sometimes, I guess. I'm not really used to living alone."

His head tilts, curiousity flaring in his eyes. "You know, I've never actually asked where you live," he says. "Are you still in the dorms?"

"They gave me an apartment," you answer. "I think we're in the same building, actually. That's what they told me, anyway."

"Really?" His eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. "And you've never come over for dinner? Changbin hasn't dragged you to the gym? No one's run into you in the hall?"

"Lee Know sat in my living room for like ten minutes once?" you offer weakly, though you know it's not nearly what he's looking for. You've got nothing to offer him - even Minseo hasn't been over in a few weeks, each of you too busy on your own trajectory to cross paths. You'd had lunch in the cafeteria twice, and that was all, far from the silent walls of your empty house and it's too-big rooms.

A smile ghosts across Chan's face, strangled by the constant turn of his thoughts back to the problem he thinks he has identified. "On his way back from the store?" he questions knowingly, and you nod.

"He said no one was home at your place."

"If he went into our house, why did he-" he starts, and then cuts himself off halfway, shaking his head. "You should come over for dinner or something. Watch one of Han's animes. If I'd known you were in the building, I would have invited you ages ago."

Apprehension rises in your chest at the openness of the invitation, the way he's able to simply pick it up and throw it out there without even a moment of hesitation. Not that you should feel dread over something as simple as an invitation to dinner, with a group of people you now see every day anyway...but you've never really seen them outside the studio, and you wouldn't know what to expect even if you sat here and tried to guess.

And even this, sitting here in the dark talking to Chan, is something you've never done before, the reason why you'd sat here so quiet when you'd first come in; if your body wasn't so tired, if the night wasn't dragging on into morning as you spoke, you don't think you'd have been able to sit so still in this chair at all.

"Maybe," you say, acknowledging the invitation with a dip of your chin. "When there's time. I'm really busy practising for debut right now, and I don't want to miss anything."

You're surprised by the look that passes over his face, the tightening of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. "You spend a lot of time in that studio," he says - and you're not sure what to think about the tone of voice that he uses, switching back and forth between stern and...soft, like he's worried he'll say the wrong thing or something. As if he could do something wrong here, when he is the leader and you are-

Well, nothing. You're nothing. God knows what he sees when he looks at you, other than the trainee he was unwillingly saddled with.

"Yeah," you acknowledge, because there's no use in denying it when you know they know the kind of hours you've been pulling. There being eight of them just means it's impossible to avoid running into one of them at every strange hour of the day. "If these are the last three months I have here, I don't want to waste any of it."

"You said that at the concert," Chan recalls. "You still feel like you're not going to debut?"

The memory sits awkwardly in the air of the room; you shift in your seat, shrugging as lightly as you can pull down the movement of your shoulders, trying to play it off. "Do you still think I'm scared of you too?" you question, trying to play it off easily rather than having the words slide heavy from your tongue.

Amusement dances in his eyes. "Maybe not so much," he answers. "You made a joke earlier."

You frown. "Is that...weird? I make jokes all the time, don't I?"

"Not as often as I'd like," he says, and then his face softens. "It was nice, though. So is this - us, talking."

"Mm," you hum, your mouth closed around several sentences that spring immediately to mind. The instinct to measure everything you say and watch your mouth is burnt into you, caution wrapping its cold little hands around your throat every time you start to relax. And now you don't know what to say, when it feels too pointed to make a joke after he's just pointed it out, and too crass to pull out excuses for why this sort of one-on-one rarely happens - and then silence stretches too thin, and time ticks too far onwards, and you've missed-

"Can I tell you what I think?" Chan says and leans back, his arms reaching towards the ceiling as he stretches.

A breath hitches in your chest, apprehension freezing it still. "Okay," you say, your hands twisting together.

His gaze is steady when it returns to you, his hand still where it comes to lie flat on the surface of his desk. In the background, Han shifts in his sleep, the couch cushions shifting underneath him. "I think you're scared to be one of us," he says, every word carefully measured against some weight you cannot see. "And you're scared to trust us. Maybe just me, specifically."

Your heart leaps into your throat in surprise, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. "I'm not-" you begin, but his hand lifts in the air, stopping you short.

"I don't mean in a bad way," he hurries to add, before you can go on. "I understand why; I wouldn't trust anyone either after what happened to you with Midnight. And I've been there before, you know, so...so I know why, I promise. But...I wish you would let me help you. I really want to help you."

You swallow hard, but the lump in your throat remains, the tears threatening to gather in the corners of your stinging eyes. Your stomach feels like its been turned upside down, your equilibrium shaken and turned around. "I..." you begin, as if you have a response, but nothing follows it, your mind racing to catch up in a conversation you hadn't expected to have and didn't plan for. "I...this is my last chance. If I stop, if I..."

"Hey," Chan says. "I understand, okay? And I'm not going to kick you out, or yell at you, or whatever it is you think a leader does. I like having you around, it's too late for all of that now, okay?"

The joke is light, struggling to lift itself in the oppressive air of the studio, but it makes its way to you anyway, lifting a little of the weight off of your shoulders. "I really like your music," you tell him, and push a deep breath down into the bottom of your lungs. "I want to be one of you, really, and I don't - I don't think you would do that, I swear, I just...I know that it's not always up to you. The company can do what they like, and if they think I don't look like I fit in, or I'm not working as hard as you do, or they just don't like how-"

"You shouldn't worry about that," Chan says over the top of you, his face changing. "That's my job - you leave that to me, and focus on the things your working on."

You look down at your hands, then over at Han - anywhere but his gaze, when you say, "I can't trust them to listen to you. Not until I make it to debut."

Chan falls silent, long enough that your eyes stray back to him, unable to look away for any longer. You find a mess of emotions written across his face, lit by the illumination of his computer screen as he messes with the mouse, his attention far away from the track he's idly playing with.

"Okay," he says when he's done, forcing his hand to move away from the keyboard. "I meant to talk you out of burning yourself out, but I don't think that's going to work."

"Sorry," you say mutely, and feel your shoulders hunch.

"It's okay," he says, before you can retract into yourself completely. "It's okay to be scared. It is scary. So, let's come to an agreement."

There's an unintended challenge in his voice, a way that his eyes watch you that incentivises you to sit up straighter and swallow down all that cold anxiety that freezes in your veins. "Okay," you say willingly. "Like what?"

You like the silent approval you see in his face, the way his mouth relaxes and starts to untwist from the frown it had turned itself into several minutes ago. "You promise me that you know how to take care of yourself, and you can practise as much as you feel like you need to until debut and we won't stop you," he says, "but after debut, you promise you're going to slow down. And you're going to trust me."

It's funny - you hadn't thought anything but the result at the end of these three months would make you feel better, but somehow, he strings together the exact right words to lift that weight off your chest and shine a light down the tunnel. You hadn't thought anyone would be able to do that. Maybe that's why you'd been locked away in the dance rooms, all alone; maybe he was right that you didn't trust anyone, and that maybe you should start.

"I can do that," you say, nodding in agreement. "And I can take care of myself. I won't debut if I'm injured, or I collapse or something."

"Good," he says, satisfied, and then adds, "And you come over for dinner, whenever we invite you. And you go out with your friends again. One of the girls from Midnight chased me down the other day to ask about you, and honestly I'm kind of scared of ignoring her."

"Minseo," you say and, inexplicably, you smile. "Sorry. She's...an extrovert."

"Two jokes," Chan points out, and then laughs at the look on your face, turning away to shut down his computer. "It was fine. She was cool. You have good taste in friends."

"We've been here together for a long time," you say, your eyes idly tracking the movement of his mouse. You glance at the clock in the corner of his screen just by chance - and then do a double take when you see the number there, squinting as if you've misread it. "Is it four AM?"

"It is, actually," Chan sighs as the screen goes dark, closing the laptop and pushing his chair back towards the couch. "Time to go home, I think. Do you want to walk with us?"

His hand reaches out to rouse Han, the other reaching for the boy's phone, left abandoned on his desk. His coffee still sits abandoned on the ground, long gone cold since that first conversation in the group chat that had led to all of this. Funny, how that one little thing, left forgotten on the floor, had led to a night you wouldn't soon forget.

"I'd love to," you reply, and reach for the coffee before anyone can knock it over, throwing it in the trash.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @worcesheshestershiresauce @defnotfertilizedtoesw

207 notes · View notes

stinkysam · 6 months

Text

Levi Ackerman - You, who survived despite the odds.

Warning : end manga spoilers

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "levi and reader (male) have had feelings for years now but for the fear of one of them dying they never reached anything, not until they ended up living together after all the stuff they went through. reader takes care of levi and is usually very talkative but now he seems more closed off and clearly levi notices this but the reason is that reader is thinking of how to ask him to finally be his boyfriend. ૮꒰˵• ﻌ •˵꒱ა" - @vainillacookie

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

You had wanted to ask him out for a while now, but one thing had stopped you.

The fear of having to mourn him.

It was constant, a daily feeling you grew accustomed to over the years you got to know him.

Today though ? It was gone.

Things had changed, the titans were gone and a more peaceful and calmer time had settled itself into your lives.

So one thing rummaged through your mind : how to ask him out ?

You've been thinking about it for days. Keeping quiet to study better when was the best moment to make the move.

You were currently handing out candies to kids in a camp to cheer them up a bit. It was Levi's idea.

You say nothing as you smile at them, your fingers rhythmically tapping on his wheelchair.

"Spit it out." He finally said, looking at the kids running away with their candies.

"W- what ?" You look at him, surprised.

"You're awfully quiet, what is it ?"

"No, nothing. Nothing at all." You say with an awkward smile, trying to play it cool.

He turns his head to look at you then sighs as he looks away again. You glance at him, debating whether to do it now or not. You push his wheelchair again, walking to find another group of kids.

"I was thinking, uh… maybe… we could go to a dinner together ?"

He said nothing for a moment, raising an eyebrow. That's what was going through you mind ?

"Sure." He shrugs.

"No like, as a… date ?" You bite your lips, quickly rectifying yourself.

"Oh."

"Is it still a yes ?" You ask, hopeful, feeling your heart beats louder. You spot another group of children and push him toward them as he's rummaging through the candy box.

"Yes." He simply says, a bit too focused on the candies.

You grin, happy with his answer and you try to remain cool about it. You stop when you arrive in front of the kids and let Levi hand them a big lollipop. You smile a bit too brightly at them but they don't seem to care, too focused on the candies they're getting.

Levi would be lying if he said he wasn't anxious. After all, feelings were never his forte, putting them aside in all those years of fighting titans.

He had a reason to, fearing you would die wasn't an unreasonable thought. He lost so many people dear to him on the way.

So many people he thought wouldn't die. Seeing them, in his head, survive despite the odds like he thought for Hange or Erwin or many more, only for their death to happen and remind him of the harsh reality he's in.

Like he still hasn't learned since his first experience with titans and Furlan's and Isabel's sudden and brutal death. He told himself he had learned. That he knew to expect death for him and for others.

And yet he still imagined so many of them surviving. Being there with him at the end. Only for them to die, leaving him one by one. No matter the age, no matter the determination to live, no matter the background.

He didn't want to have to mourn you too much, even though he knew he would.

Because he knew it would hurt. It always hurts anyway. But he hoped, by not acting on his feelings and acting like he isn't attached, that it would hurt less. He also knew it was stupid and your death would touch him just as much whether you two are a thing or not.

But yet. You survived.

With him.

You were both… alive.

Something he didn't see happen, again.

Like his feelings for you that had blossomed unprompted, never wavering. He never thought he'd get to act on them. Thinking he'd die before it could happen.

And here he was, at the end of it. The end of the titan Era. The end of the constant fear of losing people to titans. It was finally over.

And now it was the start of something else.

With you.

He smiled, his scarred lips curving slightly upward as his fingers grabbed another candy, holding it tightly.

War with titans was over. He could have you now. He could spend his future, because he has one now, with you.

#male reader #m!reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x male reader #attack on titan imagine #shingeki no kyojin x male reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagine #levi ackerman x male reader #levi ackerman #levi Ackerman imagine #aot #snk #levi x reader

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anton-luvr · 6 months

Note

can you do anton x gender neutral reader where they’re coworkers at a book store and when they have to pass books to each other to put away or do their duties with, they put little notes to each other and it’s sticking out and then that’s how anton asks us out

# WITH YOU.

𖦹 bf!anton x gn!reader | fluff | coworkers to lovers au

𖦹 note ; this is so cute ARGH thank u for requesting anon!!! and thank u for waiting too, i hope u like it! <3 + reqs are CLOSED !

Dealing with your boss was the most difficult part of your job.

Barely anyone came in to the local bookstore you worked at, but your boss would always insist on purchasing boxes and boxes of books that would go untouched, leaving it to you and your coworker, Anton, to unbox and shelve them.

You used to despise it, till Anton came up with a silly solution to make the task more bearable.

He would Google up the stupidest jokes and scribble them down on little Post-It notes, placing them randomly in the books.

If he was feeling extra, he'd even write down your horoscope.

It was nothing much, but it was enough to make you smile when shelving the books away.

After a while, you started to do the same for Anton. You would sketch drawings of cats, sometimes sketching famous memes to earn the melody of Anton's laughter for almost five minutes straight.

It soon became habit for the both of you, each leaving a colorful Post-It note to surprise the other on shelving day.

But for today, you don't think you'll have enough time.

Your boss had truly gone insane.

Sales were at an all time low, but he had just purchased five boxes of books. 'Need them scanned and shelved by 5pm, latest.' his text message read, followed by a simple 'okay! :)' from Anton.

You were too annoyed to reply.

"This is crazy," you sigh dramatically, resting your head on the shelf with a thud. "We're never going to finish this before five!"

Anton tuts from his seat at the counter, where he's seemingly busy scanning the books into the system. "Come on, we got this. I'll scan these up as fast as I can and come help you shelve them."

You groan, reluctantly picking up novels and sliding them into the wooden cases. "Fine." you grumble.

Now, if you had stopped being so upset about it and turned around, you'd see what Anton was really doing.

He was writing furiously on pink Post-It notes while he bit his bottom lip anxiously, heart racing a mile a minute.

Hoping you didn't notice, he grabbed some books and stuck each one of them randomly.

Nervously, he takes a deep breath.

"Y/N," he calls out, picking up the stack of books. "There's another stack here to be shelved."

You grunt a response, almost done with the literature shelf you were working on.

"Can you pass them to me? That way I can get this done faster." you asked, exasperated. Anton nods and scurries over immediately, gripping the books so hard that his knuckles were white.

But the pieces of pink paper sticking out of the books catches your attention, and an excited smile falls on your lips.

"Ooh, there's a lot of sticky notes today." you tease. "What is it this time? My horoscope or a motivational quote?"

To your surprise, Anton only shrugs, holding the books out towards you without a word.

Raising an eyebrow, you glance at your coworker suspiciously. "It better not be some sort of insult," you threaten jokingly, not knowing it was going to be quite the opposite.

The first Post-It note you come across tells you just that.

Very simply, written in black marker, was the letter 'G'.

Confused, you turn it towards Anton. "What's this?" you ask. "What does G stand for?"

Playing dumb, Anton shrugs again. "I don't know, you'll just have to keep checking them to see."

Your confusion grows as you receive more and more letters, and you stick them to the shelf for you to keep track.

The last Post-It note was a question mark, and you were just as puzzled. "I don't get it." you mumbled, holding it up for Anton to see. "Is this some kind of riddle?"

Still not talking, Anton points at where you had stuck the Post-It notes.

The moment your eyes run over the chunky alphabets, the message 'GO ON A DATE WITH ME?' rings in your head.

"Me?" you echo, facing Anton with eyes wide with surprise.

Mistaking your reaction for rejection, Anton panics.

"I-It’s fine if you don’t want to, I was just asking!" he squeaks, and he turns around to run back to the counter where he could hide in embarrassment.

But you stop him, pulling him by the arm to face you.

"Hey, I would love to." you reply softly, smiling.

"Really?" he mumbles, eyes shining with pure joy. He knew there would be a fifty percent chance of you saying yes while he planned all this, but it felt surreal to hear you actually agree to go out with him.

"Yeah," you laugh, ruffling his hair.

"Okay then!" he chirps, smiling shyly. "Do you want to go get dinner together on Saturday? Or does Sunday work better for you?"

You hum, putting another book on the shelf.

"Anytime is fine for me," you say, your cheeks warm at the newfound fact that your cute coworker was into you.

"As long as it’s with you."

#riize #riize fics #riize fluff #kpop fics #kpop fluff #riize anton #anton riize #riize x reader #riize drabbles #riize imagines

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issamultistan · 1 year

Text

greengreengreen. | blaise zabini

paring: rival!blaise x fem!reader

wc: 2,200 (two thousand, two hundred)

warnings: nsfw content, cursing, not proofread

content: rivals to lovers, dom!blaise, sub!reader, race neutral reader, slytherin!reader, blaise lowkey manipulates you??? lmfao??? but nothing serious, so COERCION/DUBCON just in case, spanking, humiliation, degradation, slapping, use of “slut” & “good girl”

notes: y’all are in year 7, 18 year olds!! i’ve been writing sm hs smuts mb im reminiscing ok leave me alone + also finally putting a photo that matches the story …

and don’t yell at me that i did this a st. patrick’s day special ok it’s triple green like DO YALL GET IT st. pats, slytherin, and greengreengreen also it relates to the story ok so y’all can not be angry w me xx

LISTEN AS YOU READ:

“blaise. do not do this.” you mutter lowly, looking into his dark eyes with an intense look. even more intense than usual.

“y/n. you know how i am. give me your ‘head girl’ pin, or you need to find a way out of this. no other choice.” blaise fans his warm breath along your jaw, alluding to something more sinister.

“fuck you, blaise.”

“mhm, how about i fuck you, y/n?”

the start of all of this all happened back in first year where you knew that blaise zabini was the last person you’d get along with. even if the both of you were both slytherins, his arrogant persona was definitely something you couldn’t get by.

the two of you weren’t academic rivals, or quidditch rivals, or anything like that. the both of you were rivals to see who was the better person. at first thought, it sounds dumb at first. but trust, it was real.

every single year in your years at hogwarts, you and blaise were trying to one up each other in everything you do. you were first in your classes, head girl, liked amongst everyone, while blaise was the best chaser in his year, apart of the slug club, and surprisingly attracted many students despite his vain personality.

but all of that turns to a close starting today.

your day just ended with a potions class and you were simply packing up your stuff before professor slughorn came up to you after class.

“miss y/l/n?” he says, clasping his hands together and smiling towards you.

“oh, hello professor slughorn.” you reciprocate the smile he gave you.

“why, hello to you too! i simply wanted to ask you a few questions today.” he starts off as you nod. “i wanted to ask, what do you see in zabini? why do you to not get along?” you were startled a bit when he asked you that.

you didn’t realize how even professors caught onto the fact that you and blaise don’t mix well.

“i… i simply think that our personalities don’t do well together. you know him, he thinks highly of himself and he’s very rude. i’m not like him at all.” you shrug.

professor slughorn hums for a few seconds before speaking up, “i think that the two of you could work together well if there was a possibility.”

“why do you say that?” you were clueless of where he was going with this.

“zabini is a wonderful and strong child. you should get to know him, miss y/l/n. you shouldn’t think that low of him.” professor slughorn repeats that same smile from earlier.

“… i’ll think about it, sir.” you nod a bit before the professor hums a goodbye as you leave the room.

you had no idea that was about. why would professor slughorn want to talk about blaise? well, he is apart of the slug club but, why now? you didn’t want to think too much about it, it was the end of the day. you just need some relaxation. that was all.

walking back to the slytherin dorm rooms, you entered into the common rooms, needing somewhere to just sit for a bit. you didn’t want to walk all the way to your dorm, you couldn’t bare the energy that would even take to get there.

you pulled out your herbology textbook and placed it on the table you were at and studied for a bit. it was relaxing having some alone time for yourself, even if i required waving and saying “hi” to your fellow slytherins walking in and out of the commons.

everything was going well until you saw blaise sit right next to you out of all of the tables open and free in the commons.

“hello, blaise.” you say meekly, trying to just focus on your textbook.

“hi, y/n.” he says, without even looking at you.

you didn’t really care that he didn’t glance at you once, you were just glad he didn’t just fully ignore you.

the two of you endured in a few moments of silence before blaise spoke up.

“why did you say that to professor slughorn?”

he heard you?!

“…what?” your eyes flickered to the man right next to you that was already looking right at you.

“pansy overheard you and professor talking. really? ‘he thinks highly of himself’ that’s fucked. why’d you say that when you know i’m in fucking slug club.” he scrunches his brows.

fuck. you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“it was about time you needed to be humbled. i thought the professor already knew that about you.” you defensively say.

blaise scoffs at your words, “you’re such an asshole, do you know that? why’d you have to say that to the professor?!”

exhaling sharply, you reply, “as if you’re not the one bitching about me every second of the hour. he should know the real you. the bitchy you.”

the other students starting looking towards the both of your ways. the argument garnered the attention of the others, not something you wanted.

“you really take up the green of slytherin, don’t you, head girl.” blaise has a glint in his eyes. you couldn’t tell what he was planning for next.

“what the fuck do you mean by that?” you jerked your head back in offense.

“your jealousy and envy is showing. you’re greedy too. green. green. green. you’re so green, y/n. can’t you see it?” blaise raised his voice a few octaves so his voice slightly echoed through the halls too.

your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. you? jealous? envious? and greedy? what was he even saying?!

blaise simpers before getting up and walking away angrily when in reality, he wanted to make a ruckus. your fellow classmates were wondering what happened between the two of you.

a scoff leaves your lips as you got up and chased after him. he wasn’t going to get away from this. he won’t.

as you went down the hallway, you could hear the others in earshot saying, “what did y/n do?!,” “what happened?” and “is blaise angry right now?!” you were sure that you were on the brink of ripping a man’s head of right now.

running up the stairs, blaise stopped in front of his dorm room, turning around to face you with a smug look that you needed to slap off his face.

“the fuck was that for?!” your eyebrows furrowed as blaise leaned against the wall with an aloof expression.

“payback.” is all he says.

“i was just saying what i thought, you lied to everyone down there as if it was true! i don’t want the whole slytherin wizard body thinking i’m some backstabber while being head girl!” you furiously say, getting even more pissed as blaise just stood there, unamused.

blaise gets up from his position but towers you in front of the door, making your back hit the door. he was caging you in with his height, which made you realize how tall he really is.

“you have two choices, give up being head girl or apologize. only i can reverse the effects.” blaise smiles but with unruly intention behind his eyes.

and this is where’d you ended up. stuck between leaving your title that you’ve worked so hard you fulfill or getting fucked by the man who scrutinized you the day you got here acts like an apology.

after a few seconds that felt like forever, you gave in, “what do you want me to do, blaise?” you sigh in defeat. blaise immediately takes you into his dorm room and locks his individual room.

once settled in, blaise immediately sits down at his desk, “take it out for me.” you were stunned for a second from his bold request. but of course, you realized what you agreed to.

you got onto your knees and started unbuckling his belt. sliding it out of all of his belt loops and throwing it to the side. soon you were faced of pulling his cock out. grabbing it under the material of his underwear, you saw it for the first time.

girthy. that was the best way to describe it. you couldn’t even believe that somehow blaise wanted it somewhere in you and it needed it fit. nonetheless, your lips almost wrapped around his lighter tip before blaise grabs your chin, “no, y/n. how about you fuck yourself on it.”

“what?” your hand loosens the grip on his length as you stared at him.

“you heard what i said, slut.” blaise says allowing the ‘s’ roll off his tongue effortlessly.

rolling your eyes at him, you complied and stood back up. you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to your feet. blaise was getting too ahead of himself and started slowly stroking himself at the slight of you undressing yourself in front of him.

soon your fingertips hooked under your underwear and you allowed them to pool along with your skirt that was on the floor. to your surprise, your underwear was stained with arousal. there was no way in hell you were already wet.

“hmm, i see we’re already wet. i can’t believe you actually enjoy this.” blaise sighs in triumph.

you mutter a small, “whatever.” before aligning yourself on top of his cocks’ head. blaise stops you for a second. he raises two fingers at the edge of your inner lips, eager to slide them into your mouth.

although a bit hesitant, you slide them down. wetting his slim fingers and leaving a saliva trail. blaise is surprised you complied so well. “good girl.” he says as he slips his wet fingers along his tip and the opening of your cunt.

when he finished, you slowly sink down upon his length. allowing yourself loose, his cock was filling you up larger than you expected. just from the girth itself, you struggled to have the entirety of blaise’s cock resting snug inside of you.

shaky breaths and exhales from the size causes blaise to run his hands on the flesh of your ass. smoothing them down and kneading them with his fingertips. he relished in the feeling of him entirely in you. it was almost like you were made from him.

“you good?” he mumbles against your chest. you nod in response, not being able to move for a bit.

“you could say i’m green, right now.” you joke, earning a small snicker from blaise and a quick spank on your ass. you jolt and shut your eyes from the sudden sharpness. you never knew you’d be into these things, but blaise has you in a spiral.

with one small breath, you finally rock your hips against his cock, allowing yourself to rise and lower them in a slow yet steady pace. the slickness from your cunt and your saliva made the room swell with the erotic noise.

the more you rocked, the more the motion became smooth, became less painful. blaise uses his hands and allows you to even take more of him by pressing you down and sliding you back up. “fuck— who knew the head girl had this good of a pussy, hmm? you’re clenching on me— does it feel that good, slut?” he groans into your neck, suppressing his expression.

your cheeks warmed at his words, the control he had over you was nearly overwhelming. “don’t just sit there, respond.” blaise says with a slap against your cheek. after he slaps you he grabs your face with his hand.

“god— yes! it feels so good—!” you were sputtering all over your words. blaise smirks in satisfaction at your response. he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

he pulls your face towards him and presses his lips against yours, his tongue sliding in between your parted lips. you moan into his mouth as he intensifies the kiss, his hand reaching down to play with your clit.

“fuckin’ slut. you love this— only a slut likes the fact she’s getting fucked dumb like this.” he mumbles between kisses. even if you wanted blaise to shut up, you didn’t want him to stop. the sensation is too much for you and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. blaise can feel your walls clenching around him and he knows you're about to come.

he grabs your hips and begins to pound into you, his own orgasm building up. with a final thrust, he spills his seed inside you, the feeling of his hot release triggering your own orgasm. you scream out his name as you come, your body shaking with pleasure.

afterwards, your breathing ragged as blaise tries to catch up with his breaths as well. he strokes your hair lovingly, a satisfied smile on his face. “you were amazing,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“so were you.” you feel a sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you’ve pleased him. even if it all started with you being more green than he particularly liked. you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and secure in his arms. you can't help but wonder, what will happen after this?

let’s just leave it for now. you'll somehow figure it out later with blaise.

multifandom masterlist !

#lin’s works ♡#lin’s playlist ♡#harry potter smut #hp smut #blaise zabini smut #smut #fantasy smut #hard hours #smut imagine #smut writing #Spotify #issamultistan

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fortisfilia · 1 month

Text

Promised Part 7 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.2k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 6 | Part 8

Part 7 - Gift Giving

“So this is the last part of the house,” you said, after giving Tom a tour around the estate, arriving upstairs in the corridor leading to the bedrooms. “The guestroom is right at the end of the hallway. It has its own bathroom, which is a bit small. I hope you don’t mind.”

Tom shook his head as he peered towards the half-open door to the guestroom, that the house-elves were preparing for him.

“This right there is Elsie’s room, next to it is the master bedroom. And this,” you said, leaning onto a door. “Is my room.”

Tom’s eyes met yours.

“Want to come in?”

He nodded.

There was a sense of excitement in the air, letting Tom enter your room. It was something so private, it felt like you let him walk straight into your head. But it was the polite thing to do. Although he didn’t seem too crushed from the argument he had had with his grandfather and uncle, it surely would make him feel better if he knew he was welcome here. He wouldn't want to be treated differently than usual, you knew, but a little empathy couldn't hurt.

“Take a seat if you like. Anywhere,” you said, trying to hide the nerves that were making your fingertips tingle. Sitting down on the sofa next to the bookshelf, you folded your treacherous hands and watched him walk across the room. He glanced at your belongings, only in passing, one would think, if he weren't Tom Riddle. Surely he had made up his mind about every single thing he saw. Every book, each letter from Camille on the desk, and crumpled note in the bin. You should have cleaned. He stopped by the desk and picked up a framed picture of you and your family.

“Sorry about my mother,” you mentioned when you noticed what he was inspecting.

“What do you mean?”

“She can be a bit brash, you know. When she asked you to stay earlier. But she usually means well.”

“Oh.” He set the picture back down. “I didn’t mind actually. You know my family. They’re brash. And not the good kind.”

Absolutely not the good kind. “Is it always like that with them?”

“Since I can remember at least.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry,” you then said.

“For what? That’s just how it is. They have their ways and I have mine.”

Right. He must be used to them by now. What a sad thought. “Did you know they would bring up the unbreakable vow?“

“No… I had no idea. They’re idiots. Just stupid. Why ask for more each time? They always want to be a step ahead for nothing.”

“What did you say to them?” you asked, hiding that you already knew.

“That I wouldn’t do it. They took our word for it then and that should be enough. They can’t force us to do a vow.”

“How angry are they?”

“They’ll come around,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t our first argument and it won’t be our last.”

“It must be hard to put up with them. They seem… exhausting.”

“I don’t know any different.” His voice was neutral as he leant against the desk, still looking around the room. “It’s not that bad I suppose.”

“Not that good either, though. I know it might not be my place, but they’re so cold. I can’t imagine what living with them must be like.”

“Well, I can’t complain, can I?” he said, raising a brow to your unsolicited sympathy. “I was fed every day. The house was warm and the bills were paid. What more could I ask for?”

A lot more, one would say if the question wasn’t a rhetorical one. “Have you always lived with them?”

“Yes.”

“What about -” You cut yourself off. There were plenty of rumours about Tom’s parents, each of them too wild to be true.

“My parents?” His eyes were still on you, not in anger, yet the intensity of his stare threatened to burn holes through your skin.

Your retreat was subconscious when you could no longer withstand his gaze and nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

Tom exhaled sharply. It almost sounded like a laugh. “I don't usually talk about it because people just want to know about them so they can get something out of it. It’s not a sensitive subject for me though. I don’t mind.”

There was no irony in his voice, his features collected, so you dared to ask, "Do you miss them?"

“Never have.”

“Really? You never wished to live with your parents instead of Marvolo and Morfin?”

Tom smiled weakly and shook his head. “Wishing for something won’t make it happen. And no. It would have been quite the same, I think. Maybe even worse.”

“Worse?”

“You’ve heard how Marvolo talks about my parents. His daughter and a muggle. A stain in the bloodline he said, didn’t he?”

“But if they loved each other that shouldn’t have mattered to him.”

His eyebrows rose in what looked like a strange form of amusement. “Well, that’s a whole other story.”

What did that even mean? “Have they-”

Tom shook his head, making it clear that he wasn’t going to talk any further about it. He walked across the room towards you, fiddling something out from the inner pocket of his jacket.

That had been one question too much apparently, and it was unclear if he was pulling out his wand or was on his way out, but as you opened your mouth again, he sat down beside you.

“I’m going to tell you,” he said. “Not now though. You’re going to know everything about me eventually. Someday.”

“Someday then,” you repeated. “What have you got there?”

He held the thing from his jacket in his hand now. It was a package that seemed a bit squished as if it had barely fit into the pocket.

“Hold on,” he said and waved his wand at it, to smooth out the wrinkles on the paper. It was a present, a rectangular box, covered in dark green gift wrap. “I thought it would be impolite to come over for lunch without bringing at least a little Christmas gift.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” you said as he handed over the present.

“Go on, open it,” he said and motioned with his hand.

So you did and quickly found out what the package contained. A small handwritten book, full of potions recipes.

“Nicked it from my uncle when he wasn’t looking,” Tom said. “So you better don’t mention it to him.”

“Oh great,” you laughed as you flipped through it. “Wow, I haven’t heard of any of these.”

“None of them are taught in school. I thought you’d like them. Didn’t seem like the ones we do with Slughorn were much of a challenge for you.”

The book looked as if it had been used a lot. The thin black binder was frayed and faded, and the edges of the pages were crinkled. On every other page, the handwriting changed, so it seemed that many different people had written the recipes. Poisons, antidotes and bewitchments you had never heard of were all listed, neatly explained and completed with full lists of ingredients.

“Where did your uncle get this from?” you asked, still looking through it.

“I’m not sure. Knockturn Alley perhaps, or on some market. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had added a few ones himself.”

As peculiar as it was, not many people could say they got a book of dark magic and probably illegal potions for Christmas.

“What an unusual gift. I do like it. Thank you, really!” you said and opened your arms to hug him, out of pure habit, but froze when you saw his stern expression, your arms still open.

He looked into your eyes again, seemed to think for a moment and finally nodded to let you hug him. Just like when you had held hands, he was stiff and rigid, it felt like he was uncomfortable. You retracted, but as soon as you let go, he wrapped his arms around you and held you a little tighter, extending the embrace for a few more seconds.

There was a ghost of a smile on his face when you sat back straight and he was about to say something when the door flew open.

Tummy, one of the house-elves, stood in the door frame. “Miss, the guestroom is ready. Mister Riddle, Sir, please follow me.”

“Great,” Tom whispered under his breath, got up and followed the elf.

You quickly hid the book under your pillow and called after them, “It’d be nice if you could knock next time, Tummy!”

“Sorry Miss! Will knock!” His voice echoed from the hallway.

When Mother called for dinner in the evening it was quiet at first. The turmoil from lunch still lingered in the air and no one had the heart to talk about it. The usual pleasantries didn’t last for long, so everyone resorted to picking on their food, which was better than exchanging uncomfortable glances.

“Tom?” Elsie said all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” he answered and you looked back and forth between the two.

“Did you know I’ll go to Hogwarts too next term?” Elsie went on, a very proud tone in her voice.

He grinned while picking up some green beans with his fork. “I did know that, yes.”

“I haven’t gotten the letter yet, so technically I don’t know if I’ll get in, but my parents said it will come on my eleventh birthday.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He had barely finished his last word when Elsie asked the next thing.

“What’s your favourite subject?”

“Um… Defence Against The Dark Arts, I think,” Tom said. “It’s interesting enough.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he took a second to think. “I like to be prepared.”

“And you’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’ll get sorted into Slytherin?”

“Depends. Is it your favourite?”

You caught your parents exchanging looks and smiling at each other.

“Um… Well,” Elsie began. “I think they’re all nice. But Gryffindor is the best I guess.”

Tom clicked his tongue and shook his head jokingly. “Shame,” he said.

“Do you play Quidditch?” Elsie asked.

“No, I’m not into sports.”

“But can you fly?”

“Yes, I’m a decent flyer.”

She looked at your parents for a moment and whispered to Tom, “Do you think you can show me? How to fly a broom. I got one for Christmas, you see. And I-”

“Elsie,” Father laughed. “Let the boy eat, please.”

“No, I can show you,” Tom said. “It’s the least I can do to show my respect after you’re letting me stay here.”

“That’s very kind of you Tom,” Mother said. “And you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you. I won’t bother you for long though,” he answered.

Dessert was served and Elsie peppered Tom with questions about brooms until Father finally told her to leave him alone.

Later that night, when you lay in bed, you pulled the book out from under your pillow and held it for a while. It probably wasn’t even meant to be so special, but the fact that Tom had thought of giving you a present for Christmas, was not what you would have expected.

And you hadn’t even wasted a single thought about getting him something. How ignorant.

You wondered how he felt about that. If he even felt about that, one way or another.

Your fingertip ran up and down the book spine countless times while you stared up onto the ceiling. You had to get him something. Something special.

And then you wondered if he couldn’t sleep either. If he wanted to talk for just a bit as well. If he thought about lying next to you, too. You could try to sneak out of your room and over to the guest room. Your parents wouldn’t like that of course, but you were going to marry him. They had to get used to the thought. And if you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t even notice.

You sat up slowly, put the book back under your pillow and tiptoed to the door of your room. Turning the doorknob as quietly as possible and holding your breath, you looked out into the dark hallway. You wouldn’t even need light, you knew this hallway like the back of your hand. Fifteen, maybe twenty quick steps and you would be right by the door to the guest room. So you took the first step out of your room.

“Miss!” a squeaky voice whispered in the dark from below.

It was Tummy, standing there alone.

“Tummy?” you asked quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Miss, Master told Tummy to keep watch all night. So that Mister Riddle wouldn’t disturb you in your room.”

Great. Your parents were a few steps ahead.

“Can Tummy get you anything, Miss?”

“No, I… I just thought I heard something,” you sighed. “Does Father really force you to stay up all night? You can go downstairs to sleep if you want to.”

“No, Miss, no,” the elf said and smiled. “Tummy sleeps right here on the floor. I have very good ears, yes. I hear every little noise, you see? I will wake up whenever I hear something and alert the Masters.”

Unbelievable. They had thought of everything.

“I see,” you said. “But I’m not afraid Tom would disturb me. You really can go downstairs.”

“Miss, Tummy is thankful for your offer, but I must follow the Master's order. Tummy doesn’t mind it.”

“Alright then,” you gave up. “Hang on though.” You went back into your room, and fetched one of the three pillows from your bed. “Take this at least,” you told the elf and gave him the pillow. “It’s big enough for you to sleep on.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. Please.”

“I insist.”

Tummy smiled, took the pillow and nodded. “Thank you, Miss. Tummy is very grateful.”

“Good night, Tummy.

“Good night, Miss.”

The following day went by quicker than you had wanted it to. Father, Tom and Elsie went outside in the late morning to give Elsie her long-awaited flying lessons. They were a great team, against all expectations. You watched them from the kitchen window and noticed how Father held himself back from helping. He kept a careful eye on the two when Tom showed Elsie how to mount the broom correctly.

Elsie listened intently to everything Tom told her, tried to follow each step precisely and could properly hold herself in the air after a while. Father and Tom seemed incredibly proud, not only of themselves but of your little sister.

You could have watched them for hours, but Mother had called you to the reading room, to go to Diagon Alley via the Floo Network. You had asked her to take her with you since you wanted to get some new quills for school and a proper Christmas present for Tom.

Thankfully Diagon Alley wasn’t too busy, yet it took you a while to find an appropriate gift. You hadn’t even known where to start looking, but when you finally saw it in the shop window, you knew it was perfect.

Back home, Elsie, Father and Tom were just walking back inside, their cheeks and noses all flushed from the hours they had spent out in the cold. Elsie jumped through the living room, raving about how high she was able to fly now. She had even attempted to do some advanced twists but almost had taken a fall.

Father patted Tom on the shoulder and thanked him for his time, which made Tom’s ears turn almost as pink as his cheeks and nose.

After congratulating your sister on her achievement, you turned to Tom. “Would you follow me? There’s something I want to show you.”

You took him to the reading room, where the parcel you got him stood under the desk.

“Long day, huh?” you asked when you closed the door behind you.

He nodded. "Successful though. Your sister is a quick learner. She could make it on the Quidditch team one day.”

“Thank you for teaching her,” you said. “We all appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Now that you were with him, you didn’t know where to start. Should you tell him about lying in bed with the book in your hand, thinking of him? That you almost would have knocked on his door in the middle of the night, if Tummy had not been there? That could sound terribly invasive. What if he wouldn’t have wanted you to come? Now that you thought about it, you were glad that Tummy had spoiled your plan. Nighttime certainly made you too reckless.

“So, is this a hint for me to leave?” Tom asked, pointing at the fireplace.

“No! I mean, it’s not. Are you planning on leaving?”

“I might go back home tonight,” he nodded.

“Already? Do you not like it here?”

A smirk crossed his face for a second. “Oh I do. I think I haven’t had a better night’s sleep anywhere, outside of Hogwarts.” He took a step closer. “If it wasn’t for the elf in the hallway, I’m sure it would have been even better.”

How would he also know about Tummy? Did he leave his room too? To prevent your mouth from hanging open, you bit your tongue and answered, “Father is overprotective.”

“Quite a shame.”

“Certainly.”

The look on his face held something new, something previously unseen. Something that resembled banter or a cheeky joke between friends. It would not have been awkward at all if you had gone over to his room. Tummy be damned.

“Still,” he said. “I should go home to smooth things over before school starts again.”

“Of course. Before you go though, there’s something I want you to have. I thought of your present a lot. And I decided I had to get you something as well.”

“Not necessary. Your family let me stay the night, that’s more than en-”

“Stop it,” you snapped and went to get the parcel from under the table. “There’s not a lot of things I thought suited Tom Riddle. But this does, I believe.”

He took the box with both hands, placed it onto the desk and pulled off the top. “Oh.”

“Her name is Nagini. She’s not fully grown yet.”

Tom took a dark green, medium-sized snake out of the box and let it curl around his arm.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That I’m a Parselmouth.”

“Yes,” you nodded. “People in Hogwarts were talking about it years ago and then I thought of your house and your relation to Salazar Slytherin. It made sense.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, looking into your eyes before he watched Nagini gliding from one arm to the other. “Stretch out your arm for me.”

You did and let your fingers touch his. Both of you now stood there with one arm pointing towards each other. The snake slithered around Tom’s arm, quickly making its way towards his outstretched fingers and over to yours. It hissed quietly while wandering up to your shoulder.

“She likes you,” Tom said softly. “A lot.”

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 8

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zoeykallus · 11 months

Note

hi i couldn't find the status of your requests so i figure there is no harm in just putting this out there? I understand if they are closed though and I just didn't find it so no pressure!!

Anyways, I wanted to request thigh riding with the bad batch + rex (and maybe fives if you are down?)

Thank you so much!!!

Aloha!

Hmm, good request 🤤 I can only guess, but looking at the thigh riding thing, I assume we talk about a fem!Reader? Well, let's hope I assumed right 😅

The Bad Batch/Rex/Fives x Fem!Reader HCs- Thigh Riding Part 1 Of 2

Warnings: Strongly Suggestive/Dry Humping/Thigh Riding/Strong Language/18+

___________________

AC: Sorry, got carried away with the idea I had for the Tech part. And Again, I did much more than I planned in the first place, so I have to make this into two parts, or I'll never get done with this 😅

Tech

You are working in the small engine room of the Marauder. It's pretty cramped in here, you're practically sitting on Tech's lap, or rather he's sitting, and you're standing, one of his legs between yours. It's warm in here, so you've shed most of your gear. Tech is practically wearing just his Blacks, codpiece and tool belt. You're wearing a tank top and your tight yoga pants. Actually, you had wanted to do some exercise, but Tech approached you and asked for help before you could.

You're wrenching something behind Tech, practically over his shoulder, and he's working at about your waist level next to you.

"Isn't that too uncomfortable? It's cramped in here, and working so close together isn't everyone's cup of tea."

You shrug your shoulders and say, "It doesn't bother me."

Of course, you don't mind working so closely with Tech, quite the opposite, but you don't say it so specifically.

He says matter-of-factly, "Besides you, there's only Wrecker here today, and he won't fit between the machines with me."

Clearly, you hope there's more to it than practical thinking, but you can never be sure with Tech.

"I understand," you say neutrally and ask, "Can you see what you're working on or am I in the way?"

You don't see Tech's gaze glance very briefly over your cleavage and then back to his work.

He replies, "I can't complain about the view."

You wonder at his choice of words, but don't really think anything of it, not with Tech. He changes his position a bit to better reach the cables he needs to connect, brushing his thigh up between yours, touching the center between them for a brief moment.

Immediately, heat rises in you and a tingling sensation deep in your belly moves down into the heated triangle between your thighs.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

You're so close to him, but you're working, actually, there's nothing really intimate about this, but it feels like it. It's a bittersweet agony. As far as you know, Tech has no idea you have a crush on him. Would he work as closely with you if he did know?

You also have to bend over further and down, towards him. Your center is now practically resting on his thigh. You feel every little muscle movement on his part through the thin fabric of your pants.

Nervously, you lick your lips, glad that Tech doesn't have Hunter's senses, because otherwise he would already know about the heat rising in you. It tingles wonderfully, you feel a little ashamed of it, but you also enjoy it.

As Tech moves again, pushing his thigh up again, a surprised gasp comes over your lips. He pauses, as do you.

"Is this uncomfortable for you? I mean working in this position?" he asks cautiously.

You clear your throat before answering, "No, not at all"

"You seem a little tense".

You feel hot and cold and consider telling him the truth.

"I… it feels, pleasant" you say softly.

Tech tries to read in your tone, in your posture, by now he's learned a little, but he's not sure.

"Maybe we should try to release some of this tension?"

You pause again, listening.

"It sounds like you already have ideas about that," you say curiously.

He fidgets a bit, unsure how to proceed, causing even more friction between your thighs and eliciting another small gasp from you. Tech holds still, slowly looking up at you standing there over his lap.

With his index finger, he thoughtfully pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose and says, "Oh, I see. Is it sexual tension?"

"I… what?" you ask, perplexed.

Instead of repeating his question, he tenses his thigh and lets it gently but firmly brush over your clothed pussy. The tool slips from your hand, falls clattering to the floor, and your hands automatically shoot to his shoulders.

When he stops again, you hastily let go of his shoulders. You feel your panties wet by now, your face and ears feeling red hot.

"Tech-" you begin, but he gently interrupts you.

"It's okay, I'm happy to help you release this tension if you'll let me".

He's still looking up, into your face, as he removes his gloves. Slowly, carefully, his hands move to your hips and gently but firmly grasp, pushing you towards his tense thigh. You almost automatically pick up the motion he's giving you with his hands, rubbing your pussy over his thigh. The friction instantly sends sweet, tingling pulses through your starved neural pathways. Your hands travel down his neck and over his shoulders.

Slowly but purposefully, his hands move to your buns and grasp, curious as well as hungry, kneading gently.

Somewhat breathlessly, Tech says, "You'll tell me if I go too far?"

Your mind is completely befuddled at the moment, all you can think about is that feeling, his hands on your ass, his thigh against your pussy.

"Okay," you say just as breathlessly.

His fingertips wander testingly and gently to the waistband of your yoga pants, slipping very slowly underneath and pulling the fabric down a little. Tech waits while you continue to shamelessly rub against him. When you voice no objections, instead rubbing against him even more intensely, his fingers begin to slide down the sides of your buns, under the fabric of the panties, and feel the bare skin underneath.

He gropes and expels a shaky breath. Behind his codpiece, the only piece of his armor he wears, his cock is already hard as stone. He hears you gasp and looks up again. Your eyes are closed, your head leaning back, your fingers clawed into his shoulders as your climax overtakes you.

With his mouth open, he stares at you, listening, his hands firmly on your bare ass. His thighs tremble, including the one you're rubbing against. He swallows, suppresses a soft curse, and surprisingly cums under his codpiece. Tech didn't necessarily expect that, at the moment he's grateful to be camouflaged.

Your eyes open and with heated cheeks you look at him.

"Thank you, Tech," you say softly, a little breathlessly.

He clears his throat and says, "Anytime."

Hunter

He smirks at you, you return his gaze questioningly.

"What's going on? What are you thinking about right now?"

He laughs softly.

"I can smell what you're thinking about."

You get hot and cold, you want to avert your eyes in shame, but he says, "Besides, I see you staring at my thighs," and taps his right thigh invitingly, "Come here sweetie."

You stand up, coming closer. As soon as you're in range, he unbuckles the piece of armor on his thigh, drops it to the ground, grabs your hips with gusto, and pulls you onto his thigh. Hunter grabs your chin, kisses you softly and says, "I know what my girl likes."

Indeed, he does. His hands move to the hem of your skirt and push it up, exposing your lace panties. Hunter smiles and looks back up into your face.

"Are you wearing some pretty underwear for me".

You nod with a small smirk.

Hunter's hands slide down your thighs, the touch on your bare skin, leaving a pleasant tingle that travels all the way to your pussy. Finally, his hands are on your hips under your skirt. He tenses his thigh, letting you feel it.

"Go ahead, get what you need," he says suggestively, pulling on your hips in an inviting way.

You start to move, and he flexes his thigh muscle to give you some incentive. Your clit rubs over his hard, taut muscle. It doesn't take long for your juices to collect and start dripping through the panties and staining his blacks.

"I'm going to stain your blacks," you say with a soft sigh.

"That's alright" Hunter assures you, "I can change later".

You move faster, massaging your pussy against his thigh, feeling the familiar tingle in your belly, the longed-for pulse in your wet slit. Hunter listens to your little sighs and moans, looks contentedly at your fingers clinging to the breastplate of his armor.

He glances down, pulling the fabric of your skirt up a bit more, and grins as he sees the wet spot spreading there on the fabric at his thigh.

"Good girl, keep going, keep going".

He is horny, his cock already hard behind his codpiece, but he lets you do your thing. He starts to gently knead your ass, sliding his fingers over your buns. Suddenly, one of his hands pulls the neckline of your top down along with the cups of your bra, exposing your breasts. The next moment, he has one of your nipples between his lips, his tongue dancing around the sensitive bud.

A moan passes your lips, a renewed, much more intense pulse starts in your belly and shoots downward, your thighs clamp around his as his hands reach for your ass again while his mouth lusts over your breasts.

"Fuck," you moan out softly.

It's almost time. He hums contentedly into your cleavage as he feels your thighs tremble around his. Your pussy contracts, your clit pulses and in a hot wave, your orgasm releases and with a heavy sigh, your upper body tips forward.

He laughs softly, his face between your breasts. Breathing heavily, you lean back again, your cheeks burning hot.

Hunter has been holding back all this time, but now he's so horny, the night is sure to be long and hot.

Echo

You're just getting out of the shower, jumping at him when you see him in your living room. Echo is back unexpectedly early from his last mission. You are wearing only underwear, your skin is still partially wet. You knock him over with you and he falls butt first onto the sofa, you land on his lap.

"Wow, sweetie, someone's glad to see me," he says with a laugh and returns the hug.

In the next second he realizes that you are almost naked and fresh out of the shower. His cheeks start to warm.

"Okay, we should agree that from now on you will always greet me in such a stormy and half-naked way," he says with a wry little smile.

The fresh air makes your nipples stand up, and he can clearly see them showing under the thin fabric of the lacy bra. Echo licks his lips, for a moment he can't help but just stare at them.

"Echo."

Startled, he tears himself away from the sight and looks up into your face.

"Yeah?"

You bite your lower lip, giving him that one look he already knows from you, the look that tells him you're horny, that you want something specific from him. Echo blinks, already feeling it slowly getting hard behind his codpiece.

He finally smiles.

"Need some lovin' by your favorite soldier?" he asks, slightly insinuating.

Your fingers wander to his thighs and roam over them testingly, his gaze following your hands.

"Oh, I see. A little ride?"

You nod, and your smile widens. Without hesitation, Echo removes the thigh guard of his armor and, wrapping his Scomp Link arm around you, pulls you toward him. Echo tenses the muscle, pushing it toward your pussy, toward the movements of your hips.

"My sweet, dirty girl," he murmurs suggestively.

His free hand probes your bare skin, stroking, kneading, grasping as you rub your pussy faster and harder against his thigh.

"You're all wet, aren't you? Let me feel"

You lift your lap a little, his hand immediately wandered to the fabric of your panties.

"Very wet, very wet indeed," he says with satisfaction, slipping his fingers under the fabric.

You moan his name as his fingers slide through your damp folds, two of his fingertips finding your hole and slipping between the slick walls.

Echo bites his lower lip, your pussy feels great, so soft, tight and warm. His cock is almost painfully hard. He fingers you as his thumb massages your clit, listening to your little sighs. Finally, he hastily pulls his hand back from you to take off his codpiece, palming his cock over the fabric. You reach under the waistband of his blacks and pull them down. His beautiful, hard cock pops out from behind the fabric.

His hand goes between your thighs again, his fingers gathering up as much of your arousal as possible, then he takes his hard length in his hand and starts pumping.

"Such a good wet girl" he says almost as if in a trance, "Sit back down, rub against me darling".

You do as you're told, humping his taut thigh, the yearning, tingling pulse building again, steadily increasing. The more intensely you rub against him, the more intensely he pumps his cock in his hand.

The second you feel your orgasm coming, you grab his face with both hands, entangling him in a heartfelt kiss as your thighs tremble around his. He moans in surprise into your mouth as he cums just a heartbeat later.

You release your lips from each other breathlessly.

Echo whispers, "Gods, I missed you."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@bandnerdlevel43

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

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@padawancat97

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@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

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thatfanficstuff · 1 year

Text

What Puppy?

Grouping: Avengers x Gender Neutral!Soulmate!Reader

warning: all the fluff

A/N: Other than the ones mentioned, anyone can be the reader's soulmate. I can only fit so many characters in a one shot. Also, that puppy up there is mine when he was eight weeks old. His name is Rascal. Isn't he adorable?

Being the soulmate of several of the Avengers was...intense, for lack of a better word. Especially when you had been nothing more than a low-level analyst when Steve ran into you at a SHIELD base. He'd immediately ushered you to the tower and you'd been there ever since.

And you didn't regret it, not for a moment. They doted on you and smothered you in love and affection. There was only one thing you wanted that they refused to give you. A puppy.

Actually, most of them didn't care. It was Tony that refused to have an animal underfoot. Steve agreed with Tony because it was his tower and Bucky agreed with Steve because it was his Steve.

When one of your friends’ dog had several puppies, you made a point to visit at least twice a week. You'd sit on the floor and let all five of them crawl all over you. One in particular seemed rather attached and would stumble across the floor to greet you when you came through the door. You'd named him Captain.

They were mutts, scruffy little things and absolutely adorable. This particular visit was short as you promised to be home for dinner. As you opened the door, your friend stopped you and placed Captain in your arms. "Take him."

You gasped. "I can't. Tony said absolutely not."

She snorted a laugh. "As if they'd actually refuse you anything. Take him home. Once he's there, things will change. You'll see."

You glanced down at the pup and he yipped before licking your face. "And if they don't?"

"Bring him back tomorrow," she said with a shrug.

To be truthful, you knew you were taking Captain home the moment she put him in your arms. Look at his little face! You couldn't just leave him. So, you carried him home. And when you arrived at the tower, you tucked him in your coat and zipped it up to hide him inside.

You went to your floor hoping that everyone would be off doing other things. As luck would have it, Steve, Buck, and Sam were all in sitting area and turned when you stepped off the elevator. Your steps stuttered as you saw them before you gave them a wide smile. "Hi, guys. I need to run to my room for a second. I'll be right back."

Steve's eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion and he stood to greet you. "Hello, sweetheart. Where have you been?"

You shrugged. "Nowhere special."

Sam pursed his lips as he looked you over. "I thought you were going to see the puppies today."

"I did, but I do that all the time. So like I said, nowhere special."

Bucky came to stand beside Steve. "That's odd. Normally you won't shut up about how cute they are."

Captain started to squirm and you tried to get him to still without squeezing him too hard. This was not going the way you'd planned. "I just figured you were tired of hearing about them."

A yip came from your pup and you looked anywhere but your mates.

"What was that?" Steve asked. His voice was stern but when you glanced at him amusement filled his gaze.

You widened your eyes in faux innocence. "What was what?"

Sam jumped over the back of the couch and joined the other two blocking your path. "Show me the puppy."

You blinked at him. "What puppy?"

He snorted then made grabby hands. "Give me the dog, babe."

You sighed and unzipped your coat halfway down. A furry face popped out of the opening and looked around.

Bucky dropped the arms that had been crossed over his chest and gaped at the cuteness that had just emerged. "Oh. My. God."

You grinned and pulled the fluffball from your coat before holding him up. "Guys, meet Captain."

Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Captain, huh?"

"I named him after Carol," you said with a nod and laughed at the disgruntled expression that crossed his face.

Sam took the dog from you and cradled him against his chest. "He's adorable." He kissed the top of the fuzzy head. "I love him. We're keeping him forever."

Bucky nodded. "I agree."

Steve chuckled as he scratched the pup between the ears. "I think you all are forgetting Tony. He'll never go for it."

"No." Tony's voice came over the speakers. "No puppies." He probably had Jarvis programmed to let him know if an animal entered the tower.

Sam put the dog behind his back and looked around. "What puppy? There's no puppy here."

"Nice try, birdbrain. No pets." With that proclamation he was gone.

Your boys were pouting when you took the dog back from Sam. You kissed his cheek. "I'll be right back."

You headed to the lab. Bruce noticed you first and grinned when he saw the puppy. 'Good luck' he mouthed and you couldn't help but return the grin.

"Tony," you said, drawing out his name in a subtle plea.

"No," he said without looking up from his project.

"But Tony." You added a pout though he had yet to glance at you.

"I said no, baby. You know the rule."

You moved closer, Captain cradled against your chest. "He likes it here. Sam and Bucky think we should keep him."

He snorted. "Yeah, well I doubt either of them are going to clean up when it pisses on my floor. No."

"But I thought you wanted me to feel at home here," you said in your most pathetic voice. "Doesn't that mean it's our floor?"

The corner of his mouth kicked up though he still didn't look at you. "Nice try but it won't work. He can stay the night. That's it."

You sighed, your heart sinking. "Alright, Tony. It was worth a shot." This time you didn't have to fake the sadness in your tone. You kissed your mate's cheek before heading for the door as you nuzzled the puppy's head. Tony's gaze trailed you as you went.

Three hours later, you sat in the living room on the common floor playing with Captain. Your mates and other team members joined in occasionally but your focus was strictly on the little pup you'd have to return the next day.

"There is a delivery on the main floor for you," Jarvis' voice came. Of course, it would be the one time you were alone all day so you couldn't send someone else after it.

"Thanks, J." You stood with a sigh and scooped up Captain to take him with you.

A delivery guy holding a large open topped box was waiting for you when you arrived in the lobby. He said your name to verify it was you then placed the box on the counter you indicated. You signed where he told you and watched him leave before taking a peek.

The box was filled with everything you might need for puppy. There was a bed, toys, food and water dishes, a small bag of food, and even training pads.

"What?" you breathed, completely lost. You startled when arms wrapped around your waist as you hadn't heard anyone join you. You immediately knew it was Tony and you leaned back into his chest.

"I decided it was a shame to have to take him all the way home so I guess he can stay," he said before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

You turned in his arms. "Seriously?"

He gave you a lopsided grin and nodded his head. You gave him a one-armed hug being careful not to crush Captain. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Anything for you," he said after giving you a sweet kiss.

Captain yipped and licked first you then Tony earning him a scratch between the ears from your mate. "Welcome to the family, Cap."

#avengers x soulmate!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x gender neutral!reader #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers fanfiction

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mactavsh · 1 year

Text

The Time in Between

Synopsis: Soap always knows how to put the pieces back together.

Relationships: John “Soap” MacTavish x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: mentions of death, grief

Masterlist

Waiting. You hated waiting.

When you enlist they don't tell you how much time you'll waste doing just that.

For extract. For orders. Hell, for a shower.

The agonizing moments when time feels like molasses. When you have no choice but to be left with your thoughts. To let them drag you down and hope you can eventually climb back out.

If you're lucky there's someone to help drag you out - a beacon of light that can crash through the darkness, effortlessly swimming through the expanse with one goal: bring you back to them.

It took a long time to find your person, you were fully convinced it would never happen. Then there he was, crashing through every barrier you had built around yourself. Bright blue eyes pierced through the darkness and offered you a hand.

John Mactavish became your person as soon as you met. The two of you were kindred spirits and you both often found yourselves wondering how you’d made it this far without the other.

He always knew what to do. He was so perceptive to you and everyone around him that sometimes you wondered if you had a billboard attached to your forehead that simply stated help me.

For a demolition expert, he was very good at keeping you from falling apart.

The last mission had been difficult and you knew it was showing, but you didn't care. You had lost some civilians you were trying to protect and their deaths weighed heavily on your conscience.

Since the team had gotten back you hadn't slept, what little rest you did get was riddled with nightmares. Tonight was more of the same, sleep would not come no matter how hard you tried.

Deciding not to fight insomnia any longer you got up from the bed, gently untangling yourself from the mess of limbs Soap was while he slept. You were careful not to make too much noise as you got dressed.

Walking up the stairs to the roof access you gently pushed the door open, the chill night air waking your senses. You easily spotted Ghost in the dim moonlight and walked over to him.

“I can take it from here, Ghost.”

“You should be sleeping.” He looked at you from where he was standing.

“Not tonight.” You shrugged and stood next to him placing your hands in your pockets.

"You look like hell." He spoke simply but you could hear the worry behind his words.

"Feel like it too. Couldn't sleep, thought I might as well make myself useful." You desperately wanted to be doing something. As tedious as being on watch could be, it was better than staring at the ceiling. Of all the members of the task force Ghost understood that feeling the best, he was all too familiar with sleepless nights.

Ghost studied you for a moment before he sighed and handed you his rifle. “Don’t stay out here all night.”

You nodded but you both knew it was a lie. He left, checking his watch as he descended the stairs back inside. Ghost made a mental note to wake Soap in a few hours if you hadn’t gone back inside by then.

You sat down, one leg dangling over the edge as your rifle lay in your lap. Time passed slowly as your eyes scanned the darkness.

The traveling nature of your mind tended to be the worst while on watch. Alone, stuck staring out into the endless scenery waiting for something, or nothing, to happen. Your body anticipates a fight that may or may not come leaving your skin practically buzzing with anxious energy and your mind in a constant state of fight.

The moon continued its slow descent as your mind insisted on replaying their fatal moments.

You rubbed at your eyes Desperately trying to stay alert to any movement around you. Looking up at the sky you spotted a shooting star just as you heard the door open behind you. You tensed for a moment before a familiar face stepped through.

“Thought Ghost was on watch tonight?” Soap spoke as he approached, he sat across from you on the ledge mirroring your position, and then handed a thermos to you. You eagerly took a sip from it, the fresh coffee instantly warming your cold body.

“Couldn’t sleep so I relieved him.” You shrugged and handed the thermos back to him. “What are you doing up this late? Well, early I guess at this point.”

“My bed was awfully lonely.”

“Tattled on me didn’t he?”

“Aye.” He smirked for a moment before his expression shifted to worry. “When was the last time you slept?”

You shrugged again knowing it was useless to lie to him, the state of your features spoke for themselves. “Been a while.”

“Love,” He scooted closer placing a hand on your knee. “you need to get some rest.”

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes as yours began to well up. “All I see is their faces, John. They were terrified. I was supposed-” Your voice broke as tears started to fall, Soap reached up and gently wiped a tear away with his thumb. “I was supposed to protect them and I failed.”

“You did everything you could, Y/n. Their deaths are not your fault it’s on the bastards who shot ‘em.” Soap closed the distance between you two, wrapping his arms tightly around you as you cried. He placed a hand on your head as he held you close to his chest and slowly rocked you both. All the pent-up emotions and exhaustion finally broke through and you were helpless against it all.

“I’m here, love.” He spoke against your hair.

“I hate this part.” Your voice came out in a small whisper against his chest.

“I know, me too.” He didn’t bother telling you it gets easier. In your line of work, death was a constant shadow lurking behind all of you. Instead, he held you, reassuring you that he would always be there to help you through.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in his arms. His hold never waivered even after your cries had subsided. Eventually, you broke it, sitting up to look into his eyes. You could stare into them for hours, to you they held every answer.

After a moment you spoke. “You always know what to do.”

“Funny, I’m usually saying that about you.” He smiled, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

The door opened once again this time Price walked through with his rifle strapped to his chest. “On your feet lovebirds, I'm taking over.”

“I’ve still got a few hours in me, sir.” You spoke and both men shot you a look.

“Nope time for bed, love.” Soap spoke putting an arm around your shoulders and leading you toward the door.

“Go get some rest.” Price patted your shoulder as you passed him. He said nothing about your puffy eyes as he moved past you and approached the ledge where you had been perched. He pulled a cigar from his vest, and as he lighted it he yelled back to you and Soap. “And no funny business, kids.”

Your face instantly turned red and Soap laughed at the sight.

“Aye sir!” Soap yelled back to the captain before turning toward you as he opened the door. “You heard him no funny business, Y/n.”

“Pretty sure that was directed toward you big boy.” You smiled as a deep laugh roared from his chest and you could feel the weight begin to lift off yours.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #mactavsh

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just-a-sleepy-idiot · 1 year

Text

Supernatural Crowley Drabble: Meeting each other for the first time in the Bunkers kitchen

Content/Warning: Gender neutral Winchester! Reader, Post Apocalypse Setting

Dedicated to @gabriels-wings-of-freedom 💚 I love our Headcanon brainstorms! And I always look forward to your writing

You were new to the life of a hunter, new to the small family that you didn’t knew you had. They reluctantly took you in, not wanting to have your life ruined like hunting wrecked theirs.

But after your brothers fought off several monsters that seemed to have gotten the Update on the Family tree as well they knew there was no going back for you.

Still, they tried to keep you seperated from what they were doing to avoid further harm coming your way. They taught you all they knew, Dean showed you how to handle yourself in a fight and how to shoot a gun and Sam taught you everything he knew about Monsters and how to kill them.

It was.. a lot, especially since you were made aware that almost everything was real out there. Witches, Werewolves and.. Angels and Demons and even Gods. Like, other, numerous gods!! But they assured you that you wouldn’t need to worry, they would be there to destroy every mitherfucker who dared to cross their little sibling. You were wary, but hopeful of that promise.

They taught you all about their job, but what they didn’t fully tell you was their own, messy history with the reigns of the world. Their involvement with Michael and Lucifer.. they only mentioned it briefly and that also only several months of being with them. You didn’t press on yet. Your brothers went through a lot of pain. You could see it in the way Deans eyes would loose all color, and the way Sams gaze lost itself when you had speculated what Hell might be like.

You didn’t know a lot about the things that went down, only that they adverted an impending Apocalypse. But now they still got plenty of stuff on their plate, they always did. You supported them back from the Bunker when they were out hunting and helped thdm look for jobs when they were here.

The boys were here for a while, you took advantage of that to spend some time together with them and watched trashy action movies with them. After an evening of doing so you woke up at 3AM with the munchies and went to go to the kitchen in an oversized shirt and your underwear.

You expected to snatch some left over fast food from Dean or some greens from Sam from the fridge, but what you certainly didn’t expect to find in the kitchen was a.. man. Like a man in a black suit just standing there drinking a glass of Scotch.

You squinted at him in the dim light and rubbed your eyes, he raised his brows in amusement when he saw you. He only just found out that the Winchesters had another sibling but.. he didn’t expect that person to be you. His lips twitched up when he saw that messy hair, the sleepy face and the oversized clothing.

„Umm.. so.. who are you? I don’t suppose you also came here for a late night snack.“

You tilted your head to the side and moved around the table, cautiously getting closer to the knife block. It might not be useful but it was better that having nothing on your hands.

He chuckled and leaned over, putting his hands in his pockets. „Who do you think I am?“

You shrugged and leaned back against the counter, hand resting near the knife block.

„You‘re sassy so.. I think you might be some demon.“

He feigned offense and put a hand on his chest, „Some demon? You‘re speaking to the Manager.“ He gave you a look and opened the fridge, rummaging through it before getting out some eggs.

„Well..“ you replied, „Where can I send in my complaints? Some of your staff has been trying to kill me.“ You eyed him with a frown and watched him get out a pan as well. What the hell..

„That’s why I‘m here. See it as a inaugural visit. I have some sort of a past with your brothers but I think you might just be the gateaway to new relations.“

You raised your brows and watched him put the pan on the stove and cracking the eggs in it, he looked around and you quietly handed him the salt after a moment if silence. He held it up with a smile,

„See, we‘re already starting off strong.“ He started cooking and you blinked at him with a frown. There was a demon in your kitchen, cooking eggs? At 3 AM? That might just be the weirdest experience ever since you found out about this whole supernatural beings thing.

„You might be asking yourself why you would even need relations to a Demon. But your brothers and now you always get caught up in the crossfire. There‘s no side that you can completely rely on so it‘s good to have a backup from Hell, don’t you think?“

You let your hand slide away from the knife block, still frowning.

„…You‘re kinda a good Salesman.“ You noted and he chuckled darkly, shooting you a look before handing you some Oranges.

„Thats why I was King of the Crossroads and why I am now the King of Hell. Marketing is everything.“ He said with a wink, prompting a small, confused smile to appear on your lips.

You took the Oranges and started cutting them in half, you had no idea why you were apparently making breakfast with a demon, but you didn’t really question it at this day and hour.

„I‘m Y/n..“ you now introduced yourself. The delicious smell of Omelet started to flood the kitchen. You made Orange juice next to him. What a weird night. „I‘m Crowley, pleased to meet you.“

He put the food on a plate and set in down on the table. „Bon appetit. I‘ll be off then..“ He was about to snap his fingers when you stopped him, „Wait! Stay..“ he raised in brows with a surprised smile, you sat down and crossed your legs on the chair. „Tell me what it’s like to be demon.“

He chuckled and sat down opposite you,

„Why, interested in an application?“ You shot him a look and he turned his head a little, „Well..“

you slid him the orange juice and slowly started eating your Omelet. „Continue, please.“ He looked from the glass to you with a small smile. Crowley observed you with interest, that Winchester was certainly something else.

He took the glass. „Alright.“

I hope you liked it!!

#crowley x reader #spn crowley #supernatural crowley #supernatural crowley x reader #supernatural x reader

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fun-n-fashion · 2 years

Text

ok but like what if someone points out to Dream that even if he is now open to calling Hob his friend without having to yeet himself out of the window out of sheer embarrassment that he still has a massive imbalance of knowing basically everything about Hob while Hob basically knows nothing about him and in trying to rectify this Dream nearly inflicts eldritch madness on Hob because instead of using his damn words he instead tries to make it all up in one go by being like “ingest this grain of sand and it will give you deep insight into me as a person”

and Hob, being Hob, is like “are you sure it’s safe?” and Dream is like “yeah, obviously” and is maybe a little shirty ‘cause Hob doesn’t trust him maybe????

So Hob just shrugs and eats the sand and nearly has his mind shredded because Dream forgot that human minds do have actual limitations and that they don’t have even close to the same sensory organs and that despite sharing less than a microsecond of his own experience it is quite literally more than Hob can reasonably be expected to bear

and Delirium shows up and is the closest thing to sane she has been in a long time and is all “what the fuck, i thought you liked this one????”

and Dream has to scramble to neutralize his sand before Hob gets too damaged.

and then Hob is in a coma for like a week while his brain sorts out the experience and decides what absolutely has to go for the sake of his sanity and when he wakes up he has only the vaguest recollection of what he saw and a headache that would put a hangover to shame.

and Dream is brooding in his castle ‘cause he fucked up and maybe broke his favorite human and what if Hob decided he didn’t want to be friends after all???

and then he feels Hob wake up and he goes to see him all cautious and sorry and such

and the first thing Hob says to him is something like “no wonder you’re such a sulky git if that’s what you’re dealing with all the time”, obviously teasing even though he’s still got a hand over his eyes and flinches at the sound of his own breathing because the headache is just that bad

and Dream knows he’s forgiven.

He still tries to make it up to Hob though because Hob had an unexpected absence and no one at the university could get a hold of him for a week and this is A Problem in professional circles but he manages to get back in everyone’s good graces by telling them more or less the truth (that he had gotten a head injury and been laid up in a coma) and by seeming very fragile for the first few days back (which is not entirely an act as there are ... echoes of a sort that hit him at odd times) .

he gets better and for all that he now insists on Dream using his words, or at least showing him things in dreams constructed for the minds of humans thank you very much, he does have a much better understanding of the man than he did before.

Perhaps this leads somewhere...

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #The Sandman #netflix the sandman

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floralcyanide · 11 months

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𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part Six (NSFW)

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took.

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it.

AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

warnings: gore, descriptions of a dead body, murder, mentions of murder, coarse language, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), choking, kissing, ass slapping, breast/ nipple play, reminder that reader is afab, so female anatomy is described in this part.

word count: 3037

author's note: here's part six! there's some gore and smut in this one. I was about to end the chapter and couldn't help but add some spice. ((: I hope you all enjoy!! please reblog/ like if you do

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“Something about you is different.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You seem like you got laid. Maybe.”

You scoff at Tyson, rolling your eyes, “Mind your business.”

“So you did get laid, huh? Finally. I was worried you would get your face stuck in a permanent scowl.”

You ignore Tyson, dialing up Sarah Darling’s phone number for the tenth time today. Yesterday evening, you called and texted about the same amount. She always answers her phone unless she’s on set actively acting. So you’re slightly worried about her, especially after the incident with Cotton. Everyone had sort of acted like it didn’t happen for the sake of the movie continuing. However, it’s obviously still on everyone’s minds. You still stare at the chair that used to be his sometimes.

It’s been a few days since the endeavor with Roman, and you try your best not to think about it and focus on work. But every time you see him, you remember that night. It still sends chills up your spine. The last you talked to him was Wednesday, and that’s heavy on your mind too. That evening he called and was so demanding like his adrenaline was high. He had guided you through the most mind-blowing phone sex you’ve ever had. Roman had instructed you on how to touch yourself and how loud to be for him, and he laughed a sick laugh as you came, saying how good you were for him. Thinking about it now while on set has you flustered.

Tyson is conversing with Angelina and Tom as you all sit on the prop stairs of Sidney Prescott’s home, having aimless conversation during your break.

“Has anyone heard from Sarah?” you suddenly ask aloud, interrupting Tom and Tyson’s debate on which coffee cart sandwich was better.

Tyson shakes his head, and Angelina says a quiet “No.” while Tom shrugs.

“Sarah is probably okay. Maybe just hungover,” he says.

“For two days?” you ask, looking at him incredulously, “The last I saw or heard from her was here on Wednesday. It’s now Friday, and nothing.”

“Sarah doesn’t drink like that, Tom,” Angelina says, staring at him like he’s an idiot, “And she would never miss work unless absolutely necessary.”

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn and see Roman heading toward the group, waving you down.

“Yes?” you ask, confused.

“Could you do me a big favor? I need a new Ghostface costume, and the costume director is currently stuck in lunch traffic. Mind going by the costume room and snagging one for me?” Roman smiles.

“Uh, sure?” you say, getting up from the stoop, “See you guys in a sec.”

“That room is hella creepy. I wouldn’t go in there,” Tyson snorts behind you.

“It’s down the stairs and down the long hallway, then to your left. Can’t miss it,” Roman says, walking alongside you momentarily before he lets you continue without him.

The stairwell and long hallway are eerily silent, even with people all over the building. The lights are dimmed like no one has been here for a while. It’s odd. You approach the door you think Roman was referring to, but something is sticking out of the door. The closer you get, the more a pungent smell accumulates in your nose. When you’re a few feet away, that’s when you see a pool of blood on the ground in front of the costume room door. Upon closer inspection, you realize the thing sticking out of the door was, in fact, Sarah Darling. Mangled and stabbed. Glass was sticking out of her body in weird angles, and her eyes were glossed over and milky looking. Dried blood is caked around her open mouth and nose. You cover your mouth to keep from getting physically ill from not just the smell but the sight of Sarah’s dead body. Backing away, you turn and start running back to the set as fast as possible.

“Help!” you scream as soon as you get back to the set, out of breath from sprinting.

“What’s wrong?” Roman runs to you.

“Sarah,” you pant, tears springing to your eyes, “She’s dead,” you gasp.

“What?” Roman freezes, running a hand over his face, “Where?”

“The costume room,” you say, your voice wavering.

Roman pulls you into his chest, comforting you as you cry into his shirt. Everyone is looking at you and has been listening to the conversation. Security starts heading to the costume room, and Sage runs over to you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asks, gently touching your shoulder.

“Sarah Darling,” you say sadly, pulling your face away from Roman’s chest, “I found her.”

Sage’s eyes soften, “Is she okay? I know it’s been a few days since you heard from her.”

You shake your head, “She’s dead.”

“Oh my god,” Sage gasps, “This isn’t good.”

Roman lets go of you, “How about you go sit down, and I go see what’s going on, okay?”

You nod and go with Sage to where the others are still sitting.

“I can’t believe they killed Sarah,” Tom says, lighting a cigarette. He wasn’t supposed to smoke inside, but honestly, you didn’t think anyone would care or notice right now.

Jennifer walks up to the group with Dewey Riley, one of the survivors of the actual Woodsboro Murders.

“Give me that,” Jennifer sneers at Tom, yanking his cigarette from his hand and taking a big drag, “Do you know how long it’s been since I had one of these?”

“You could’ve just asked for your own, you know,” Tom grumbles, getting a new cigarette from the pack.

Dewey grimaces at Jennifer smoking like it’s going out of style.

“Why are you smoking again, Jennifer?” Angelina asks, confused.

Besides Sarah being dead, she couldn’t figure out why Jennifer would act this way. She’s dramatic, but not that dramatic.

“Have you not noticed?” Jennifer motions around her, “I’m next.”

“How exactly are you next?” Tyson asks, his eyebrow raised.

“So far, the killer has killed in the order of who dies in the movie,” Dewey speaks up, “By this rate, Jennifer may be next. All of you should be careful, even you extras.”

You and Sage look at each other, worried.

“Why is that?” you ask Dewey.

“When the killer gets to a certain point, they will kill everyone who gets in their way,” Dewey says, looking down, “It doesn’t matter who you are.”

You gulp, nodding in understanding, “Good to know, I guess.”

Everyone is silent for a moment until you remember something Sarah had said when Cotton died, “It could be anyone.”

Everyone looks at you in horror before their faces turn into sad realization.

“You’re right,” Dewey says, “So trust no one and stay together. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

You wipe your eyes one last time before getting up, walking to the coffee cart, and grabbing a water bottle. It’s a little ways from the group, but you aren’t worried. You need some time to yourself right now after what you have seen.

“Excuse me,” someone walks up to you, and you turn around to see none other than Gale Weathers.

“Yes?”

“Do you work here? I have some questions about Cotton Weary’s death,” Gale asks, digging around in her bag for a notepad.

“I do. I’m an extra. And you should probably know that someone else has died on set, so you may not be allowed here right now,” you wince, looking around to make sure you aren’t about to be swamped by security.

“Someone else has been murdered?” Gale asks, “Who?”

Before you can say anything else, Dewey approaches, “Gale?”

“Dewey? Did you hear about Cotton too?”

“Of course I did. I work on set,” Dewey says, growing frustrated, “Why are you here?”

“Doing my job. And apparently, I came at the right time,” Gale says, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“There’s no press allowed on set,” Dewey snaps.

“Do you see a camera, Dewey?” Gale says snarkily.

“I got you that purse, Gale. Remember?”

Gale awkwardly shifts before flicking her hair behind her shoulder, “Fine. Off the record.”

“Hey!” Roman shouts from the set exit, “You can’t be here!”

Gale sighs, “I guess I gotta go. It was nice seeing you, Dewey. And nice meeting you,” Gale trails off when she faces you.

“Y/N.”

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Sorry about that,” Dewey scratches the back of his neck.

“You’re fine. It’s always weird running into an ex,” you pay his shoulder before walking away from the cart.

Roman stops you before you reach the prop steps, “Can we talk?”

“About what?” you ask, closing your water bottle.

“Come with me to my office.”

You look at Sage, who gives you a funny look.

“I’ll explain later,” you mouth to her, and she nods.

You and Roman go a different way to his office, avoiding the crime scene that is now swarming with police and detectives. Once you arrive, Roman immediately closes the door and locks it, slamming you against it. He presses his lips to yours, quickly turning the kiss into a makeout session.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you pull away, “What did you need to talk to me about?”

With one final peck to your lips, Roman pulls away and walks to his desk chair.

“I think the police are going to question me soon.”

“What for?” you ask.

“Sarah and I were supposed to meet here in my office to go over the script, but I was stuck in traffic and didn’t make it in time for our meeting. But once the police find this out, they will ask questions.”

“I understand. Did you want to tell me this so I wouldn’t be worried?”

“Yes,” Roman says, spinning around in his chair a little, “I didn’t want you to think I was involved because I wasn’t.”

You nod, walking over to Roman, taking his hands into yours, “I don’t think you’re capable of killing someone. You’re too sweet.”

Roman scoffs, “Sweet, huh? Would sweet want to take you right here on this desk? Fuck you doggy style and shove your underwear into your mouth to make you shut up?”

“I’m guessing you’ve thought about that scenario many times,” you chuckle, “But I’m sure people will be looking for us soon.”

“Not if we’re quick,” Roman winks, bringing one of your hands up to his lips and kissing it.

“Fucking at work is really risky, Ro,” you say hesitantly, but the situation he described sounded hot, in all honesty.

Roman just stares up at you, his eyes longing and pupils growing in size. He moves his hands from yours, sliding them up your arms until he reaches your elbows. Roman then lets his hands travel to your hips, shoving his hands up your shirt and running his fingers over your skin. Chills erupt across your body as you watch Roman touch you softly. He secures his hands to your waist, pushing you down until you sit on his lap. Roman pulls your shirt up and off of you, delighted to see you’re braless today.

“All ready for me, hmm?”

“Well, it’s kind of warm today, so,” you shrug, teasing him.

“Whatever you say,” Roman smirks, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples.

You roll your hips, letting your core grind against his through your pants. Your arms are draped on Roman’s shoulders as he bites and sucks your breasts. Continuing to roll your hips, Roman pinches both of the sensitive buds on your chest, pulling on them as you grind harder on him.

“Are you gonna fuck me over the desk or not?” you sigh, wanting some sort of distraction right now as images of Sarah flash behind your eyes occasionally.

Roman picks you up and slams you down on the desk, which is mainly cleared off already. He yanks your pants down your legs, discarding them altogether. Roman kneels behind you, flattening his tongue over your clothed pussy. He licks a stripe up your slit, the small wet patch that was there growing more at the contact. Roman pulls your underwear down and off your legs, too, wasting no time delving his tongue into you. You whine and wiggle your hips against his face, trying your best not to ride it. Roman reaches up and slides in two fingers beside his tongue, lapping up your arousal as he finger fucks you.

“God, Roman. Your fingers feel so good,” you moan, your nipples pressing into the desk at the right angle as Roman plunges his tongue and fingers into you.

“I bet my cock would feel better,” he says, pulling away from you and standing up.

He pulls his pants and underwear down his thighs, pumping his length a few times before lining up with your dripping entrance. You’re on the pill and trust Roman more now, so you don’t worry much about a condom this time around. He slowly pushes into you, and you groan at the feeling of him stretching you out. Your hands grip the edge of the desk, preparing for the moment he starts fucking you. Roman fills you to the hilt, letting himself adjust to your grip before he slides out and then back in. He continues this, going harder and faster with each stroke. Before you know it, you’re being propelled forward against the desk, Roman pounding his cock into you at a delicious pace. He wraps a hand around your throat, giving himself some leverage as he squeezes it.

“Do you like that, kitten? Do you like me fucking you over this desk?”

“Uh huh- fuck,” you moan a little too loudly when Roman hits a spot inside you just right.

Before you can attempt to apologize, Roman has balled up your underwear and shoves it into your open mouth, “Don’t think I didn’t forget that part of my fantasy.”

You moan freely into the fabric, crying out as Roman repeatedly hits that spot. He leans over, letting his hand find your clit as he rubs it vigorously. Roman’s hovered over your back, your ass pressed against his stomach as he fucks you. Letting go of your throat, he lands a smack onto your asscheek, squeezing it and soothing over the red spot. You whine, turning your head to watch him as he mercilessly thrusts his hips forward. Roman has long since ditched his glasses, and his hair is slightly sweaty and hanging in his face. He looks determined and focused, giving his all as he slams his body forward into yours.

“So good for me. Your pretty pussy is so tight. I love wearing it out,” Roman leans over you and whispers in your ear, knowing you can’t reply.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach tightens into a knot, your legs beginning to shake. Roman grips your ass as he starts rubbing your clit rapidly, causing you to let out a long groan that doesn’t seem to let up the closer your orgasm gets. You’re panting and grunting into your balled-up underwear as you clench around Roman, causing him to twitch inside you.

“Are you gonna cum for me? Hmm?” Roman growls, smacking your ass again, “Cum for me, baby.”

Your body relaxes, and you feel yourself gush with a deep, animalistic groan as Roman hits your g spot dead-on and rubs your clit just right.

“Fuck,” you cry, bucking your hips with Roman’s as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your pussy still convulsing and squirting, causing Roman to tip over the edge.

“Christ,” he bites his lip, watching his cock pump you full of his cum as squelching noises fill the room.

You catch your breath, removing the underwear from your mouth, “Sorry for making a mess.”

“It was well worth it,” Roman sighs, running his hand down your back and over your ass, “Think you could do it again?”

You laugh an exhausted laugh, “I don’t know, Ro.”

“Come on, I know you’ve got more in you,” Roman says, flipping you over on your back.

“Fine, you can try,” you sigh, pushing your hips until they’re at the edge of the desk.

Roman licks his lips before circling your sensitive clit with his tongue, lapping at it. You whine, trying not to move around from overstimulation. Roman presses an arm over your stomach, holding you down as he lightly rubs the bundle of nerves with two fingers. You thrust against his fingers, and Roman speeds up, gradually adding fingers until his whole hand rubs your pussy as fast as he can. You’re moving your hips along Roman’s hand as he rubs you, feeling another orgasm on the horizon.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, Roman,” you warn, your body convulsing from the overstimulation.

You roll your nipples between your fingers as you feel yourself release, and Roman hurries to put his mouth over you. Seeing him swallowing up your squirt makes you gush more, tears burning in your eyes as he runs his tongue over your clit softly, urging you to cum more. You cry out as you jerk around, a third orgasm approaching. You’re fucked out, but it feels so good having Roman eat out your sensitive cunt. He sticks his tongue inside you again, rubbing tight circles on your clit as you cum for a third time. Roman laps up as much as he can, licking you clean before he stands up. His face glistens with your arousal, and you laugh weakly as he wipes his face.

“What?” he asks, leaning over you, his hands running along your body.

“You look good with my cum all over your face,” you say daringly, placing your hands on both of Roman’s cheeks as he dips his head down to yours.

He hums before kissing you open-mouthed, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s kind of hot, and if your body would allow it, you’d totally be turned on again. But you’re about to melt into the desk by this point.

“Let’s get you dressed,” Roman pulls away, gathering your clothes for you, “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, but,” you trail off, avoiding Roman’s gaze, “I can still see her every time I close my eyes.”

taglist:

@bridgergf @crinimalmindsfan13 @oddlittleminx @axen-gers @alwayslilithnevreve @belovedtylerr @bonbekahsfav @elliotss @jokersgrf @snazzynacho @sonyaswife @cobra-kaii @im-a-slut-for-this-man2 @nicepeony @wqndasdarkkhold @justacosplayerlol

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shieldofiron · 1 year

Text

Billy Hargrove’s Haunted Bong

For Harringrove Week March 29, Happy Billyday! Also on AO3 Here.

Specific Dialogue: “You don’t know what you put me through.”

NSFT-ish, just at the end.

Steve feels a little awkward picking through Billy Hargrove’s stuff. His dad’s gone, and now Max and her Mom are moving, they need to get rid of the excess, he knows that. There’s some of Billy’s dad’s stuff here, too, though a lot of it has been picked over by the neighborhood moms, trying to get shoes for their husbands and stuff.

There’s less of a market for teenage boy stuff, though Tommy has a few button downs slung over his arm, and apparently Max unloaded a bunch of Billy’s tapes on ‘The Freak’ Eddie Munson.

Steve is really here more as a favor to Max. He doesn’t know what he would do with a Scorpions t-shirt, or a stack of books. Who knew that Billy read so much, anyway?

Max walks over and crosses her arms, “Hey. Want you to see something.”

He shrugs, tossing the paperback he was never going to buy back in a pile, “Ok.”

Max leads him up the stairs and into the half packed house and into a mostly empty room. There’s a bed that’s been stripped, and a small cardboard box, open and half full on it. Steve catches a glimpse of a few tapes inside, and a handful of clothes. Maybe it’s stuff they’re saving.

Max holds up two cans of Aquanet, “Do you want these? I’ll give them to you for a dime.”

Steve fights to keep his face neutral, “Uh, not my brand. But thanks.”

“How about this?” She holds up a bottle of cologne, Paco Rabanne.

He shrugs, “Sure. How much?” This is probably fine, a non-weird thing to get, anyway.

“Uh... a quarter?” She says distractedly while he glances down to dig in his pocket for change. “And what about this?”

He looks up and almost chokes on his spit. It is without a doubt the biggest bong he’s seen in person.

“Put that down!” He says.

She scowls, “What’s your problem?”

“N-nothing. Didn’t Eddie want that?” Steve really would feel better if she put it down. Maybe stepped away from it too.

“He took the other one,” She shrugs, “Why? What’s wrong with it? It’s just a vase.”

Right. Just a vase.

He snatches it from her hands, just wanting to get it out of the house, “How much?”

“Uh... a dollar. No! Two dollars!” She cries.

He rolls his eyes, because this thing is probably expensive as shit, but he just wants it out of her house.

“Sure,” He pulls a couple of bucks out of his wallet, “I’ll see you, okay?”

She nods, counting the money, “You want your change?”

“No, nope, just gonna head right home,” And smash this thing to pieces, he thinks.

He hops in the beemer, throwing his vase across the passenger’s seat along with the cologne. It really is enormous, blue swirling glass that would be kind of pretty if it wasn’t dirty with old bong water and stuff.

“Never let it be said I never did anything for you, Hargrove,” He grumbles, eyes searching the road wildly.

He turns the corner off Cherry Lane, shaking his head.

“I mean, whatever. I didn’t like... jump in front of a monster. Though I did. For Max, I mean,” He tightens his hands on the wheel, “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

He glances down at the bong and the cologne.

He shakes his head, “You would think I was high already.”

The bong glints in the afternoon sunlight, reflecting the blue skies out the window and the slowly turning leaves.

“You know my birthday is tomorrow,” Steve says, to no one. “I guess I could have one smoke. Just to see what I’m missing.”

The sunlight glints, and it’s almost like a wink.

He’s going crazy, that’s the only explanation for why he heads home and takes the bong into his house instead of throwing it away. He dumps the old water in the sink, trying to take it apart so he can rinse it out. He might actually catch some kind of disease smoking out of this thing, considering Billy died in July and it’s halfway through January.

He shakes his head at himself, dunking the bong into the water and rubbing the side, trying to take off the film of hairspray and weed smoke that’s formed a crust along the sides. Probably he won’t smoke from it. It’s a lost cause.

The bong trembles in his hands and he rears back into the kitchen island, soapy water splashing everywhere. Blue smoke comes from the top, pale denim blue that swirls in the air and shifts and then...

Billy fucking Hargrove is sitting on the edge of his kitchen sink.

He looks much the same as he always did, shirtless, tanned and perfect with a necklace glinting from his chest. Winking in the sunlight.

“Harrington,” He says with a smile.

“H-holy shit.” Maybe Steve is high. How did he get this high and he doesn’t even remember smoking?

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Billy’s eyes sparkle, electric blue. Were they always that blue, glowingly blue? They look like Kyle McLaughlin’s eyes in that freaky movie Dustin dragged Steve to a few weeks ago.

“This is not happening,” Steve shakes his head, “This isn’t happening.”

Billy laughs, full and open, and then the blue smoke is back, smelling like Paco Rabanne and cigarettes and Aquanet, swirling through the air.

“What do you wish for, Pretty Boy?” Billy’s voice sounds like it’s coming from right in Steve’s ear, but when he looks, the Billy on his counter is just smiling mischievously.

“Uhhh...”

Billy disappears and the smoke surrounds Steve. He clings to the countertop, the only thing that feels solid. Smoke slides along his face and arms, like a caress.

“Make a wish,” Billy’s voice beacons, “Birthday Boy.”

“I-if I blow hard enough, will you disappear?” Steve mumbles, not sure what kind of weird dream this is.

“If you blow?” Billy whispers, his tongue sliding along his lower lip teasingly.

“What are you?”

“You’ve never heard of a genie? Djinn is more accurate,” Billy’s voice is behind him now, along the back of Steve’s neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. Billy hums and it takes Steve a few moments before he picks out the theme to I Dream of Jeannie. “Should I call you, Master?”

“It’s not real,” Steve half laughs, “You died. I saw you die.”

“Where did the body go, Harrington? Disappeared... like smoke...” Billy appears in front of him, sudden and solid, “Poof.”

“You’re not a genie, though,” Steve shakes his head, “They aren’t real.”

“Try me, Harrington,” Billy smiles, eyes blazing.

“Uh...” Steve blinks at Billy’s face, so very close. He’s had dreams like this. Billy Hargrove, close and within reach, kind and laughing and oh so kissable.

“Go on,” Billy’s chin juts forward, and its so much like Steve’s dreams, he gives in. Maybe it is a dream. A weird one, but one of his regular dreams.

“Is it a three wishes kind of deal?” He asks.

Billy shrugs, “Dunno. I came to in a van full of shouting Russians who shoved green liquid down my throat. And then smoke poured out of my mouth, my ears, my eyes, and I turned into... this. Tried to go home, get Max’s attention. But then I got sucked into that thing when I got too close.”

Steve stares at him, at his lips actually. Is it nighttime already, or is it just the smoke swirling around?

“S.S. Butterscotch,” He mumbles.

“What?”

“I want a scoop of Scoops Ahoy S. S. Butterscotch,” Steve chokes, “Haven’t had it since the mall... uh...”

Billy puts a hand behind his back and winks at Steve, sending an electric bolt of lust down his spine.

“Your wish is my command,” Billy pulls his hand out and there’s a waffle cone stacked with a single scoop of S. S. Butterscotch, as smooth and round as if Steve had done it himself.

Billy raises it up to Steve’s lips, his eyes going dark and cloudy blue when Steve licks along the top. A shiver runs down his spine from the top of his head, making his knees weak.

“Oh, Harrington. You don’t know what you put me through,” Billy smiles, “Never thought I’d see you again. Never.”

Steve blinks, his mouth swirling with the flavor he’s been craving since Starcourt.

Steve finally manages to dig his claws out of the counter and reaches out, knocking the cone to the side. Well, it’s his dream. He might as well get to do what he wants.

Billy Hargrove tastes like woodsmoke and butterscotch and he groans into Steve’s mouth like he’s real, like he’s oh so human again.

Blue smoke trails up Steve’s spine like a featherlight touch, and he trembles, falling forward, hands digging into Billy’s hair. He’s always dreamed about boys and girls, he’s always had a lot of sex dreams, but they never felt like this.

Billy’s chest is warm, though there’s no heartbeat. But his tongue is wet and wicked and alive, and tendrils of smoke are curling against Steve’s overheated skin while Billy’s fingers dig into his hips. Holy shit.

Steve groans when Billy begins to slowly drag his hands to the placket of Steve’s jeans, teasing along the buttons. His tongue is teasing the inside of Steve’s lips, turning all of his thoughts to liquid lust.

Then Billy disappears into smoke and laughter, and invisible hands trail along Steve’s cock, under his jeans... through his jeans...

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, hips working. “Don’t stop.”

“Feel good?” Billy’s voice is somewhere on the ceiling.

“Fuck, yes, B-Billy... fuck...”

“Wanna make you feel so good,” Billy says softly, his voice crackling like a flame, “Wanna make you cream your jeans.”

Steve is embarrassingly close to that already, “R-Revenge?”

“For all the times you turned me on in class? No. But good guess,” Billy practically purrs when a smoky finger flicks the head of Steve’s cock and Steve cries out.

Steve gasps, “T-then...”

“Haven’t touched anyone in six months,” Billy laughs, and it echoes off all the polished surfaces of the Harrington’s pristine kitchen. “And you’re so touchable.”

Steve closes his eyes before they roll back in his head and makes an inarticulate noise, “Fuck, Billy... I’m... I’m... g-gonna...”

Billy’s corporeal in a moment, hand pressed over the invisible fingers, pressing Steve’s cock hard into his stomach, a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Come on, Pretty Boy. Get there.”

Steve’s orgasm bursts through him like a wildfire, and he screams into Billy’s shoulder, pressing his mouth against flexing muscle in a vain attempt to silence himself. Blood roars in his ears and he passes out into Billy’s waiting arms. He half expects to go right through them, but they catch him, sure and steady.

When he wakes up, his eyes are blurry and his body is blissed out, floating like it hasn’t since Starcourt. He sits up in his bed and looks around the room but there’s no one there.

Oh shit. It really was a dream. He bites down the bitterness and looks down at the bed beside him.

It’s the bong, gleaming and blue, glass colors swirled together like smoke. The morning light glints off the edge. Like a wink.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” The voice rumbles through the room and Steve closes his eyes. Wishes he was dreaming.

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #Djinn! Billy Hargrove #Supernatural Au #Harringroveweek #billysbirthdaybonanza #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #lemon

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