#this is my wish fulfillment fic for house painting

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter i

florence fickelgruber, the famed chocolatier's idealistic young wife, ponders her past, her regrets, and her longing for a change. guess what? she finds one.

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~1.7k

chapter one is a shit ton of exposition for the character, but i promise you, dear timothee fans, the content you're here for is coming. i tried to capture the dahl style of storytelling (without, yknow, the racism and fatphobia and all that) which was so fun. this character essentially popped into my head last night, and the story will follow her development through the plot of the movie. after i left the theater, i realized i'd painted my nails to match mat’s costumes without realizing, and then suddenly WHOOM there she was. almost like magic. :)

enjoy!!

(also. even if the cartel’s offices don’t actually have balconies, THEY DO NOW.)

part two fic masterlist

"Free if you Truly Wish to Be", or, "the Chronicles of the Songbird", being a Tale of She who is Truly one Wren Matterson, but More Widely Known-at the Start of our Plot-as one Florence Fickelgruber.

Things were…fine.

In a world such as this one, there was very little luxury for a girl such as herself to hatch, nurture, and follow a dream. It would spark up in the purest of fashions and launch onto its way, glittering with promise of a life’s hopes fulfilled, only for the world around it to force it down a path of compromise and disillusionment until the dream’s poor follower found it nearly unrecognizable.

Such was the lot of Mrs. Florence Fickelgruber’s passion for performance. Long before either of these names were attached to her, she knew she longed to spend her life swept up in poetry and music, creating a better world through the arts she loved.

That dream, she often swore to herself, had not died.

It had simply…not turned out as planned.

For now, at least.

For a little over the past two years, more specifically.

It would have been nice to have the means and time to try to make her own fortune, to experience a sweeping romance with someone her own age, to live in a world fair enough that allowed her to both support her now-faraway family and live according to her ideals; it would have been nice indeed.

But for now, life was not quite nice, but fine. The sleekly fonted Fs that monogrammed nearly every surface in the mansion in which she lived had stood during the beginning months for her husband’s, and now her own, alliterative names. Now, she only saw them as golden signifiers of things being nothing more than Fine.

She was currently perched on an emerald-colored fainting couch in her husband’s office that, despite its plush craftsmanship, had lost any semblance of comfort long ago. She sat, and she considered the striking portrait of the two of them that hung over the fireplace, which they’d posed for when she’d still thought this was a good idea: a self-satisfied smirk rested on his face, and her emerald-manicured hand rested on his chest (intended by her to show her devotion, intended by the artist to show her ornate ring). She sat, and she looked into the hall, and she sat, and she stared out the window for a time, and she sat. Eventually, she picked up a set of paper and an emerald-set quill.

“What’s that you’re writing, darling?” came Felix’s voice from across the room, and she nearly sighed in annoyance, a direct contrast to the way her head snapped toward the sound.

There shouldn’t be a melody to that voice, she thought. Not when he only seems to initiate conversation at the exact moments I’ve decided to do something for myself.

“To the opera house,” she responded as he entered the room.

“Again? I thought they’d rejected you.”

“On the grounds that they were scared to hire me, they said, lest they write my role not fully to your liking and lose their concessions wares because of it.”

“Pish, posh.”

“Do you think, my love,” she asked, standing and moving to him, “that…well, would you dictate something I can write here, to reassure them? They’ll take your word over mine.”

“There wouldn’t be a point,” he said flippantly. “Besides, they’re right. Just keep singing for my radio commercials, darling; the customers love it. I can’t imagine you needing anything else. They’re installing our new grand piano next week, you can have all the little fun you’d like on that…”

Throughout this speech, he’d been digging through the pockets of his impeccably tailored blazer, eventually producing a cigarette.

“Give me a light, pet?”

She gritted her teeth as she lit his cigarette, and he brought it to his lips with a smile. She hated when he called her that.

It used to make her feel…wanted, wanted when nobody else did.

Now it just felt…

“I want to share my work,” she said, pushing aside the previous thoughts and pushing forward the previous conversation. “I want to have a genuine impact on the world.”

“And you will, I swear it. Once Fickelgruber Chocolate’s advertisements started using your voice, sales went up nearly twenty percent, and they’re only growing; if that’s not impact, what is?”

With that, he kissed her before she could give an answer-there was a time I would have romanticized that taste of cigarette smoke-took the half-finished letter, folded it so crisply it nearly ripped, and tossed it into the gold-leaf wastebasket.

“Felix-”

“Just wait until the new radio spots are released. It’ll be marvelous, darling.”

She should have known this was how it would be.

It had seemed too good to be true in the moment. To receive, after a performance in her home city, not only the praises of a world-famous chocolatier but also an offer to travel to and perform in his world-famous city, and later a proposal-albeit more businesslike than romantic-to be set for life, to provide for her struggling family; although, she’d come to learn, her husband would have wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her if he had known of her humble origins.

He’d just never bothered to ask.

Well, save for once-

“I assume you come from a good family?”

“Oh, yes, they’re the warmest souls you could ever-”

“Wonderful.”

I grew up nowhere near those obsessions with reputation; how was I to know he meant “good” in that sense?

Before she truly knew him, she had liked him. Felix was undeniably smart, and not unhandsome; she thought him to have a solid wit and an intriguing way of speech, with eyes and hands that would have been attractive on a kinder man. The clean lines and deep green hues that seemed to follow him everywhere suited her well, and she used to have reason to believe that association with him might give her a platform to create positive change, that he saw her as an equal in ambition and intellect.

Once they were married, once she’d seen him with the rest of his Cartel and realized the depth of his disdain, arrogance, classism, and general apathy for anything that was not himself, that reason to believe had dwindled faster than a sweet drop of hot chocolate on a waiting tongue.

…Not to mention that I could practically see him almost rescind his proposal when he learned I’m lactose intolerant.

But she’d suffered through the resulting throataches and occasional days of less-than-stellar singing that came with the barrage of dairy-filled sweets as she was announced to the world as the famed chocolatier’s fiancee, telling their story (which Felix embellished quite often) to the press over and over again.

“Yes, that’s right,” she remembered him saying on the television broadcast that announced the engagement, “my little songbird has finally found her golden cage.”

She had winced, forced to make it seem like a smile in the face of the blinding sea of flashbulbs. That had been the first moment in which she couldn’t ignore the deeper feeling that this was wrong, and she wondered if anyone watching would notice her flash of pain.

What she didn’t know was that, thousands of miles away, in the middle of a far-off ocean, a boy on a ship had been holding a tiny transmission screen (assisted somewhat by magic in order to obtain a stronger signal), eager to see the news about one of his idols, and that, despite his core tendency to give the benefit of the doubt, that idol lost a bit of his respect that day.

I shouldn’t have done this.

But if my family was still starving, all because I wanted to wait for someone kinder, someone who’d support my dreams, I couldn’t forgive myself.

She was startled from her thoughts by a shout calling from below the office, followed by…

A song.

Felix discarded his cigarette and went to the window, posturing into a lean against its frame, and Florence followed. His arm slunk around her waist, so her hand found its way to his chest; it was the portrait pose again, the frozen frame, the unspoken understanding.

I do love acting.

But I don’t know how much longer I can take a life of…offstage performances.

The boy in the center of the Galeria, though, seemed not to be putting on a persona for the crowd, but rather infusing his entire soul into his song to them. He was indeed meaning to sell something, but his passion for it shone brightly in a way she’d never seen from a businessman, present company included. The people that were starting to surround this young man hailed from all walks of life, and he beamed at them all with the same sunlit smile.

With a flourish, he opened the lid of the jar of candy that he held, and-

Oh!-

Each piece of chocolate had flown from its container and flitted into the air, leading to a gasp of delight from the crowd. Florence was able to suppress her own squeal, but couldn’t stop a flex of the hand, involuntarily causing her to grasp her husband’s tie.

“Don’t worry, pet,” Fickelgruber said, clearly misunderstanding his wife’s reaction, and with the tone of his voice clearly opposite of his words. “His charm over them will be…short-lived. Our business is perfectly safe.”

The boy finished his song to rapturous applause, and it took every ounce of Florence’s theatrical training to keep from joining it. She felt a shift next to her, and looked to the side to see her husband making pointed eye contact with his colleagues in their respective offices. The smirk that used to set her soul aflame-before she’d learned what it could mean-formed slowly across his face.

“Florence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Go home.”

“I-”

“We’ll take care of him. Go home.”

Saying this, he left her side and swiftly went out of the office, presumably to join forces with the rest of the Cartel in terrorizing the poor young man.

The moment Felix’s presence could no longer be felt, Florence let out a breath.

Turning back to the window, she considered the boy, who was wholly wrapped up in the joy of his work having an impact on those who witnessed it.

Tentatively, and with the slight smile of a small rebellion, she turned the window’s handle and stepped out onto the office’s balcony.

She wouldn’t let his light be dimmed in the same way she thought hers was.

And she would certainly not go home.

#wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mat baynton x reader #mathew baynton x reader #fiytwtb #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic

[banes-favourite]

What do you think Gortash’s relationship with Bane is like? Do they converse often and how? How loyal and willing is Gortash’s service to him?

Hmm honestly I could see it going either way. I've seen some excellent ideas suggest that Bane is simply a means to an end for Gortash as he's planning on becoming akin to a god himself. But personally, I am a sucker for religious trauma so I like to believe they're actually pretty close.

Bane saw how resilient and brilliant young Gortash was, how there was much potential in him should he be allowed to flourish. So, true to his manipulative tactics, he sent Banists into the House of Hope to treat him with kindness and gain his trust. Ironically, they'd be the only ones who didn't treat him like dirt but rather taught the gospel of Bane to him and, when he was intent to listen, would sneak him a gift or potion of healing.

Gortash was so interested, even from the beginning. His parents hadn't been too religious so he hadn't been taught much of anything on the subject, but Bane's gospel aligned so much with his own world views. So, he learned to trust those with the Mask, seek them out even, thirsty for knowledge. And seeing how perceptive he was to his ideas, Bane probably came to him for the first time in a dream and instructed him on what to do in order to escape the House. It worked, obviously, so Gortash in a way felt obligated to devote himself to him. Every act of cruelty he carried on from then on was done in Bane's name and it didn't take long for him to be donned the title of Chosen.

I think their relationship would be interesting because they really are working for the exact same goals. All Gortash wants is to have peace and safety of mind in the city (and by extention, all of Faerun), something which can only be accomplished by a strict authoritative hand; so what if said hand is painted black, in the name of his god? They both crave power and the ultimate control, Gortash seeing it as a means for the greater good.

I don't think they'd converse too often tbh, Gortash is super good at his job and Bane provides the powers he needs freely. The closest he'd feel to him would be the times he's at the Temple, delivering sermons, conducting punishments and sacrifices. If they do need to speak, Bane visits him in dream and if he ever fucks up, Bane sends him nightmares, mostly consisting of being trapped back in the HoH.

The only time Gortash has truly felt he's fucked up is when he realises his feelings for Durge, which he's certain Bane will disapprove of because Bhaal's wishes will need to be fulfilled from Durge's hand and they go directly against what Bane wants. I have a fic about his self-punishment for this very idea if you haven't checked it out already lol.

(also slightly unrelated but I fucking adore those Bane x Gortash fics/artwork, if anyone has any links pls send em my way)

#but yeah I'd say he's loyal #i mean he's kind of in life debt to bane #gotta be a good little tyrant for him #bg3 #anon #asks #gortash #enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 gortash #durgetash #bane

[janovavalen]

—goddamn! ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

aegon II targaryen x niece!reader

ㆍ୨୧ㆍshort story au

—part one — two — three — coming soon

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ summary: the two of aegon and y/n never got along. never—all until aegon catches the oh so wonderful, sweetheart y/n targaryen at a club.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍword count! 4138

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ warnings! drugs (cocaine, alcohol, weed) typical targaryen incest, small obsessive/obsession if you squint, smut, arranged marriage

fix idea from this tt edit <3

this fic will not follow the story line/plot of HOD! although i made up this au, i do not own house of dragon nor do i own the series, books, and characters! all rights go to HBO.

the night was brisk, dark and foggy. but the club was warm, stuffy and loud. aegon and aemond who had been dragged along to a environment he would have never stepped foot into was crowded by the large crowd of drunk and high dancers.

this, this was aegons environment. the fact nobody gave a fuck about what they did and who saw. openly doing drugs, openly fucking in the darkened corners of the room.

drug dealers and their buyers trading in the dance floor or even at the bar itself which wa not shunned upon. here, everyone was who they wanted to be from their shitty roles and life and jobs. free to be openly horny, high and drunk.

‘i wish to leave…desperately.’ aemond tightens his hands around each other as he looked at the the people as he groaned in disgust.

‘loosen up little brother we’ve just arrived. go fuck a whore maybe you’ll loosen up a bit in the body and mind’ aegon smirked while he walked to the bar and made his eyes dance over the females who smiled and blushed at him. flattering their way not only to his pockets but what’s behind his pants.

licking his bottom lips as he perched his forearms along the dark black counter of the bar. the bartender behind it was a woman who wore a skintight red dress and dark makeup with blonde hair that's curly and messy.

‘hi darling what would you like?’ she asked. her voice is smooth and sweet.

‘give me the strongest you got baby, make it cold, okay?’ he tilted his head a bit with a pinned up eyebrow and a small smile. she smiled back and nodded slowly while turning around, making sure she pressed her butt.

he noticed of course. he was a man who noticed any and everything a female tried and would offer him. their body, their mind, their purity. he wasn’t one to ask for it more of received it when they put forth into it. giving up everything they believed to fulfill the overbearing lust.

he did the same. with lust, alcohol, sometimes drugs even but he never gave a second thought about it because who really would when they’re happy with what they’re doing.

happy, to get away from possibilities, family, emotions that they don’t even understand.

a little later, the woman placed down the drink, the coldness of it dripping from her hands that extracted from the cup being gripped behind her pale hands and colorful fingernails painted the rainbow.

‘thanks love—what’s your name by the way?’ he asked as she blushed and pushed herself against the bar she stood behind with a smile.

‘amy, what about yours handsome?’

‘aegon…what you doing working in a place like this, huh? a beautiful woman like you should be in the most fine establishment, taking the orders of high class woman and men and getting tipped fabulously not by lowlifes who only seem to have money for drugs and beer’

her smile started to show more prominent as the brush on her face rose. tucking the hair behind her pierced ear—‘is that what you are then? huh?’

he simple shrugged before going jack to his brother who was suffering the sweet talks of a drunken woman with dark hair.

‘ah look my brother is growing up, speaking to your first woman huh?’ aegon wrapped his arm around aemond’s shoulder who stiffened his stature and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in our torture.

‘i’m leaving—‘

‘no no no! don’t leave, stay here. be present, have fun. get drunk—forget about the family for a while—‘

‘if that’s what you do and if my outcome of this will lead to how you are now i don’t want that. sorry but i want to leave with or without you.’

aegon felt his jaw clutch at the fact aemond wasn’t giving up at all. his grip on his brothers neck tightened—‘shut the fuck up and sit here like a little pussy then. leave and you’ll regret it terribly.’ aegon let go of aemond who looked at his brother with frowned eyebrows.

aegon felt slight anger take over him and he rolled his eyes before taking a long sip of his cold drink that began to melt from the heat of the room.

the song of the night changed as his danced his eyes to focus on the dancing crowd of the room who held people freely dancing rather it was shirtless, pantless or even naked—the very moment the music got louder was the exact moment he saw the pure white hair in the crowd.

the white hair only shared in his family—her hair could have been dyed but…nobody would want the hair color of a targaryen.

his eyes stayed glued to the female who let her arms rise just above her head as if she were touching the clouds above, her waist moving slowly as he looked up and down her frame.

the back of her was slowly turning to reveal herself and her face to him. she was wearing a short black skirt with torn stockings, heeled boots and white bottom down work shirt that a man would wear that was dressed over with a long oversized leather jacket.

when her face, he immediately recognized her. the daughter of his eldest sister. y/n targaryen.

almost letting his jaw drop to the dusted floor he slowly walked over to aemond who was sitting there against his will—‘isn’t that our niece? y/n targaryen?’ aegon pointed with his pointer finger that held a thick gold ring around it as he let half of his face hide behind the glass cup.

aemond immediately looked up and went to search for the self claimed y/n. nonetheless he found her and was immediately transfixed. how could she even be here? why was she here? especially dressed like that. if their sister saw her like this she would have a heart attack.

aemond nodded his head and aegon laughed as if the most ground breaking joke had been told in the history of forever.

‘but how? how is she even here right now? i thought daemon had the house guarded and locked down just for her to stay in and never leave’ aegon asked once he was able to or speak properly.

‘i’ve…heard they let her have a home for herself since she requested more privacy. more guards but not as many lock devices as they thought. she must have been able to break some.’ aemond still watched her as she smoked the center of the dance floor with the smoke coming from her glossy, plumped lips.

aegon felt his pants harden. he was never going to admit this fact as of right now but he was going to go over. there was no way in hell he would get cover this image of y/n over in his mind like he did with the whores he fucked recklessly.

sipping the rest of his drink with a large gulp and slapping it down onto the table next to aemond who was shaken out of his trance, aegon ruffled his hair with his thin fingers and fixed himself up.

aemond seeing him as he did this looked him up and down in pure fright—‘what…where are you going? what are you doing?’

‘making my way over to the lady. what else am i to do?’

aemond stood up and made sure his height peeked now.

‘you can’t. deamon and rhaenyra have permanently permitted and even mother have forbid you to ever speak to her…if you talk to her and anything happens you could ruin everything—‘

‘that’s why it’s exciting. and that’s exactly why i’m going to do it right now.’ pushing his shoulder against aemond who closed his eye and inhaled sharply he was readying himself for the future as he turned around to watch the scene itself unfold.

as argon made his way over to y/n who was completely on a different planet in her mind, he took a long drag of someone’s blunt as they didn’t mind. holding it in then breathing out he finally spelled into her world.

her eyes were softly shut. the black makeup around her eyes being prominent and her scent of weed, booz and perfume filled his lungs.

looking down at her body as she turned around she felt the hard chest of a man and opened her eyes to see aegon looking down at her with darkened eyes.

though they were blue, she was still able to see the darkness they held behind them.

her eyebrows frowned as if the her in her mind was leaving the planet she was once on and back to earth. aegon softly smiled at this and she let her jaw slightly open after slightly gulping.

‘my beautiful, beautiful, niece. what a surprise’ he joked as she looked up at him in sheer fright.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

walking into the bathroom as she stumbled over the invisible strings in front of her, y/n forced her way around the woman who were hurryingly getting ready, smoking and taking up their last drugs of the night. she pushed open the stall door and gripped the walls as her breath quickened.

she felt her head pounding at the image of aegon even being here at the same time as she was. this wouldn’t mean anything but to her this was so dangerous. her uncle—her moms brother seeing her here of all places on earth, especially somewhere she wasn’t even supposed to know about.

her stomach started to bubble as she felt her spit grow warm. groaning and throwing her head back to calm herself down with deep breaths she felt the feeling slowly subtracting and drafting away. the acid in her stomach going back calm.

‘fuck…fuck! anybody got a fucking cigarette?’ she yelled as a girl next to her in the stall swiftly slid her hand under the wall—‘here baby!’ she yelled.

looking down, y/n grabbed it in a hurry and took a long drag of it. the feeling rushing over the anxiety and pressure she was once feeling with calmness. breathing it out she smiled a bit with closed eyes as she lowered her legs to give it back.

‘thank you’ she said while the girl voiced back—‘no problem. hey you okay? i heard you cursing at the toilet’ she joked while smoking the cigarette she was given back.

‘uh, kinda. someone who isn’t supposed too even know im here just fucking made himself known. my parents are going to strip me of my hair and skin and hang it on the wall…fuck.’ y/n felt the nervousness wash back over.

y/n was now sitting on the bathroom floor with her legs pulled against her chest as she gripped her head from the headache that was building up.

as if the woman knew what she needed she passed the cigarette back over from under the stall as y/n took it.

‘ah that’s why i always move from place to place. i know how that feels. i moved a while ago. trust me honey, the best decision i've ever made, my parents don’t tell me what to do anymore.’ she explained while y/n took a drag of the cigarette and passed it back.

‘damn…how’d you even leave? i’m so scared of leaving i don’t even know anymore.’ looking up at the colorful ceiling, y/n thought of her parents the the life she was born into.

‘just…up and left i guess. stole a couple of bucks, packed what i had in my closet in one suitcase and a bag on my shoulder and made my way here. grew up on the streets but got money from working here.’ she told while y/n listened.

humming back the girl finished the cigarette and looked over at the stall all then down at the floor to see y/n’s half body sitting down.

‘hey come out i might have something you need, to loosen up’

y/n looked over and heard the heels of the girl walking out of the stall. getting up herself and opening the door to see a brown haired girl with red lipstick, black crop top and glittery skirt with black heels.

y/n nervously looked down before smiling a bit.

the girl moved over to y/n and soothed her hair as y/n looked herself in the mirror.

‘your a targaryen huh?’ the woman asked. y/n grew nervous at the fact she new what last name she shared be the woman eased her tension with a simple smile.

reaching into her bag and pulling out bag that held white powder, y/n immediately knew what it was and walked next to the woman who evened it out on the counter with her card.

‘it’ll make you see shit, laugh and get a little horny but it’s so worth it i promise’ she told while leaving y/n face to face with three evened out lines of powder in her face.

‘okay…okay fuck it’ y/n shook her hands and immediately grabbed the rolled dollar from the woman who went with the line on her finger.

closing her eyes and sniffing the line straight—first, second then third.

whipping herself back up with closed eyes she breathed out—‘i said goddamn!…goddamn.’ she sniffed as the substance went further up into her mind. breathing out a bit as she reached forward to press on the water a bit, she placed some on her finger and whipped the remnant off her nose.

sniffing once more before rubbing her nose with her hand she looked herself into the mirror and smiled a bit at the pure fact that she didn’t recognize herself.

fixing her hair and tossing it behind her back. the woman looked at her with admiration before giving her a kiss on the cheek—‘good luck babe, see you soon i hope?’ she said, while walking out.

y/n smiled and looked back into the mirror to let the drug itself take over.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

just outside the bathroom stood aegon who was looking all over the club for y/n who had stumbled her way through the crowd and away from him before he could even stop her.

finally her white hair peeked through the crowd that huddled near the bathroom. fixing his once hunched stature he straightened as she walked to him. her face looked much more different than before. more, pleasured. not as horrified.

when’s she made toe to toe with him through their shoes, she looked him up with her eyes but not her full face, giving the white part of her eyes more room than its actual color.

‘why are you here?’ she simple asked, pushing the conversation to its start. the forwardness definitely coming from daemon.

‘same as you just want to run and forgetting’ he simply and truthfully answered. a little taken back at her boldness but nevertheless replied.

‘hm. so you weren’t sent by one of my parents nor one of your own?’

‘fuck no. if i were to you think id be holding this drink whilst talking to you? i’d be cut in half before i would be able to speak hello as before’ aegon told as she looked him up and down.

‘if your so as lying to me i will have you killed in your sleep—‘

‘oh i know princess…don’t let my presence ruin your night of fun. i just hoped to be able to enjoy it with you’

to put it simply he wanted to stay by her side the whole time. even if she weren’t to speak to him or so even look at him he would be satisfied enough to stand in her atmosphere.

‘oh so you want to follow me around like a lost puppy with your tail between your legs, huh? is that it?’ she asked while pushing her body against his own.

his jeans becoming more tight around his practically choking cock. he grinned down at her while letting his hand travel up her face and to her jaw. his fingers then inching it to her bottom lip and letting his thumb press its way into her mouth which she allowed.

he let himself groan a bit as she suckled it like a babe on its mothers tit. his hips now flushed against her own she rubbed herself against him as he closed his eyes. she knew the fact that his lust was overcoming him.

which was why it prompted her to push herself away and let her lips slowly retract from his thumb. he opens his eyes in a slight haze as she smiled up at him.

he finger going over his lips—‘you a bad little boy huh? letting your niece, the daughter of your sister…betrothed to another, suckle your thumb in the middle of a club surrounded by drugs, sex and drunks. how would your mother think of you as of now—‘

‘i don’t give a fuck how she thinks of me…how about you be a good niece and let your uncle fuck you behind this club and take you come to force my cock into your pussy…how dose that sound? huh?’ he forced his hand around her neck while their lips were inches apart from touching each other as she let them slowly open.

her heat below becoming wet and practically soaking her panties.

‘fuck…’ she whispered as he smiled against her lips. she looked between his eyes and lips before pressing her own against his. the lust controlling her every fiber in her body.

aegon grabbed the sides of her face as her own half his wrists. his lips hungrily kissed her own as she moaned into his mouth. he’s kissed plenty of women, but never has any of them held just as much hunger in their kisses as he did and been able to match and mold against his own.

he groaned and sloppily kissed her as she let her body press against his once more before he forced himself to pull away.

‘we have to go—we go to my house, where i’ll fuck you’

‘yes…please’ she begged as he kissed her once more.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when they arrived into his large home—they were complete strangers keeping their hands off one another. his hands roamed over her body, face, waist and ass as her own pushed themselves against his stomach, neck and chest.

she moaned and he did too as she ripped his silk shirt open and let it down to the floor, the buttons on it clicking against the marble floors. he let her slip off her own shirt as

he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as she was holding his shoulders and neck with her arms that were completely bare.

his hands placed under her thighs as he gripped them. walking the both of them over to his bedroom and kicking the door open.

he slowly placed her onto the bed where her back touched the top of his dark green silk sheets her legs stayed wrapped around his own.

lucky for him this was his home where aemond definitely did not want to share. aemond stated the fact he didn’t want whores in the house every other night and or a party going on. he stayed with their parents and sister, helaena.

y/n thrusted her hips up into aegons growing cock as he groaned into her mouth and stuck his tongue into her mouth to flush against her own. when he slowly retracted she suckled down onto his bottom lip letting it slowly stretch before she let go.

‘you know how to please a man…my sweet, innocent y/n’ he whispered as she whined. her hips moving to his to try and ease the pressure that was threatening to spill from her.

‘sh…don’t worry—i’ll give you exactly what you need. what you thirst for.’ kissing her lips as he then kissed her chip, breast and slowly making his way down to her heat she watched him as his eyes kept trace to her own.

‘soaking’ he was in sheer awe as we was face to her pussy that clutched around nothing.

placing his lips upon it, he kissed her pearl before letting his mouth completely consume her.

‘ah—fuck’ y/n moaned as he stuck his tounge into her. making her hands down to grip his white messy hair, he moaned as she pulled it, his eyes watched her and threatening to close of pleasure.

he hated to admit the fact that only this would be able to make him soak his pants with cum without even being touched. her body, taste and noises were enough to get him off. her hands that gripped his hair and would occasionally sooth it.

y/n’s thighs were now wrapped around his head as he let his eyes roll back along with her own as she felt her peak rising to the surface.

‘i’m cumming…i’m going to cum all over your fucking face’ she mumbled while thrusting her hips into him.

he let one of his fingers enter her body as she moaned out loudly, causing him to almost cum right then and there.

‘cum for me baby…cum for me please’ he practically was dying for it. she gave him what he wished for and her legs shook as they released his head.

‘fuck!’ she yelled while he let his mouth suckle her throbbing pussy.

‘shit—you soaked me’ he smiled as he looked up at her as he looked back down at him and weakly smiled. he kissed her sensitive bud making her jump a bit as he kissed his way back to her lips.

she completely enclosed his moths and kissed him hungrily, tasting herself on his lips.

‘i want you to fuck me—please? please…i need it’ she begged. her legs wrapping back around his waist to push him forward to where his hard cock was pushed against her.

‘you really want that?’

‘yes—‘

‘are you able to keep up?’

‘fuck yes’ she smiled as he kissed her. she kissed him back and let him work his way down to his pants to unbuckle himself and let his aching cock pull out of its enclosure.

‘i’m going to go slow…okay?’ she nodded her head as she looked down at his cock that he lined up to her entrance.

the slowness was killing the both of them but was needed for the comfort of the moment. once it was in, y/n closed her eyes and let her upper body press itself against his chest. husband making its way under her to hold it there as he kept his eyes trained in her face.

his eyebrows frowning from pure pleasure as she opened her eyes and focused on him.

he moved painfully slow. but the more he molded his way around her walls the rougher and harder he got.

‘shit’ he groaned while she frowned her own eyebrows.

‘faster…go faster—‘ as she said this; he did just that.

his hips becoming in contact with her own as he becomes more messy and sloppy in his movements. her nails scratching at his back to create her own mark. he loved this. he loved the fact he could practically feel blood dripping down his back from her sharpened nails digging into his back.

he loved that her hair was messily stuck to her face as it’s long locks spread around his bed.

he loved her legs that crossed around his back as her ankles locked to make sure that she wouldn’t lose grip.

his arms almost giving out as he feels himself coming to his release, he let his thrust become harder as aegon placed his head against her shoulder and neck, biting down onto her shoulder.

‘i’m cumming—where do you—‘

‘in me! fuck…fucking come in me—treat me like a whore you find the street and breed me with your children’

his mouth opened as he felt pure euphoria with her words—‘you want my babies? to be swol and filled with my seed, as you grow—‘

‘yes! yes! please—‘ he then gave one last thrust before spilling into her with his body falling against her own as she held him tightly, the both of them finishing their moments.

she soothed her nails up and down his back as he felt himself grow drowsy.

after a bit he finally pushed himself off and and layed next to her as she turned her body, placing a leg over his lower second and massaging her hand up and down his chest.

the both of them forgetting the fact that this every moment could cause either war, or new blood for their family and themselves.

lost in the moment and completely forgetting who they are and what their families can and will do.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #house of dragons #short story au ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

[dreamy625]

loml - Chapter 3

Words: 1906

Content: Modern-day Steve Clark x OC standalone fic in seven parts. Basically fluffy fangirl wish-fulfilment! If 'what if Steve didn't die' fics are not your thing, you might want to skip this one. 

-----------------------------

“I should be walking you home.”

“It’s too far. I’ll get the night bus.” I don’t want to let on exactly how far it is, and thus have to explain why I’m even in this neighbourhood in the first place. Luckily he seems oblivious to my evasiveness. 

“Not safe though, a lady on her own at night.”

I laugh at this chivalrous thought - I’m 5’8’’, 5’10’’ in my boots, and with the leather jacket and black streaks in my hair I guess I look pretty tough, or maybe just like I would scream really loud, so no one bothers me. 

When we get to the door, he manages the key with no trouble this time. A lot of the regulars were involved with the darts, so he spent more of the evening just with me and kept pace with my drinking speed, which tends to slow and steady rather than gulping it down and on to the next round, so I guess he’s drunk less than he would on a normal night. Really he didn’t need walking home, but he’d waited for me when we left the pub, like he just expected that we’d leave together, and of course I wasn’t going to refuse. 

“D’you want to… would you like to come in? For a bit? I’ve got some good brandy. Brandy’s better with… friends.”

I’m touched that he would even consider me for the role of friend, although I feel somewhat of a fraud considering how all this started. But, well I’m not going to say no am I? I’m not picking up any vibes of an ulterior motive, he does just seem to want company, and I feel totally safe. And obviously madly curious! 

From what I see of it, the house is clean, tidy, but kind of generic. Interesting pictures, but the decor and furnishings are just classic ‘good taste’ without much personality to them. I’m guessing someone else picked them out, maybe a girlfriend or even an interior designer. We go into the living room, but he just picks up a bottle of brandy from a side table and then suggests we go downstairs. Downstairs turns out to be a basement kitchen and a music room - part recording studio, part, I suppose you’d say, man-cave. This looks more like I’d imagined Steve’s house to be - lots of records, lots of books, obviously lots of guitars, framed band posters (not Def Leppard, but mostly Led Zeppelin, one of Ziggy-era David Bowie), and I spot one of Rick Allen’s paintings. One gold disc, but only one and, curious, I ask where all the others are.

“There’s some more upstairs. I gave a lot away, and actually chucked a bunch of them. We got so many I’d’ve been living surrounded by stacks of them.” He sounds matter-of-fact, not boasting in the slightest. 

He fetches glasses from the kitchen and pours two generous measures of brandy, then, moving a guitar out of the way, motions for me to sit on the sofa. He sits on the only other chair in the room, a somewhat worn leather armchair, and puts his feet up on the table in front of it. He lights a cigarette and offers one to me, but I decline (I’ve already smoked more in the last two weeks than I have in probably the last five years and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up the pretence of being a regular smoker without my lungs launching an unpleasant protest!).

“What are you grinning about?”

I hadn’t realised I was. “I guess… I’ve never been in a rockstar’s house before… I’m not sure what I thought it would look like.” He glances around the room but doesn’t comment. “I’ve seen in ‘Hello!’… don’t the other guys… the Leppard guys… all live in huge mansions?”

“Pretty much. Sav lived in basically a castle. But I like it here. I prefer living in the city.”

“Do you go back to Sheffield much?”

“Not really, not since my Mam died. Everytime I do, they’ve knocked something else down. It’s not the same place any more. Not that that’s a bad thing. It was really run down and depressing when I was a kid.”

“Nottingham’s a bit like that too. That’s where I’m from.”

“Ah, I thought there was something other than London in your accent.”

“Yeah, I left when I was sixteen but some of it stuck. Bath rather than bah-th.”

“Glass rather than glah-ss.” he adds with half a smile. “Forever marked as an alien no matter where you go.”

“I guess.” I’d never really thought of it like that. My London has always been full of people who aren’t from here, and it’s far more home to me than Nottingham ever was. But I suppose if you’ve travelled a lot like he has, it must be harder to settle in one place.

While I’m thinking about this, Steve has filled the silence by topping up the glasses. And then suddenly he asks, “Are you married?”

“No. Not any more.”

“Me neither. She died.”

I actually didn’t know that. I mean, I knew he’d gotten married, in the early nineties, and there were pictures of the two of them at the time. But then she’d sort of disappeared, so I’d assumed divorced. On the rare occasions you saw pictures of him at events, he always seemed to be with a group, or on his own, no significant other.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine… I shouldn’t have… long time ago. Poor girl.” He pauses to light another cigarette. “And we’d separated years before - we were only married for about five minutes really. But technically I am a widower.” He pulls a face, “Weird thing to be.”

“Like something out of a Victorian novel.”

“Like Mr Rochester. Except of course he wasn’t really.”

“So have you got a madwoman locked away in your attic?”

“Haven’t got an attic.”

“I’m concerned if that’s the only thing stopping you!”

He laughs, and from that point on it, us being here together, doesn’t feel forced any more. He’s easy company, chattering away enthusiastically when the topic is something he’s passionate about, like music or art, and just listening, but actually listening not doing that thing where people just put their brain into standby until it’s their turn again, when he doesn’t have something to contribute. He seems okay with pauses for thinking too - I hate when people get uncomfortable waiting for me to say something and jump in before I’ve finished assembling my thought. I’ve noticed sometimes he does it too, when he’s asked for an opinion rather than just a fact. I think back to the old footage of interviews from the Def Leppard days, when he rarely seemed to say anything. I wonder what he would have said if Joe had ever waited for him to speak before jumping in. 

I don’t know how long we talk for, at least three brandies-worth, but eventually I think I really have to go. I have work in the morning, not early, but I still need to be sober and respectable before lunchtime. 

“You could crash here? In the spare room. There’s always a bed made up.”

I’m torn between the urge for more of whatever this is, and not wanting to impose on the kindness of someone who really doesn’t even know me properly. I think one day, supposing this carries on in some form, he’s going to find out the true story of how it started, and I don’t want him to be weirded out by having let a crazed fan loose in his home. But I really, really, don’t want to go back out in the cold and look for a bus. That was quite a lot of brandy, on top of what I’d already drunk in the pub, and I wouldn’t feel as armour-clad as I usually do alone in the dark city.

“Are you sure?” He nods. “Okay then, that’s very kind.”

He leads me up two flights of stairs, pausing briefly on the landing to say “That one’s me, you’re up one more I’m afraid.”

On the second landing he opens the door of a large room furnished with solid-looking but slightly old-fashioned furniture. As promised the bed is made up, and everything looks clean and tidy. 

“Bathroom’s down the hall.” He waves vaguely back the way we came. “There’ll be clean towels in there, and use anything from the cabinets. Maggie keeps it stocked.”

‘Maggie’ has not been mentioned before, so I get the impression their relationship is professional rather than personal, an assistant or housekeeper maybe?

“Thank you, this is very sweet of you.”

He smiles and ducks his head, looking endearingly bashful and suddenly much younger. “Pleasure. Well, goodnight then.”

He ambles off down the stairs and I decide to go and check out the bathroom. Again neat and spotless, with blue fluffy towels. It doesn’t look like anyone uses the room on a regular basis. The cupboard under the sink boasts an array of the little toiletries like you get in hotels plus toothbrushes, flannels, and, praise be, moisturiser (why do men never have moisturiser?), travel-size deodorant, and I even spot a box of Tampax at the back. There is definitely a thoughtful and very organised woman at work here. It also suggests that unexpected overnight guests are a common enough occurrence to warrant this preparation, which makes me feel less guilty about being here. 

Having cleaned my teeth, washed my face, and used some of the, it turns out, rather good moisturiser provided, I’m back in my room and just settling into bed when I hear the shower on the floor below turn on. Soon there are some splashing sounds and not particularly tuneful whistling, and I drift off to sleep soothed by this ordinary and domestic soundscape.

When I wake up in the morning, the house is silent except for traffic noise from outside. I know Steve’s not a morning person, so I’m careful to be as quiet as possible moving around and showering and so on. By the time I’m dressed and ready to go, he still hasn’t emerged and there’s no noise coming from his room, which is directly under the guest room. It’s not like I was expecting breakfast in bed or something, more that I wonder if it’s rude just to leave without saying anything? I hover undecided on the landing for a moment. What if I wake him up and he doesn’t remember why there’s a strange woman in his house? That would be awkward to say the least. So I decide against, and tiptoe away down the stairs. I go all the way down to the basement to get a glass of water, and decide to leave a note, using the back of a shopping list stuck on the fridge. Trying not to overthink it, I thank him for his hospitality, say it was a fun evening, and finally scribble my mobile number at the bottom (that’s a normal thing people do now, right? Doesn’t mean anything?). Checking I’ve got everything - bag, keys, phone - I head for the front door. Briefly, very briefly, I consider stealing something, just to prove I’ve been there, but I don’t, of course I don’t. As quietly as I can, I close the door behind me and begin my trek back south of the river.

#Steve Clark #Steve Clark fanfic #Steve Clark fanfiction #Def Leppard fanfic #Def Leppard fanfiction #loml fic

[belovedstill]

behind a hidden door (ao3) svsss, qijiu | 1.1k, angst, pre-canon, yue qingyuan character study, canonical death

Yue Qingyuan's life circles around love, guilt, and regret; he doesn't deserve to show any of it.

written for week 3 prompt: soulmates and/or strangers of the @multifandommatch event, representing team angst 🌧 The beautiful people from my team created beautiful things for this fic, so thank you to: Sapphie for the heartbreaking piece of art.

Yue Qingyuan was a simple man with a simple purpose in life: to be enough. It carried within all his deepest, humblest wishes.

To love.

There was no faster way to lose something than to announce you favoured it—Yue Qi had learned his lesson when he’d still been a slave beggar on the streets, back when jiu had still been just a number. A new merchant in town had noticed him eyeing a small trinket and, since it must have been cheap enough, she’d handed it to him with a smile. Nobody had ever gifted him anything before. He couldn’t have contained himself with joy, babbling to the other children: his favourite, the little toy had been his, his alone!

He’d woken up the next morning with it gone.

By the time Shen Jiu had been brought to their sorry group and decided to stick with him and him alone, Yue Qi had known better and kept his tongue bitten. He wouldn’t have wanted to wake up to Xiao Jiu gone from his side, too, after all.

Instead, Xiao Jiu would get the cleanest bites of food, and the first sip from their cup, and the larger part of their shared threadbare blanket. He would get exasperated headshakes, and fond smiles, and protective hugs.

For Xiao Jiu, Qi-ge would be determined, dedicated, and a little rash. For him, he would improve, and fight, and always, always return when they had to part for the day.

Yue Qingyuan wasn’t allowed to say he loved Shen Qingqiu, despite their new positions, despite their security and power, despite not having to fear somebody would steal him away.

This time, he didn’t deserve to.

He dared, though, to keep it, and keep it secret.

His love was stored in a life-draining sword and a poor attempt at a handmade would-one-day-be-a-gift clay tea set.

To repent.

I’m sorry, he said in every smallest gesture, because those were the only words Shen Qingqiu seemed willing to answer to.

I’m sorry, whispered the funds allocated to Qing Jing for an expansion of the peak’s already impressive library. I’m sorry, murmured the sound of excellent quality tea from a faraway city. I’m sorry, rustled the commissioned masterfully painted bamboo-patterned fan.

And when Yue Qingyuan felt like his soul couldn’t bear holding those words in, he’d breathe them like air, a silent explosion, a desperate plea, an oath to—

“Learn some other words,” Shen Qingqiu would tell him, tone cold and cutting, and would urge him to leave with a clear dismissal. Acknowledgement, even if brusque and sharp; Yue Qingyuan always listened.

He left the bamboo house every time with an ember of hope in his heart. The funds, the tea, the fan—they all remained inside.

To protect.

Yue Qingyuan wasn’t ashamed of his origins. He’d risen from the mud, had refined his qi from the shapeless form it used to be, had devoted his life to protect, to save, to harbour. His only shame lay in his clumsiness when he tried to protect, to save, to harbour the ones he loved.

That he’d been chosen to lead was truly ironic.

With his position as the sect leader, he was now responsible for everyone's safety. That Shen Qingqiu continued to spend some nights in the town’s Warm Red Pavillon told him exactly how well Yue Qingyuan was fulfilling his role.

What protection? What safety? What harbour?

He couldn’t even successfully mediate the disagreements and completely quell the rumours between the peaks of his own sect.

But he kept trying.

Shen Qingqiu was abrasive? No, he was just defending his own.

Shen Qingqiu was threatening his martial siblings? No, he was just standing his ground.

Shen Qingqiu was cruel and aloof and cunning? No, he was simply determined to survive.

Whenever he would jump to Shen Qingqiu’s defence like this, Shen Qingqiu would glare at him, then refuse to look at him for a second longer while their martial siblings rolled their eyes at him. 

If they had known of Xiao Jiu, of what his life used to look like, of what he’d gone through… Would they have still criticised his every action?

To know.

Everybody had things they didn’t want others to learn; Yue Qingyuan watched every day as Shen Qingqiu carried a mountain of his own, guarding them behind open fans, behind narrowed eyes, behind the closed doors of his dwelling. Xiao Jiu had been locked behind those doors, forcibly put to sleep somewhere in the corner of Shen Qingqiu’s heart.

Sometimes, Yue Qingyuan entertained the thought that he could see that child still, in the way Shen Qingqiu’s eyes would turn calculating in the presence of different sects’ representatives or the corner of his mouth would twitch when his youngest disciple would almost trip on her way to run toward him in a greeting. Or when his fingers would twitch around his fan that one time Yue Qingyuan felt particularly daring to try his luck and offered him a stick of tanghulu—only for Shen Qingqiu to turn his face away and huff that he was not some child to pacify with a treat, Sect Leader.

He’d always liked sweets when they were little, dirty and always hungry. Yue Qingyuan hated that he hadn’t had the chance to actually get him any back then, when it would have been received with gusto.

Shen Qingqiu had hidden Xiao Jiu behind a secret door to his heart, but Yue Qingyuan knew where to look to catch glimpses of him. He was always there, as if still waiting; it was as comforting as it was bittersweet.

To explain.

Once I’m worthy, Yue Qingyuan would promise himself, again and again, I’ll tell him.

It wouldn’t be long. It wouldn’t be long.

On a surprisingly cold evening, Mu Qingfang sent urgent word: Shen Qingqiu had been struck with an unusually high fever. He’d need rest to recover.

The next morning, Shen Jiu was forever gone. In his bed lay a stranger with his face.

A kind stranger; softer than Shen Qingqiu had allowed himself to be in years.

A stranger nonetheless.

In his private quarters, behind a door Yue Qingyuan made sure nobody knew of, he put up a crudely handmade memorial tablet and lit a stick of incense. He poured two misshapen cups of tea in a ceremony he’d never got to share with the person he’d learned it for, and placed one with both hands in front of the tablet.

The other one remained untouched.

With salt on his lips, Yue Qingyuan finally told him everything and prayed that Shen Jiu listened.

This time, he would be the one waiting, and he would never stop.

To be enough (for him to come back).

#multifandommatch #mfmteamangst #svsss #svsss fic #qijiu #angst #major character death #my writing #m #i recommend reading this on ao3 as the formatting is better there <3

[master-sass-blast]

The Color of Our Love.

I LIVEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Summary: You and Piotr take the next step in making your house a home: painting the walls.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: G.

Word Count: 1.5k.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

Taglist:  @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

It’s the smell that gets to you the most. You’re used to soaring through the skies, drawing in gulps of fresh, pure air into your lungs. You’re used to smelling sun-warmed grass and fresh flowers and the dampness of rain in the air once a storm’s passed and—

“How do you deal with this?” You grimace, rubbing the bridge of your nose as your husband opens cans of paints and pours them into the trays meant for roller brushes. “I’m gonna get a headache.”

“You get used to it,” Piotr says as he unwraps the detachable brush head for his roller brush. He smiles sympathetically when you start massaging your temples and pats your shoulder reassuringly. “We can open windows. And take breaks.”

The two of you are starting the next leg of your journey to making your house a home: painting. Neither of you like looking at bland white walls.

It’s been a long process, though, of quibbling over color options, making sure those options match with the other choices for other rooms (as needed), and planning out which rooms to do when so you don’t inadvertently spend a whole paycheck on cans of paint.

You two decided to start in the master bedroom, for the sake of simplicity down the line.

Impatient, you pick up one of the paintbrushes Piotr had purchased for edging around window and door frames and smear a thick stripe of paint over an empty stretch of wall. “Chop chop, baby! We’re wasting daylight!”

Piotr laughs, loading up a roller brush with paint and letting the excess drip back into the tray. “After you, myshka.”

The two of you work for a while, chatting aimlessly while you transform the room from a sterile sea of white to something much homier –and less likely to cause eyestrain. Piotr handles outlining the window and door frames so there’s guidelines for the rollers and takes care of the high spots, while you flit around the room, alternating between the regular brusher and a roller brush as you fill in the places your husband’s prepped for you.

Eventually, though, your self-control starts to wane –and then your opportunity presents itself on a silver platter.

Piotr’s got his back to you. He’s working on painting the parts of the wall near the ceiling.

And, on prime display in a pair of old gym shorts, is his butt.

(God, he has a fantastic butt. Perfectly sculpted by innumerable squats and obscene amounts of protein bars. You can bounce a quarter off his ass –and, yes, you’re speaking from experience.

Not that you’d warned Piotr what you were planning on doing when you’d tried it.)

You bite on your lower lip, trying to stifle your excited giggles as you coat your hand with paint from your brush. Then, before Piotr can turn around, you dash across the room and smack your hand against his rear.

Piotr yelps. Jumps. Whirls around, twists to look at his backside, then faces you. His eyes are wide, mouth hanging open in a smile, as if to say, “did you really just do that?” Then, his grin broadens as he paints his own hand with his roller brush. “It is on.”

“No!” You squeal and sprint away, darting around your bedroom as you try to evade your husband’s pursuit of vengeance.

There’s only so much space, though, and your husband’s a large man. He catches you eventually, snagging you with his clean hand and locking you against him with his arm before pressing his paint-covered hand against your chest.

You bust out laughing, leaning back against his solid, warm chest; there’s not much point in trying to run away, now that you’ve been caught. “Not on my boob!”

“Serves you right,” Piotr teases, nuzzling against your cheek. “Naughty myshka.”

You tip your head back and grin up at him. “Yours.”

He grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours.

 ***

 Fumes aside, there’s not a single other thing you dislike about the painting process. It’s incredible to watch the bedroom slowly transform before your eyes.

“It’s like the feeling off the room has changed,” you comment as Piotr works on the delicate edging work near the crown molding; the two of you had opted for a soft, pastel color for the bedroom to promote rest and relaxation. “It feels cozier now. More relaxing.”

“Da.” He lays down a careful line along the crown molding –miraculously not getting so much as a speck of paint on the pure white border, which is why he’s doing this job and you are not—then dips his brush back into the pint can in his hand. “Is color psychology. Impacts our mood, perception of room.”

“I like it.” You stretch your arms, smiling as you admire the freshly painted walls. “It feels like it’s ours now.”

Piotr nods. He smiles as he finishes the last of the edgework, then sets his paint can down next to the roller tray. “Shall we rinse brushes, then take break for lunch before starting work downstairs?”

“I like the sound of the lunch part,” you say, offering up an impish grin.

“How about this,” Piotr chuckles. “I will rinse brushes, and you can make us lunch.”

“Okay, yes. Sounds great!” You shove your paintbrush into Piotr’s hand, then quickly skip out of the room and float down the stairs. “Love you!”

Piotr’s laughter echoes down the hall after you.

 ***

 “Oh, yeah. This is it. This is how I want to work from now on.”

Piotr glances over his shoulder at you. A smirk tugs at his lips. “You are sitting on couch while I paint.”

“Correction!” You hold up your index finger. “I am sitting on the couch while you paint and staring at your butt. It’s a very integral part of the process.”

Piotr snorts and shakes his head. His cheeks flush –and, even though he’s trying to hide it, you can see the bashful smile playing on his lips. “My apologies, myshka. How could I forget?”

“I get it. I doubt you spend much time staring at your own butt –which, really is such a shame; you’ve got an amazing ass, babe.”

He laughs and shakes his head once more.

The reason he’s working and you’re not –aside from the obvious superiority of sitting down and staring at your husband’s ass—is because the family room and kitchen require a lot of edge work. You’d offered to help… and then gotten paint all over the baseboards, light switches, window frames, and crown molding within fifty seconds of starting.

You just don’t have the patience –or Piotr’s well-practiced, steady hand.

“Are you still going to do the zhostovo mural in the kitchen?” you ask as you watch Piotr work.

“Da. I have sketches in art studio, if you want look.”

You’re never one to pass up on seeing Piotr’s art, so you hop of the couch and scamper down the hall to his art studio.

Since Piotr’s art studio is fastidiously organized, it’s no trouble at all to find the sketchbook with the mural sketches in them. You flip through it until you find the various drawings of the bright, richly colored flowers, then lean against his desk as you gaze down at the page.

The bulk of the mural –which, based on Piotr’s sketches, looks like it’s going to be in the center of the wall between the fridge and the coffee counter—is comprised of large, delicately curved flowers. Roses, daisies, poppies, cornflowers… all of them weave together, bowing outward in dramatic flourishes of color. Vibrant green blades of grass form the base of the main mural, moving with the arcs of the flowers and leaves. You can see a few different designs for some edgework –to be placed on the edges and corners of the wall, so as to frame the main part of the mural—made of varying bits of filigree, Russian lettering, and tiny, white and purple tinged blooms.

You grin. Your fingers trace over the various filigree designs Piotr had been testing out. Wow. You amble back into the main room, gaze still focused on your husband’s designs. “These are amazing, sweetheart.”

“Spasibo, myshka.” Piotr looks up from his lining work, watching you –almost apprehensively—as you study his artwork. “Do you like design?”

“Piotr… I love it.” You let out a small, stunned laugh; as if there was ever a chance you wouldn’t like his art. “It’s so beautiful. It’s going to look perfect in the kitchen.”

Piotr ducks his head, cheeks flushing. His lips curve into a pleased smile. “Thank you, dorogoy.”

“Do you know which border you’re going to pick?”

“Not yet.” He shrugs. “Cannot find right ‘feel.’”

“You’ll get there,” you reassure him. “I kind of like the one you paired the Cyrillic. What does it say?”

“Is blessing,” Piotr explains. “Moya babushka made for family home, in Siberia. Illyana would have to do magic for it, but I liked idea of including words in design.”

“I like it, too.” You close the sketchbook and set it carefully on the coffee table (where it’ll be safe from potential paint splatters), then walk up behind Piotr and wrap your arms around his waist. “We have a home,” you murmur as you nuzzle your face against his back.

Piotr lets out a delighted giggle. His free hand clasps both of yours. “That we do, lyublyu.”

“I love you, Piotr. So much.”

“And I love you, Y/N, so very much, too.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #fluff fluff fluff #this is my wish fulfillment fic for house painting #because my fiance and i can't afford to paint the walls in our house yet #and the previous owner painted them fucking greyish poop brown #and i hate it #but soon #sooooon #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

[djarinbarnes]

Silent Night - Bucky Barnes

THIS IS A DARK FIC. IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, PLEASE DNI.

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Author: Dina

Word Count: roughly 15k

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x innocent(?)!female reader

Warnings: dark!bucky, dark!fic, 18+, loss of virginity, dubcon, noncon (to be safe), smut, age gap (18 and 36), pwp, unprotected sex, male masturbation, abuse of power, anal sex, somnophilia, anal play, toys, drugging, forced oral, spitting, slapping, slight bondage... a whole lot of things.

Summary: Bucky has always put his best friend’s daughter first. She’s like the niece he never had. He’s recently become more and more infatuated with her, and when he sees a window of opportunity, he decides to act upon it.

A/N: Well damn, here it is! This is a long one 😇 Some of you have read this before, but now it has been rewritten and finished ♡

For Kaley, Sab, Gracie and Nahema. I wouldn’t have finished this without you ♡

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Dear diary.

This is the story of how I really lost my virginity. I know that no one is going to see this, but I figured writing about it would make it seem better. Easier.

It’s something I’ve been reluctant to share with anybody until now. A lot of things have happened since I wrote to you last. You’ve heard about this man before.

He’s been my father’s best friend for years. Since they were boys. Best man at my parent’s wedding, there in the waiting room the day I was born, present at every birthday party since then. Giving me presents, treating me with so much love.

Uncle Bucky, as he’d come to be named in our family, had watched me grow up and I was his princess. The niece he never had. He showered me with everything a little girl could wish for. We had secrets. It was just something that was shared between the two of us.

But once I turned eighteen, something changed in Bucky. His fondness of me turned into an obsession. I felt it like a pendulum changing its magnetic attraction point. Every time he was over at our house, he would become distracted.

I’ve known all along what made him distracted. It was something I reveled in. But he knew he couldn’t do anything while my dad was around. So, he came up with a plan to get me alone.

Friday, 3:21pm

Going away with Bucky for the weekend as a graduation present seemed like everything she had hoped for. She would finally be free from her parents, even if it was only a weekend. She made her way around her room cheerily, throwing some random pieces of clothing along with her bathing suit, a towel and some toiletries into her bag, feeling her stomach jump slightly.

When Bucky had given her a weekend getaway to his lake house as a graduation present last week, she had been overjoyed. Finally, she had the chance to feel a little bit alive, since her parents hadn’t let her celebrate graduation with her classmates.

A gift from your favorite uncle! Had been scrawled into the card in Bucky's messy handwriting. She just knew he’d been standing at the florists, greasy hands stuffed in his pockets, nervously buying 18 red roses for her. Bucky had always made sure she had everything. He was her dad's coolest friend, and he would spoil her as much as he could.

It hadn't taken a lot of persuasion from her side to let her parents agree to hang out with Bucky for a weekend. He'd babysat her before when she was younger, but it was different now that she’d turned 18. The rules they had set were minimum, but they were there. No drinking, no nothing they wouldn’t do. A little more loose than usual, but she appreciated it, nonetheless.

Her parents, Steve and Peggy, had grown uptight over the last few years, and everything was about keeping her safe and keeping boys away from her. There was always an excuse as to why she couldn’t go to a party or why she couldn’t go on a date with Peter, the guy she had been studying with at school.

Peter was a good kid; she knew that much. He never tried anything with her, and always held back when she would flirt with him during their study sessions at the library. Even that one time she’d tried to hold his hand, he’d shrugged her off and excused himself for the day.

She never figured out why he didn’t want her affection, but she found out soon after, when she saw him kiss his best friend just after the graduation ceremony. It’d hurt – a lot – but she figured it was for the better. A day didn’t even pass before she was laughing at her obliviousness.

This year, when she’d finally turned 18, she’d hoped that everything would settle down with her parents and they’d loosen the restraints on her, but she was wrong. Apparently now, there was even more reason for keeping her home and away from boys. She figured they were afraid of her getting knocked up or something along the lines of that.

The only man she’d see on a regular basis out of school was Uncle Bucky. He and her father would always be working on their motorcycles in front of the garage, and she would watch them from her window on the first floor. She’d found her window to be a great place to keep an eye on them – on him.

She knew that Bucky worked out a lot and put a lot of effort into looking good on a daily basis, but there was just something captivating about him when his hands were covered in grease, strands of his hair falling from the half bun at the back of his head, the sweat glistening on his skin in the sun. He was attractive. And very much so.

If he was only ten years younger and not her father’s best friend, she would’ve been more than interested in him. Well, she was interested… But she knew that her father wouldn’t ever allow something like it, let alone… No. It just wasn’t happening.

Detaching herself from her train off thoughts and zipping up her weekend bag, she heard a car honk from the driveway. She made her way over to the window and a smile spread across her face as she saw Bucky’s sleek, black convertible pull up. She hurried over to her bag, making sure she had everything before nearly jumping down the stairs to get out of the house.

“Bye dad! Bye mom!” she yelled just as she pushed open the door, making her way to Bucky who was now leaning against the hood of his car. When he noticed her approaching, he pushed his body off the hood and opened his arms for her, letting her run into his warm embrace with a giggle. A muttered hi was shared between the two of them before he pulled away, walking around the hood to open the car door for her.

Giving her bag to Bucky before he shut the passenger door made her stomach flutter slightly. She hears the trunk opening and closing, and when he slides into the driver’s seat beside her and pulls out of the driveway, he's already telling jokes and making her laugh.

It was gonna be a fun weekend, she expected that much. She had great plans.

Friday, 4:02pm

Arriving at his lake house had her eyes widening. It was like a whole new house. There had been added an extension to the main house since she was here last summer, and the front porch had been painted white. Bucky parked the car, and she threw open the door of the car, getting out in one fluid motion.

"Wow! This is amazing Bucky!" she smiled at him as they both ventured up the stairs to his front porch. Bucky unlocked the door and they both stepped into the house. She’s taken aback once again.

"This is so much neater than the last time I was here!"

The whole place has been fully renovated, and there's newer, modern furniture complimenting the freshly painted walls. She admires the giant painting on the furthest wall and remembers the unfinished canvas that had been sitting untouched in one of her parent’s rooms last year.

“He finished it.” She smiled and stepped closer to it, admiring the thick, colorful paint strokes upon the black background. She heard Bucky’s footsteps behind her, trailing back through his house.

"Check out the view." She hears Bucky's voice from somewhere in the kitchen. She places her bag on one of the chairs in the living room, walking over to the glass sliding doors that lead out to the back garden, and she bursts out into a smile.

The lake you once had to walk through trees to get to, is now visible from where she’s standing. The belt of trees has been cut down, and the trunks has been dug up. She could see further than ever. She could even see the water supply tower that showed where the city began. If she squinted, she could see her parents’ backyard.

"This is incredible! I wish we lived here," she sighed and turned to find Bucky standing in the doorway. If she’d known of the way Bucky’s heart had thumped in his chest at her revelation, her smile would fall immediately. She internally begged to whomever, that Bucky hadn’t noticed her say we. Instead, he spoke up about something else.

"You still have to see the new amenities." A smile tugged on Bucky's lips.

"What amenities?" He knew she’d love what he’d installed for her, and only her. She’d talked about it for weeks on end the past five summers, and during the winter he’d finally found the time and materials to fulfill her dreams.

"The pool." his eyes glinted with something near mischief. Her eyes widened along with her smile.

"You have a pool? That's amazing!" Just the reaction he’d hoped for. He loved it when she lit up like fairy lights, her eyes filling with glee. It made his heartbeat faster in his chest.

"Did you bring your suit?" she didn't know if she heard it right, but it seemed that his voice had dropped an octave. She nodded as she grabbed her bikini out of her bag, making her way to the newly renovated bathroom to change.

Bucky watched her as she with a giggle made her way through his house, her arms wrapped around her form to shield her nakedness from the older man, who subtly tried to not look at her. “You’re not joining me?” her innocent voice filled his ears and he shut his eyes tightly before turning just a bit away from her.

“No, I’ve got some things to do. Maybe later.” His eyes quickly came up as he heard the sliding door open, watching her ass as she made her way from the patio door to the point where she descended the built-in stairs into the newly built pool.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants, the sight of her in her skimpy purple bikini was making the blood flow to his cock at an undeniable speed. He watched as her shoulders shuddered before she dived under water, her perky ass just caressing the surface from below.

He clenched his jaw before turning on his heel, the image of her half naked body burned into his retina. He needed to get it out of his system, and he needed to do it fast. He knew that there was no way he would ever forget what he had just seen, but either way he had to do something about the situation in his pants.

Making his way into the bathroom nearest the pool, he quickly unbuckled his pants and shoved both them and his underwear down to his thighs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his stomach, hard and proud and he spat into his hand before gripping it tightly, letting out a strangled groan.

"Fuck yes, god you're such a fucking tease..." his head rolled back as he moved his hand, keeping a tight grip around the shaft, imagining her lithe body taking his cock, all of his cock. “Bet you know what you’re doing to me. Bet you know how I feel about you.” His last words were followed by a groan.

The veins pulsated beneath his fingers as he let his head fall forward and he opened his eyes, watching as he fucked into his hand. He saw her body before him, drenched in the cool water of the pool, goosebumps rising on her skin, and he let out another strangled groan, god, he was so close.

It was unlike any time he’d ever jerked off to the vision of her. It was intensified – by powers he didn’t know where from. Maybe it was from her being close. So close he could reach out and claim her as his – just like he’d always wanted to.

He felt the well-known tightening in this scrotum, this time so powerful they drove tears to his eyes. God – he wanted her so badly it hurt. Yet, he had to restrain himself for the time being, he thought, as the movements of his hand picking up speed and he sucked in a breath just as he felt the surge of euphoria overcome him, and-

"Oh my god, Bucky I'm so sorry!"

Friday, 4:43pm

The air that hits her when she emerges from the water is cold. She’s shivering as she throws her arms around herself, making her way up the stairs and inside the house.

She has no idea where Bucky went, so light on her toes, arms trying to warm her torso, she makes her way to the nearest bathroom to take a warm shower. Her teeth are clattering, her frame littered with goosebumps as she trod lightly through the slightly warmer house.

She stops on one foot when she hears a sound, a sound that resembles a moan an awful lot. It can’t be. She approaches the half-open door cautiously, thinking her next move over at least a thousand times before she finally gives in and pushes the door open wider, making her halt completely.

There, in all his glory is Bucky, touching himself for whomever may have walked in to see. That whomever being her. She lets out a shriek before turning her back to him. “Oh my god, Bucky I’m so sorry!” She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, the embarrassment warming up her body quickly as she hears a rustling of clothes behind her.

She silently prays that he isn’t mad at her for walking in on such an intimate moment for him. It lit something inside of her, though, seeing him all hot and bothered for her. Everything that she’s ever imagined about him was definitely an understatement. She hears his footsteps behind her and soon after the heat radiating off his chest against her back, before he speaks up.

“Don’t worry about it,” His voice is so deep she can barely recognize it. “The bathroom is all yours.”

She locks eyes with him as he walks past her, his pupils blown wide like she’s never seen them before. She wraps her arms tighter around herself, trying to cover up from his prying eyes. She nods her head slightly before turning on her heel, walking into the bathroom.

She makes sure the door is locked behind her before she strips herself of her bikini, making sure to hang them to dry on the small, heated towel rack, before finding a towel under the sink where he usually keeps them.

The shower she takes is as long as it usually would take, only now her thoughts are occupied with flashes of Bucky touching himself. Why was he touching himself? Her mind wanders to who the reason could be. She knew he’d had a girlfriend named Natasha once – she was beautiful and had lips like the fullest, reddest cherry – she looked like every man’s wet dream.

She also knew from photos that he’d had a long-time girlfriend in high school through college named Dot – brunette and curvy and with the prettiest facial features she’d ever laid her eyes upon – all the women she had known Bucky to date were so beautiful, he could only think of either them or some hot porn stars he’d probably seen online.

But why now while she was here? Her eyes rolled back as she let out a whimper, her fingers gliding between her smooth, velvet lips, the vision of his hand gliding along the smooth skin of his cock letting her imagination run wild.

Her eyes went wide when she realized what she was doing, and she quickly retracted her fingers from where she now felt a certain warmth spread. She let out a deep sigh as she rested her head against the wall of the shower, the warm water still cascading down her back, heating her freezing limbs.

She finished her shower reluctantly before drying herself off, groaning inwardly as she realized she’d forgotten to bring clean panties and even clean clothes with her to the bathroom in the furry of awkward seconds between her and Bucky. She went over the possibilities she had in her head before searching the bathroom, letting out a small yes! when she found one of Bucky’s clean shirts in one of the small cabinets.

Thinking he didn’t mind, she slipped it over her head and vowed to herself to apologize to him when she saw him next. The shirt felt way too comfortable than it should have, and it instantly warmed her torso, before she pulled it down as far as it would go, just below the apex of her thighs.

She let out a sigh before unlocking the door, listening for a few second to hear where Bucky was located in the house. She heard the washing machine click open and she closed her eyes with another sigh, leaving the safe perimeters where she wouldn’t face embarrassment.

Tiptoeing through the hallway, she made her way into the living room to locate her bag. It felt so wrong to walk around Bucky’s house sin panties. She hears steel clashing in the laundry room, startling her. She lets out a small huff of air before pulling out a pair of lace panties from her bag, before sliding them on under the long shirt.

She’s shuffling through her bag when she’s once again startled by Bucky, this time by his voice.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” She whips around quickly with a small yelp, lace bra and t-shirt in hand. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s holding, quickly swinging her hands behind her back to hide the garments. He sees them, though, and it relights his fire even more vigorously than before.

“Shit, Bucky.” She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she relaxed under his intense stare. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten to bring clean clothes with me to the bathroom. I’ll go change right now.” she turns back to her bag to find a pair of pants, laying the garments already in her hand on the couch.

She tenses when she feels a body behind her; a set of hands sliding up her hips, thumbs tracing the outline of her panties over the fabric of her-Bucky’s shirt. She knows his eyes are watching her like a vulture, taking in her legs extending from where his shirt stops, surely imagining what’s hidden underneath. Her breaths come out shaky and she gulps down the lump that has formed in her throat before her eyes flutter closed.

His nose finds its way into her hair, inhaling deeply before exhaling again, his fingers now venturing under the shirt she’s wearing. She feels some kind of warmth spreading where his fingertips graze her skin, just over the fabric of her panties resting on her hip. It’s like his fingers are fire and her hips are timbers – only waiting to be alighted.

“You know…” his voice is still low, just as it was when she encountered him in the bathroom. “I’ve been having a hard time ignoring the looks you’ve sent me.” His fingers slide smoothly from her hip to the middle of her abdomen, slowly tracing small, imaginary circles on her stomach. She shudders under his touch as it brings warmth into her core, and she’s biting her lip to keep a whimper from escaping them.

Bucky was right. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He was handsome, funny and so undeniably nice. She wasn’t sure that the attraction she’d felt towards Bucky for the past few years was reciprocated. She was definitely sure now, that his fingertips we’re playing with the hem of her panties.

“Bucky…” Her eyes flutter open as her hand clasps over his, halting his movements from traveling further south. She turns in his arms, facing him, finally taking in his lust blown eyes, his parted lips and the light blush adorning his cheeks. He looks angelic. Young. It makes her heart leap in her chest.

“Tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me this isn’t just something I’m imagining.” His half-lidded eyes search hers in an attempt to ground himself. His right arm comes around her middle to pull her closer, her hands coming up to lay against his chest. She feels the arousal radiating off him. Warmth, and a little further south, hardness.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop.” His face nears hers, and she feels her heart hammering in her chest. Her breath hitches in her throat when she feels his lips caress hers gently. Just a small graze of soft skin against soft skin, his stubble tickling her chin and his hand tightening its hold on her shirt.

It’s cliché to say that she feels fireworks as his lips grazes hers – maybe from the fact that she’s closer to any man other than her father for the first time, or that she’s just been kissed for the first time. The whole thing is making her head spin, and in that moment, she knows what she has to do.

“We can’t. Not yet,” She breathes out, letting her eyes flutter shut. She feels his warm breath fanning over her lips, the arm around her waist going slack and a deep sigh emitting from Bucky’s throat. He was just about to pull away from her when she grips his shirt in her hands.

“I’m sorry Bucky. I just… You’re my dad’s best friend. I could never look him in the eyes again if we…” she trails off, the embarrassment overcoming her. She looks up at him, eyes glossy from the whirlwind of feelings clashing inside of her. “I’ve never… He’s so strict. I’m sorry if I led you on in any way. I’m not used to male attention.”

Bucky lets out a heartless laugh, taking a step back and brushing her hands off him as if their encounter had never happened. His actions confuse her. He surely must have seen the emotional turmoil she just went through?

“You want burger for dinner? I bought this sauce that’s great with the minced beef.” He turns on his heel and leaves the room without saying anything else. Her brows furrows at his behavior. What the fuck just happened? He leaves her dumbfounded in the living room, her confused eyes following his back until he disappears behind a wall.

In the kitchen, Bucky has pulled out everything he needed to make dinner. His jaw tightens as he goes over her refusal yet again. She’s never what? was his first thought. Then all the pieces clicked when she’d said the next sentence. I’m not used to male attention.

Of course, he knew that she had never been with a guy, let alone a man. Her father told him more than enough, and it made a sinister smile spread along his face, as another branch in his plans takes form.

He will get what he wants.

Friday, 6:32pm

She had expected dinner to be an awkward affair. For her it certainly was – but it seemed like nothing had happened just a few hours before on Bucky’s account. He appeared completely unfazed by his previous actions, and it made her shudder, sitting across from him, picking at her burger. She hears his cutlery hit the plate and her eyes shoot up, seeing the empty plate where his burger had been resting less than five minutes prior.

“So, I’m thinking we have some things to talk about.” His voice startles her, since they had eaten in almost complete silence, the only sound during dinner was the cutlery and chewing.

“What things?” she felt nervous as the words left her mouth, letting her gaze fall back to the burger on her plate. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She’d been cooped up in his study since their encounter in the living room, not ready to face him until she had to.

“Firstly, what happened in the bathroom.” Her eyes shot up, his eyes looking directly into hers. Her mouth falls open, before closing again. She feels the blush creeping up into her cheeks. “I find it only fair that you’ve seen me masturbate, and I you, seeing that you did touch yourself in the shower.”

Her eyes widen impossibly more, a lump forming in her throat as she took in his words. “You… You watched me?” She blinked before her eyes sought to her burger yet again, the embarrassment becoming too much. How he had noticed her, was a mystery. Surely, she’d heard him leave, but she hadn’t heard him return. Maybe she was caught up in her thoughts… But she was quiet. Wasn’t she? Was there something he wasn’t-

“I heard you through the door, darling. You’re very loud. You know that, right?” She lets out a shaky breath before standing from her seat, backing a few steps from the table, into the living room. She watches as Bucky rises from his seat as well, following her as she tried to make the space bigger between the two of them.

Bucky looks at her longingly. He had to admit she looked breathtaking, even though she was scared and angry. There was a slight twinkle in her eye though, one of which could be a hope to escape whatever he had in store for her. It dawned on Bucky, that she probably had no idea what he had planned to do to her, and he smirked when her eyes darted around, not being able to focus on anything.

“What is you want from me, Bucky?” Her voice was shaking when she finally spoke. He shook his head with a slight laugh. She must have known by now. He basically told her everything in the living room. Confessed his feelings for her. Admitting without words.

“Oh baby… You’re still so innocent.” Her back hit the wall of his living room, her breath hitching in her throat. He came impossibly closer, caging her up against the wall. “Come on now… We tried this the easy way. Give into me.”

His hand tangled in her hair before he buried his nose in it, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. With a hand tightly fisting her hair, the other found its way under her shirt. She let out a sob as she felt the cup give into Bucky’s pull, the soft flesh of her breast spilling out of the cup.

“Bucky please…” She tried to reason, trying to turn away from his grasp. She felt his hand leave her hair to hold her throat as the hand under her shirt it made its way down her torso, popping the button of her pants.

She froze as his fingers slid into her panties, her eyes widening in surprise. It surprised her that the hold on her neck had the effect on her it did – it scared her as well.

“What are you- no!” she cried out as she felt one of his fingers burying itself into her entrance. Another digit joined the first shortly after, making her gasp. Bucky had her trapped, and he enjoyed it. His hand left her throat and found her cheek, stroking a fallen tear away lovingly while he pushed his fingers deeper into her, his thumb grazing her clit roughly.

“I’ll make you feel good. I promise, baby.” His fingers picked up the pace as she felt a coil tighten in her stomach. She tried to fight the pleasure that was forced upon her, the tears falling from her eyes freely by now. She felt the coil snap, and with a cry she came around Bucky’s fingers reluctantly. Her cunt clenching around his fingers felt like heaven, and at that moment, he was sure this was what heaven felt like.

“Such a good girl. You like that, huh baby?” His breath fanned over her face, the air coming off as cold on her drying cheeks. She shook her head with a sob, sucking in a breath through her nose, even though she desperately wanted to agree.

She felt Bucky retract his fingers from her panties, bringing them to his lips before sucking them into his mouth. Watching his fingers covered in her slick disappearing between his lips made her heart hammer impossibly harder in her chest.

“So goddamn sweet. Like honey, darling. You’re just hiding this sweet pussy, huh?” His filthy words take her aback, and her mouth falls open in shock. She doesn’t know what to say. Baffled, she barely feels when he lifts her by the thighs, carrying her into his bedroom, where he throws her on the bed. As her back collides with his soft covers, she’s finally pulled out of the trance.

“Bucky…” her voice is quivering as his hands tug her pants down her legs, goosebumps rising as she feels his stubble against her thighs, her calves, her feet. His lips trace their way up the inside of her legs, her eyes widening again as she realizes what he’s doing now.

“Bucky, please, don’t!” she whimpers, but to no avail. Bucky buries his nose into her mound, inhaling her scent, just as the words leave her mouth. She whimpers when she realized it feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

“Such a lovely girl… Such a lovely pussy…” His words unsettle her, making her stomach twist. She tries to push at his head with her hands, whining as she feels his teeth nip at her clit. He can feel her panicking underneath him, and it makes him smile.

She feels the fabric tighten against her skin before she hears it tear, and shortly after his mouth latches onto her clit. She silently sobs out, arms and legs thrashing about. His hands push up her legs, at the same time collecting her hands in his, tightening his hold on her. She feels the ability to move becoming harder, and she sobs again out as his tongue flicks her clit harshly.

“Stay still, darling… Or this will get worse.” Her eyes widen as she takes in his words. Worse? What could be worse than this? She was unable to kick him, unable to slap him. She was unable to push him away, unable to stop him from invading her body.

In her haze, she barely registers her climax building before it hits her, making her cry out as ecstasy takes over her body. The muscles in her legs tighten around him, her whole body shaking from the earth-shattering orgasm unlike anything she’s ever felt before. Her mind is in a haze so deep, she could barely tell right from wrong anymore.

Having Bucky in between her legs felt so right, like the two of them fit together as puzzle pieces. At the same time, she knew it was wrong – so wrong. She felt herself thrash around from her oversensitivity; her mind completely detached from her body. Her gaze fell to where Bucky was placed between her legs, and she let out a moan at how sinful he appeared, his pupils blown wide, and a wide grin plastered on his face.

She shivered at the feral look in his eyes as he peppered kisses up her stomach, pushing up her shirt and pulling down her bra, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. She let out a wanton moan, for a short moment forgetting the situation. His lip around her perked nipples is making her pussy gush with want. She watches as he pulls his shirt over his head, baring his muscular torso to her prying eyes.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He breathes out against her skin, goosebumps rising on her skin where his breath had hit. “You’re not gonna want any other man than me when I’m done with you.” She feels his hands working in between her legs, her senses kicking in when she realizes his hands are working on unbuttoning his pants.

Tears start streaming down her face again, her head thrashing around, whimpers leaving her mouth as fear takes over her body for real. Her hands come to rest against his shoulders, trying to push him away. “Bucky, please…” she whimpers, trying to restrain him from taking her most sacred possession from her, but to no avail.

With one swift thrust he pushes inside of her. She shuts her eyes tightly, the pain unimaginable. There’s a soaring pain in between her legs, with Bucky’s cock stretching her ever so painfully. She realizes he’s stopped moving, letting her body adjust to him as her walls pulsed around his throbbing member. Whimpers are leaving her mouth, short puffs of breaths landing against the skin of his pectoral muscle.

Bucky smirks triumphantly down at her. Knowing he had been her first stirred something inside him. A sob escaped her as she started to cry audibly, his hands sliding down her sides to grasp her hips in his hands. He locks her legs around his waist, driving himself deeper into her, his thrusts hard and pace increasing. He watches her face through half-lidded eyes, soft groans falling from his lips.

Her walls were milking him, her body begging for him to come. He buries his face into the crook of her shoulder as his thrusts picks up the pace further, uncontrollable and with no rhythm at all. He’s thrusting into her most sensitive spot, earning a few moans from her lips before she’s coming undone around him, her body trembling as her walls convulsed around Bucky’s cock, tears streaming down her cheeks. She feels Bucky burying himself deeply inside her before he’s coming right after her with a load groan.

His hair is tickling her nose – she can smell his scent – pine, fresh air, Bucky. It suddenly felt alright. A sense of calm washes over her, the sense of familiarity making her relax slightly. As she feels him shift on top of her, her mind goes back into freeze mode, her eyes widening as he lifts his torso off hers. The two of them were still connected.

Bucky found her scent intoxicating, and he knew she weren’t done yet. He wasn’t done yet. Her expression turned into fear, unlike anything Bucky had seen before. “Baby, don’t look at me like that…” His voice was sulky, as if he didn’t deserve to attend to her fear.

“We’re nowhere near done yet.”

Fear surged through her body as the words fell from his lips. She didn’t want this. Not again. She wanted to cry and scream for him to stop. She had spilled so many tears already, and her screaming had left her throat dry and hoarse.

“Please Bucky…” Her body was tired, and she was emotionally drained. He shifted on top of her, his hands grasping her ankles and flipping her over before lifting her hips, bringing her to her hands and knees. He got on his knees behind her, just as she pushed her face into the bedsheets, letting out a sob as his hands brushed their way up the skin of her back.

“God you’re so delicate. Like a petal of the most exquisite rose.” She felt his breath on her butt cheeks. She let out a sob, realizing how close he actually was to her most private area. She felt his teeth bite into her left cheek and heard him let out a hum of appreciation.

“So good for me, huh baby?” The sob she let out just seconds before had escalated into full on crying – only lacking tears since she was so tired. She’s begging him to let her go, to stop for now, but she knew he wouldn’t listen. She felt his hands grab at her waist roughly, positioning himself and plunging back inside of her used cunt.

It didn’t even sound like she was screaming. Maybe all it was, was a weak screech and she quickly gave up, letting him have his way with her overly sensitive body. She was still wet – her come and his mixing together inside of her. Bucky used it as makeshift lube, sliding into her easily. Her hands turned into fists as she realized his hold on her hips would make it impossible for her to wiggle away from him.

A soft yelp left her lips as the newfound position made his thrusts seem impossibly deeper. She could hear Bucky hum behind her, compliment her as he took her, letting her know how pleased he was to finally have her. She tried to cancel out the sound of their bodies meeting – wet and slick sounds of his cock plunging its way deeply inside of her, and she gasped as she felt him get rougher again.

He slammed into her, groaning for her to follow him, to come with him, making her cry out. Bucky hit her cervix repeatedly, painfully, again and again until she came a fourth time, her body pulling and clenching around him, begging him to let go, and he came yet again with a loud groan.

He stroked her back lovingly as he almost collapsed against her back, her legs quivering underneath the weight of their bodies. It took Bucky a while to remove himself from her, but when he did, he didn’t hesitate to clean her up thoroughly, making sure she was perfect for him.

“Come on darling, roll over for me.” Bucky commanded, and she simply let out a deep breath and moaned. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have the strength and the will anymore. All she wanted to do was to hide away from the world. From Bucky.

“Roll over for me.” He said again, this time punctuating all four words, rolling his eyes as she let out a whine in protest. He ended up grabbing her waist and turning her over himself, laying her down before laying down himself and pulling her into his arms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” his hands slid down the curve of her waist, fingers drawing imaginary circles on her hipbone. She let out a huff before hiding her face in his neck, feeling her eyes wet with tears yet again. They slid down her cheek and landed in the crevice of his collarbone, pooling among droplets of sweat from their sex.

“You did so good, darling. I’m so proud of you.” A wracked sob left her at his words. She felt him bury his nose into her hair, his lips peppering kisses onto her scalp as he softly shushed her, his arms gently rocking her as he let her cry.

“It’s all gonna be okay darling, I’ll take care of you.” With that, she fell into a dreamless slumber.

Saturday, 9:21am

Bucky watched her as the soft morning sun peeked through his curtains, which wasn’t drawn the whole way. Her eyelashes laid softly against her rosy cheeks; her eyelids still puffy from the crying she did last night. His eyes studied her face calmly before traveling down her naked, uncovered body, his head propped up on his arm, his temple laying against his fist.

His eyes fell on her breasts, admiring her perked nipples and the small stretchmarks pointing to the rosy bud. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his fingers reaching out to graze the soft skin under her breast. His hand made its way down the curve of her waist, pushing down the covers laying against her skin.

As her navel was revealed, Bucky felt his cock twitch. Images from last night of her body underneath him filled his mind, how good she felt around his cock, how deliciously sinful her moans had filled his ears, how fucking good her slick tasted on his tongue… He was definitely in deep.

How she managed to calm herself down after more than two hours of crying and sobbing through what he had forced upon her, to now look more peaceful and beautiful as ever blew his mind. Her eyelids fluttered before she shifted slightly, her hand coming up to rub at her eyes.

He didn’t fight the want to stroke at her hair, so that’s what he did. He lifted his hand and pushed a strand behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheekbone afterwards. To Bucky’s surprise she leaned into his touch, a small smile tugging at her lips.

It dawned on him that she, at this moment, wasn’t awake enough to remember what had transpired last night. She stretched her arms in front of her, hands landing against Bucky’s shoulder and pectoral muscles, and her eyes fluttered open quickly as she withdrew her hands hurriedly.

“Bucky?” her voice quivered before her bottom lip started wobbling – her face twisting with realization. Her eyes widened at her undressed state, not fully covered by the covers, and she yanked the fabric up to cover her breasts while sitting up slightly.

“Morning beautiful.” He watched as her muscles tensed before she relaxed slightly. Her lips move on their own accord as she whispers out a morning. “How are you feeling?” His hand came out to grasp hers, and she lets him take it.

“A little bit sore…” his thumb grazes over the back of her hand and she watches it as it slides over the skin, tracing the path of the veins trailing underneath the flesh. “I uh…” She bites her lip as she twists her hand in his, grasping his hands in hers.

“Mhm, what is it darling? Don’t go being all shy on me now” He watched her hand in his, feeling his heart jump slightly, feeling some sort of domestication by looking at her. The words that left her mouth shortly after took him by surprise.

“Can I see it?” she sucked her lip back between her teeth before she let out a giggle. “Your cock?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open at her choice of words before he let the covers slide down his body slowly, revealing his semi-hard cock to her. The sight of it made her inhale sharply, taking in the size of it. She realized she had barely seen it the previous day in the bathroom, since it looked even bigger now. Was that really inside of her last night? Bucky felt a smile tug on his lips as he watched her face, contorted in admiration.

“You can touch it… Come on, I’ll show you how.” He watches as she bites her lip, before the hand that was holding hers tugged her hand down to his cock. She shifts closer to him as her fingers graze over the length of his cock, before gripping the base softly, nimble fingers wrapping around his girth.

His cock is heavy and warm in her hand, pulsing beneath her fingers. It somehow makes her mouth water, and she feels a sudden urge to do more than just jerk Bucky off. She doesn’t give into the temptation though, deciding that this should be enough for now. She hears Bucky suck in a breath as he watches her.

“Just like that, move your hand up and down slowly, maybe tighten your grip a little bit… when you get to the head…” She did as he told her, watching as her fingers pulls the foreskin down, before coming back up to the head of his cock. Her head whips around as she hears a groan leave his lips.

His eyes were hooded, watching her movements, eyes scanning over her body, before coming up to her face. “God you’re beautiful…” She tightened her hand further, quickening her movements. She looked into his eyes and held his gaze as she pumped his cock. There was something in his eyes – she couldn’t quite place what she saw. She watched as his brows furrowed, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath coming out heavier and another groan spilling from his lips.

She twisted her head just as she felt his cock tense in her hand, watching the way white ropes of cum landing against the skin of his stomach, some pooling into his bellybutton, along with another strangled groan falling from his lips. Her lips tugged into a smile, his hand coming up to grasp the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep, heavy kiss.

She felt the same feeling as she did just under a day earlier, when he had kissed her in the living room. Sparks flying, undeniably. As her lips parted from his, he smiled. His eyes scanned over her reddened cheeks before trailing over her lips, pulling back from her to give her space.

“What would you like for breakfast, baby?” The words were softly spoken, and she smiled as he sat up slightly, awaiting your answer. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, not really sure if she was in the mood to eat something. Her stomach was still a bit uneasy from the events of yesterday, but she managed to get out the word smoothie, along with her best doe-eyes.

After Bucky rolled out of bed and left his bedroom to clean himself up and make her breakfast, she let out a celebratory sigh and fell back against one of his pillows. She hoped that her efforts in seeming interested in his actions would help, so he wouldn’t force her into things she didn’t want.

She leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed the discarded shirt, pulling it over her head. She quietly padded over to her bag, pulling the whole bag into her arms and walking to the bathroom, before locking herself in. She stepped into the shower stall, turning the water on and twisting the handle, feeling the water getting warmer and warmer, up until the point where it was scalding her skin.

She whimpered before fully submerging herself underneath the searing water, scrubbing the insides of her thighs violently until she felt the skin grow sore and sensitive. She sobbed out as her fingers came into contact with her sensitive folds, washing away the remains of what Bucky had done to her the night before.

Just as she thought of him, she felt her heart drop in her chest when she heard a knock on the bathroom door. She hadn’t even heard him approaching, and now he was just outside the door. She silently begged that he wouldn’t speak or ask her for anything, but it seemed like luck wasn’t on her side today either.

“Baby, breakfast’s ready.” She felt the goosebumps of disgust run down her back, even though the water was still burning her skin. Just the sound of his voice made her uncomfortable, made her guts turn uncomfortably in her stomach, which made her regret once again ever coming here with him in the first place.

“Baby?” He knocked again, making her heart clench in her chest before she answered him quietly that she was almost done, before she turned off the water, rubbing her body roughly with one of the towels laid out in one of the cabinets.

“Just a second.” She took a look in the mirror and gasped as she noticed the bruises littering her neck, arms, stomach, thighs. She had no idea how she was going to hide them from her parents. She scrambled through her bag, pulling out as many covering pieces of clothing she could possibly muster before covering up her body.

Saturday, 10:08am

When she entered the kitchen, the delicious smell of pancakes filled her nostrils and she sighed in content. She took in the table – Bucky had placed all of her favorite fruits in separate bowls and made her a smoothie. The pancakes were even chocolate chip. She felt both agitated and sure of herself, until the second she sat down.

“So, I was really your first, huh?” Was the first question that left Bucky, a smirk plastered on his face. She felt the redness fill her cheeks before she nodded, not really wanting to engage in a conversation with him. She grabbed a handful of blueberries, stuffing them into her mouth and chewing on the sweet fruits.

“You know… The way your body reacted to how I fucked you… How you moaned… Cried out my name… How your tight pussy strangled my cock…” Bucky smirked as he grabbed his cup of coffee, bringing it to his lips before blowing on the surface, gently. “Could get used to that.”

She felt her heart pick up its pace in her chest, hammering against her ribcage as she sat stiff with her hands in her lap, too embarrassed to look at him. She fought her embarrassment though and looked up to where he was sitting through her lashes – he was exploring his molars with his tongue with his eyebrow cocked, watching her. Smug son of a bitch.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous, darling. Dig in! I made everything you asked for while you were hiding in my bathroom. You could at least appreciate the effort.”

Her eyes shot down, not wanting to meet his. The tone in his voice made her shiver. She reluctantly reached out and grabbed the smoothie off the table, bringing the straw to her lips before sucking the sweet fluid into her mouth. The taste of strawberry and blackberry lingered on her tastebuds, along with a tangy flavor she had trouble placing. She looked up at Bucky again.

“Bucky… I think I would like to go home today.” She shivered as she thought about what happened last night. What could happen again. She feared it would. She took another sip of the smoothie followed by another, and placed it on the table, truly hoping Bucky would give in and let her go.

She was wrong.

His smile was wide as he watched her drink more than half of the smoothie, just waiting for the triazolam to take its toll on her nervous system. He knew the pills for his incurable insomnia would come in handy someday, and he mentally high fived himself as he noticed her getting groggier.

“This should solve your sleeping problem, Mr. Barnes. I wouldn’t normally advise for this, but if you’re in need of a faster effect, crush them into some water and ingest it shortly before going to bed.”

And that was exactly what Bucky had done when making her smoothie. The remains of the white powder in the porcelain mortar resting in the sink was the only evidence of his scheme at this point. He had everything planned – down to the last detail. Everything he had to do by the time she would wake up from her pill-induced sleep.

“You know, darling, there’s so much I want to show you. To teach you.” Bucky slowly got out of his chair, picking a few fruits from the bowls, before chucking them into his mouth. “That’s why I need you to stay here, with me. Until we die.”

“Bucky, I… what’s happening?” she looked up at him with fearful eyes, her sight blurring Bucky into a blob of dark and fair tones before returning back to being clear as day. “I’m scared. Please.”

“You’re gonna sleep for a little bit,” he crouched down beside her chair and her eyes widened as her brain caught up with what her ears were hearing. “But I’ll make sure to take good care of you while you’re sleeping, I promise.” She felt his hand wipe a stray piece of hair from her face, pushing it behind her ear before he placed a kiss on her cheek.

Everything went black before her eyes, and her head landed heavily in Bucky’s hands. He watched as her eyes rolled around in her head, unable to focus on anything before finally falling closed, a sigh escaping her lips.

Bucky lifted her out of the chair gently, admiring her soft features before walking her to his bedroom. Her soft breathing was warm against his neck as he held her in his arms, one of the only things letting her know she was still sentient. He laid her on the bed carefully before beginning to rid her of all the clothes she had hidden herself in.

“Oh, you silly girl… Trying to hide from me. Trying to get me to let you go…” he carefully tugged down her jeans, throwing them on the floor. He lifted her leg off the bed, placing a kiss on top of her foot. His eyes follow the length of her legs, all the way up her body. Her beautiful body. “I’ll never let you go. You’re mine now.”

Saturday, ?

She let out a small groan before turning on to her back – or so she thought. Her eyes flew open before she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes – or tried to. She groggily looked up at her hand and let out a gasp when she found it fixated to the bedpost. She whipped her head around and found the other fastened likewise, letting out a tiny whimper.

She clenched her fists, giving the restraints another tug but to no avail. She lifted her head slightly, looking around, and let out another whimper when she noticed she was in Bucky’s bedroom yet again. She shivered when she heard his voice, coming from behind her.

“So, you’re finally awake. Took you long enough, darling.” she gasped when she felt his fingers slide through her folds and into her wet cunt. It felt different than the last time he did it, though. Like something was in the way. It felt good, though.

“You know, it’s actually quite impressive how the human body reacts to arousing touch. I’ve been toying with your clit for more than an hour, drawing a few orgasms from you and you’re still just as responsive… So, I wanted to try something new.”

She gasped when she felt his fingers swirl themselves inside her and then against the back of her tight cunt. Her eyes widened as her mind suddenly cleared itself enough for her to feel the expansion of her tight ring of muscle. She struggled to move her legs, giving up when she realized they were tied to the foot of the bed, spread wide.

“For someone who was a virgin in both holes just yesterday, I have to say I’m impressed. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock… I can’t wait to fuck this tight ass of yours… To see if it’s just as good as your cunt.”

Her eyes widened as she felt his hand leave the warmth of her pussy, swirling around the gem of the butt plug seated snugly within her tight rim. She gasped loudly when she felt Bucky slowly retracting the plug, not letting the widest part pass the rim before pushing the plug back in. She let out a wanton moan as it fell back into place.

“I’m gonna fuck your pussy while this plug is filling you up, and then I’m gonna fuck your tight ass…” She heard Bucky slide down the mattress before his lips found her soaking cunt, emitting a loud moan from her. Her mind was still hazy from her slumber, she struggled with finding the words for a few moments. “Yeah, you like that?”

“Bucky…” she whimpered weakly as a surge of pleasure shot through her veins. “Please don’t, Buck…” She had trouble focusing on anything, she wasn’t sure where Bucky’s lips lingered anymore. She registered the rip of a foil packet, and just after, she felt the thickness of Bucky’s cock filling her slick pussy to the limit.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl…” Bucky moans loudly as he bottoms out, the pressure from the plug in her ass straining against his cock. He leans down and peppers a string of kisses on her cheek, admiring her as her mouth hung open, short puffs of breaths pushing their way past her plump lips.

Her eyes are shut tightly, her eyebrows drawing a thin line between pleasure and pain. As of that moment, he can’t tell which is which. Tears are slowly framing her eyes, though still not giving the emotion away.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, and Bucky bites his lips to restrain himself, but the intoxicating way her pussy grasps his cock tightly, the sweet pink gem resting just above his cock has his mind spiraling into pleasure. He grabs her hips and thrusts into her harshly, pushing the tears out of her eyes and the cries out of her mouth with every thrust.

His hips slam against hers within a few thrusts, and it’s making her see stars. His cock is grazing her most sensitive places with every thrust, and everything seems to blacken before her eyes as hot floods shoot through her veins, her orgasm so intense her whole body is shaking.

She herself doesn’t know whether it was in pleasure or in pain either, but it was definitely something in between. She had never felt a feeling so indescribably enormous; she had never felt so full. She whimpered when Bucky pulled himself out of her, eyes widening as she came back to herself, feeling the plug being retracted slowly.

“I can’t hold back darling, fuck you make it so hard…” she gasped when the plug slid out easily, whimpering as she felt liquid smear against her fluttering, sensitive ring of muscle, the coolness slithering down between her sensitive lips, staining the mattress below her.

She bites her lip harshly as she feels the tip of Bucky’s cock prod against her tightening rim. It was a whole other feeling than the plug. Where the plug was cold and somewhat hard, Bucky’s cock was warm, wide and rigid. She clenches her jaw as his cock breaches her, the sting unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“Come on baby, let me hear you…” Bucky gritted through his teeth, just beside her ear. She clenches her jaw even tighter, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear the effect he had on her. The breaths she sucked in through her nose were uneven and ragged, the pain caused by his cock almost unbearable.

“Fucking relax, baby… You’re just making it harder for yourself…” She didn’t know how deep he was inside of her and she didn’t wanna know either. She had never felt dirtier than she did in this exact moment, and she shut her eyes tightly, wishing herself invisible. She felt his hands grasp a butt cheek each, before spreading them apart, thrusting his hips, slowly entering her deeper.

“That’s it baby…” she whined as she felt his hips still against hers, his pelvis resting snugly between her spread cheeks. His mouth found her ear and she whimpered as the next words that left his lips sunk in. “Such a good slut for me, taking all of my cock in her tight ass…”

His hand moved around her hip, squeezing itself between her body and the mattress, sliding down in between her legs where her soaking pussy had been abandoned. His fingers swirled around the bundle of nerves, the small jolts of his thrusts mixing with the pleasure from his fingers pushing her over the edge.

She let out a scream as she came around his cock, her ass gripping him tighter than he had ever felt before in his life. Out of all the women he had ever fucked, she was by far the tightest he had ever experienced. Her whole body shook beneath him, hands tightly fisting the bedsheets as her ass strangled his cock, begging for him to release his seed within.

Bucky’s cock felt so massive as she tried to come down from her startling high, the jolts of her body seemingly calming down slightly. “Bucky please… You’re too big, I can’t…” she cried out as her oversensitivity took over, trying to push the foreign intrusion out. His movements stung against her sore ring of muscle, making her wail further.

Bucky ignored her pleas and pushed his hips tighter against hers before retracting himself halfway, pushing in again. He groaned into her ear as he fucked her ass, showing her no mercy as he searched for his own release. He cursed out as he found the angle unable to grant him what he so desperately longed for.

He untied her right leg first, followed by the left before bringing her knees under her body, to fuck her in his favorite position. She whined as he pulled out of her ass completely, before leaning down to lick a firm stripe through her folds. She didn’t know how he managed to make her feel as dirty as he did, but it was amplified even further when he spat at her ass.

He cursed behind her at the sight of her, and shortly after she felt another wet dollop of lube slither between her cheeks. He easily slid his cock back into her ass, sighing out as her warmth once again engulfed his cock completely. He was never, ever going to let her go. Not when she could make him feel like this by just fucking her.

His release came just as quickly as she had hoped. Within three more strokes, he buried himself to the hilt, bit her earlobe harshly and spilled himself into the condom. She felt the pulsing of the convulsions in his cock more prominently in her ass, and she distracted herself from the pain by counting every spurt of his cum that landed within the latex with every jerk of his cock.

“Good girl.” He whispered as he gripped around his cock, securing the condom before pulling out of her, slowly. She whimpered as he left her body, and he groaned at the sight of her ring of muscle fluttering and contracting around nothing.

Bucky slid off the bed after pulling the condom off, tying the end and left for the bathroom. She felt a tear escape her eye as she pushed her legs back to lie flat before lifting her head, turning it to look in the direction of the bathroom. Bucky emerged with a damp towel, in all his naked glory, walking over to her with a victorious smirk.

“You did so good my darling… Such a good obedient girl for her daddy.” He talked sweet nonsense as he cleaned between her legs. She hissed as the damp cloth came in contact with her swollen ass, and again when he swiped it between her folds, gathering her slick. “Have you changed your mind yet, darling? Or do I need to teach you another lesson?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, sucking her lip in between her teeth. “Changed my mind about what?”

She felt a hard slap on her butt. “Don’t play dumb, baby. It’s not a good look on you. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She whimpers as his hand grazes along the angry, red protrusion of the skin where his hand had landed.

“Please, I want to go home Bucky.” She whimpered, closing her eyes as she felt the tears flow freely from her eyes. She felt another harsh slap against har already sensitive skin, then another.

“Wrong answer.”

“Bucky you can’t keep me locked up here forever!” She cried out, tugging on the restraints again, with what little power she had left after what he had just put her through, and the grogginess from the drugs, still in her system. Bucky leaned all the way into her ear, whispering out yet another sinister thing, that made her whole body crumble in fear.

“If that’s what it takes.”

He left her then, only pulling the sheet over her ass to cover her private parts. She didn’t know how long she spent in his bed, tied up like some animal. She could hear him somewhere in the house, humming along to some tune playing on the radio, which she couldn’t make out.

She was getting cold, falling asleep sporadically along with goosebumps rising on her skin as silent tears slid down her cheeks into the pillow. She felt exposed and used. Used by a man she trusted with her life. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She imagined that she could’ve been wrapped up in her comforter at home, watching some boring Netflix series instead of laying tied up here.

She felt scared. Even more scared than she’d felt just after Bucky had violated her for the first time. She’d never felt so helpless before, and it made her even more scared of what Bucky would do to her if he got the chance. It was getting dark out, and she knew that it would either improve or deteriorate her chances of escaping. She didn’t know where to escape to, though.

She knew she had to get out of his house as soon as possible. She knew she had to get in contact with her parents somehow, despite the fact that she didn’t want to anymore. She didn’t know where her phone had ended up in all of this mess, but she knew Bucky usually slept with his by the bed. Either she could wait for that opportunity, or she could try to escape.

She wiggled her toes slightly, trying to get some of the blood down there again. She twisted her knees slightly, trying to pull them up under her again. She thanked the heavens that she was flexible when she managed to pull her right knee up under her, followed by the other.

She slowly rose to her knees, sitting back on her ass. She looked towards the door, cracked open slightly. The faint smell of something cooking filled her nostrils and she heard her stomach rumbling. She had no recollection of when she last had something to eat.

It was this morning, that much she knew. But she didn’t know what time it was by now. How long she’d been out, how long he’d been in the bedroom with her, how long she’d been laying there alone.

She took in the expert knots that had her hands tied to the headboard, reminding her that her dad and Bucky had served in the military together, and that they both had some knowledge about rope and knots. They’d even taught her some, so she could easily make out which one he’d tied her up with.

The double constrictor knot tied twice on both her wrists made her eyes fill with tears yet again. There was no way she would be able to pull the knots open with her teeth. Yet she found herself trying. And… on top of that, she really needed to pee.

She examined the knot before slowly making out the placement of the ends and where they were cut off. She reached forward and trapped one loop in between her teeth, pulling slightly. She sighed happily when she felt it give in, and she pulled one end through easily. Way too easily.

She repeated the action one more time, pulling the end over and through on the other side, one knot coming completely undone. She nodded at herself when the first rope fell to the pillow under her, making everything seem a little bit easier.

Three more to go.

She prayed that Bucky didn’t make an appearance, otherwise she’d be fucked. She leaned forward and examined the next knot on the same wrist, leaning forward when she located the end of it.

She winced when the ropes on the wrist she wasn’t working on tugged the rash on her skin even deeper. She needed to get out of there, and she needed to get out of there now. Panic settled in her stomach when she heard footsteps from somewhere in the house, tears spilling out of her eyes yet again.

“Come on, come on…” the knot finally gave in and she breathed out in relief, grinning slightly when her fingers started loosening the knots on her other wrist. She was so close to freeing her wrist, so close to relief from emptying her bladder… So close to escaping from Bucky.

“Baby…” She instantly freezes when she hears his voice from the door. “What are you doing?” She lets out a breath, feeling the tears re-wetting the paths on her cheeks that had dried earlier. Her cheeks redden, embarrassed that he’s caught her.

“Bucky, I…” she starts, turning her head slowly to look at him. He’s standing in the doorway with a tray of food for her, for them. How had she not noticed the amazing smell filling the room much earlier? How long had he even been standing there? She was so caught up in escaping she hadn’t even heard him.

She’s not sure whether the words that leave her mouth are just plain stupid or smart. Either way, his eyes soften just a bit when she speaks. “I just really have to pee.” She watches as he puts down the tray on his bedside table before he leans forward, loosening the remaining knots.

“Why didn’t you just call for me, baby? I would’ve come and helped you so you wouldn’t tear your lips like that.” His thumb grazes her lip, making her wince slightly. She hadn’t noticed the skin being mangled from the roughness of the rope. “Jesus baby, you look awful.”

She winces again when his fingers glide over her cheekbone, before they help her loosen the last knots around her wrists. She slides off the bed with a whimpering thank you, her legs slightly unstable as she staggers her way to the bathroom. She shuts the door softly before finally getting the relief she’s been craving.

Once finished, she tries for the small window in the bathroom. She knows she isn’t going to fit through, but she’s trying anyway. The window doesn’t budge, even when all laches are off and clattering against the glass. She knows Bucky can hear her from the bedroom, but at this point she doesn’t care.

“Come on. Dinner is ready.” His voice is just on the other side of the door, letting her know just how close he was. By the looks of it, there was no way she was ever going to be left alone again. Her foot slipped from her getting dizzy when she stepped on the bathmat to wash her hands, causing her to let out a yelp.

The door was yanked open just as she steadied herself against the marble countertop, catching Bucky’s eyes in the mirror when she looked up. Traces of nervousness swirled in his eyes, and she wondered why. “Jesus, I thought you hurt yourself, baby.”

He watched her every move as she washed her hands, dried them off before throwing them around her body, shielding her still naked body from him. He observed the way goosebumps littered her arms and legs, making his heart clench in his chest. He swiftly manhandled her into a t-shirt, before handing her a pair of panties.

He watched as she slid them on weakly, before grabbing her hand and leading her back to the bed. “Come on,” he spoke softly, as he sat her down and placed the tray in front of her, urging her to eat by bringing a forkful of food to her lips. “You need your strength.” She squeezed her lips together, not fully trusting him with her food since the incident this morning.

“Don’t worry.” He grabbed her hand, his thumb sliding over the soft skin, “It’s just food this time. No drugs.” She looked up at him doe-eyed, desperately trying to just have him leave her. She purses her lips again. “I trust you, baby.”

“I’m not hungry.” She whispered out, pulling her hand from his gently before scooting back just a bit on the bed, to get further away from him. Her stomach grumbled in that moment, letting him know how much of a lie that was. She was starving.

He grabs her jaw, forcing her lips apart before shoving the food in between them. “You eat when I tell you to eat.” He’s somewhat grumpy, it’s easy to see. There’s a glint remorse in his eyes, but she doesn’t believe that he regrets anything he’s put her through. She chews languidly, all while her eyes are trained on her hands in her lap.

“Am I going to have to force feed you, or will you eat on your own accord? Because I don’t care what you choose.” She looks up at him and watches as he scoops another dollop of food onto the fork, bringing it to her lips. She carefully swallows the food already in her mouth before opening up for him to feed her. “Good girl.”

It continues like that, with Bucky taking a few bites in between feeding her. It makes her calm to see him eat from the same portion of food as her, letting her know that he was telling the truth when he made her eat the first bite. No drugs.

He brings the straw resting in a glass of water to her lips after setting the plate back on the tray. She eyes his hands, inspecting the glass intensely. He sighs and rolls his eyes yet understanding her actions. He knows she’s afraid of him, he knows she doesn’t trust her right now.

He brings the straw to his own lips and sucks the cold fluid into his mouth before swallowing, letting her know that the water was safe to ingest as well. She exhales slowly before taking the glass from him, emptying it in one go. She was truly thirsty.

“What time is it?” she tries softly, afraid that Bucky thought she didn’t need to know, since he had no plans of ever letting her go. She’s looking for any sign indicating that he’s carrying his phone. He eyes her for a while, his eyes squinting for just a moment. She looked breathtaking as she sat there, fiddling her fingers.

“Why do you want to know?” She knew it. He’s still watching her, trying to look through her, into her head to figure out what she’s thinking. She tries her best to appear unfazed, just wanting him to tell her the goddamn time.

She feels lost in a whole new way, with the conception of time stripped from her as well. It makes her uneasy on a whole other level. “I just… Wanna know if it’s time for dessert.” She whispers, still afraid to say much. She waits for his reaction anxiously, another wave of uneasiness overcoming her.

Bucky laughs. He actually laughs at her. She furrows her brows as she watches his shoulders shake with every puff of laughter. “You don’t need to know the time…” he has a hard time getting the words out through his laughter, yet he speaks again shortly after.  “Desserts,” he smiles as he turns his head toward her, eyes taking in her serious expression. He smiles warmly at her. “What do you want for dessert?”

“You tell me the time; I tell you what I want for dessert.” He raises his eyebrow at her demand, not really expecting it. She doesn’t know where the surge of confidence came from. She just wanted to know the damn time. Somewhere deep within her, she’s still wondering if he is going to let her go the following day.

“Feisty now, aren’t you?” He jokingly says, well knowing she was, still is, afraid of him. He bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating her offer before he slowly draws out his phone before showing her the time. 9:21pm. So, she had been tied up in his bedroom the whole day. She watched as he pushed it back into his pocket, away from her prying eyes.

“So, darling… You wanted dessert?” he turns back to her and she has shuffled closer to him in the midst of his lack of attention. Her hand reaches out to caress his cheek, startling him. She smiles softly, she doesn’t even know why.

In one way, she wanted to get out of his house as soon as humanly possible but… She found herself not wanting to. Her thoughts were conflicting within her head, confusing her even more than previously. Maybe she just had to play pretend for now, and he would let her go tomorrow?

She found herself slowly losing herself within her thoughts. She had so many conflicting ones, her mind in a flurry about which ones to focus on. Everything came to her while admiring him through her lashes. Every emotion she’s ever felt for him, every memory she had with him. “Yeah. I want you.”

Without words she rises, initiating the contact between them herself. She didn’t know how or why, but she found herself reaching out for his hand. It felt a little alien, but good, nonetheless. It was clear to her that he was taken aback by her actions. She silently straddles his thighs, her ass resting on his knees as she pushes him back to lay against the bed. “I want to do this on my own.” she starts while pulling the shirt over her head.

“You took the choice from me yesterday, and I don’t think that’s fair. Do you?” the sudden surge of confidence in her takes him aback, and he’s laying motionlessly against the mattress, just watching her undress herself on top of him.

He watches as her hands slide over her breasts and down her stomach, teasing him slightly as she snaps the elastic band of her panties against the skin on her hip. She feels him harden underneath her within second of the fabric leaving her torso, and she revels in it.

She was deeply in love with Bucky Barnes. No matter how he wronged her, abused her, used her - she loves him. Maybe she was delusional but having him underneath her set her nerves on fire. She had finally gotten what she wanted.

There was nothing standing in the way of her and Bucky’s relationship anymore. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She was going to give into him, and she was going to enjoy it.

All it had taken, was one small flaw in Bucky’s plan. He’d let it slip, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

Saturday, 03:22am

Opening the messages app on his phone, she quickly searches through the different messages before opening the one with her dad. She knew exactly who she had to call for help. Yet she found something that made her blood turn to ice in her veins. Or, it felt like that, at least.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Slowly, the tears started burning in her eyes, making her vision blurry. The light from his phone blinded her slightly, and she found herself wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, a sob getting stuck in her throat. She just couldn’t believe it.

Right there, on his phone, was a conversation between him and her dad. Her own dad. Her stomach turned as she read through the messages, chest heaving as she tried to calm her erratic breaths.

Steve: You got her calmed yet?

Bucky: No, still squirming and crying. Hoping that she’ll calm down soon.

Bucky: Jesus, she got some lungs on her. I can’t wait to do everything I’ve planned to do to her tomorrow.

Steve: Good. Ruin her. Make sure she doesn’t get away. We need that money.

Bucky: If not, I’ll do what’s necessary. Even though I really don’t want to. You know how I feel about her.

Steve: I couldn’t care less. She isn’t mine anyways.

Her brows furrowed as she read one of the last messages over and over again. What the hell did he mean that I wasn’t his? She felt a strong hand clasp around the wrist of her hand that held the phone in it, forcing a small scream past her lips. She hadn’t even heard Bucky wake up.

“What are you doing?” His eyes were dark and hooded. They were also full of sleep, and she knew he was happy she was still in bed next to him, else she would’ve fallen off the bed. She looked at him through the blue light of the phone, trying to come up with a quick lie to throw him off in his sleepy haze.

“I was just looking at the time.” she tried carefully, the flow of tears drying out slowly. She was shocked, to say the least, but she wouldn’t let him know that she knew... “I usually wake up at night and I always try to track my sleeping pattern…” she had no idea what to say.

She couldn’t believe what she had just read. What did her dad mean? She isn’t mine anyways… The message kept resonating in her head. He huffed and grabbed the phone, turning away from her and resuming his slumber.

Saturday, 9:23pm

She crawled off his lap, standing over him as she undid his pants with quick movements. He lifted his hips to aid her in taking them off, his mind still trying to catch up to what was happening. His boxers followed soon after, his naked glory exposed to her yet again, only this time it was different.

Her hand grasps his cock, giving it a few tugs before she’s closing her lips around the head. He stutters out a moan intertwined with her name, his hands flying into her hair to ground himself. Where the sudden urge to have her lips around his cock was fulfilled, he still didn’t know what she was doing.

All he knew was that it felt heavenly. Her mouth was warm and inviting, her cheeks feeling warm and velvety as she hollowed them against his length. She sucked more than half of his cock into her mouth, causing a deep groan to spill from his lips.

Her hand wrapped around what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, and she slowly stroked his shaft while swirling her tongue around the enlarged head of his cock. She felt his hand tighten in her hair, a string of groans falling from his lips.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around him pushed the panties off her hips languidly and she slowly rose to her feet, still bent over with her lips around his cock. She releases him with a pop, fluttering kisses along his toned abdomen and up his chest before she straddles his hips, gliding the wetness between her legs over the length of him.

His hands find her hips, both his thumbs rubbing circles into her hips, his head thrown back in pleasure. This pleasure is so different than it’s been previously, it’s so full of emotion for him and possibly also from her. It feels tremendously different from all the other times. His head shifts forward and admires her with hooded eyes before they flutter closed.

When she finally sinks down onto his cock with a strained expression, he feels everything shift within him. It’s like the whole orbit of the world changes. She’s struggling with his size, whimpering as she slowly sinks further down onto him. She falls forward, her hands landing just beside his face and he groans out, his eyes slowly reopening to look at her on top of him.

Her cheeks are flushed pink, her eyes prickling with tears and her bottom lip tugged in between her teeth, desperately trying to accommodate to his size. She’s shifting just a little bit, trying to ease the pain between her hips.

Her hand slid under his neck and grasped the short hairs there, closely followed by her lips meeting his. Her hips grinds over his, their lips gliding over each other’s messily, their tongues dancing together. Her soft pants mixed with his, his hands sliding up to rest on her lower back, guiding her gently.

“Oh, Bucky…” she whispers, and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s dreaming. It feels surreal that she’s moaning his name,it makes him twitch inside of her to finally hear his name spill from her lips that way. Hearing her moan his name combined with the tightness of her heat pushes him further and further towards his impending orgasm.

Her walls clench around him and she whimpers ever so sweetly. He knows she’s close. She just needs the final push. She’s still grinding her hips against his, so he angles them slightly for her clit to rub over his pelvic bone.

It doesn’t take more than a few strokes for her orgasm to overtake her, blinding her vision with black spots and making every hair on her body rise. It feels amazing this time around - with herself being in charge of her pleasure.

He’s close - so close - but if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to do right now, it’s to do something she doesn’t want to, however ambivalent that sounds. He restrains himself or tries to. Her hips are still drawing circles over his, and it’s driving him crazy.

“Cum in me,” she whispers in her haze, and she feels his hands tighten on her hips, his pants filling her ears as he empties his load inside of her. She feels at it trickles down around his length still embedded in her heat as she collapses on top of him, laying her head on his chest.

She slowly comes down from euphoria, relaxing into his arms coming around her to rub over her back. Everything slowly comes back to her, settling within her body. The lovestruck haze she has been in for the past half hour, is slowly coming to an end.

She slowly removes herself from on top of him, his seed trailing down her legs as she makes her way to the bathroom to clean herself. He finds her under the shower, quietly entering the stall behind her. She’s caught up in her thoughts, just standing under the stream of water with her arms wrapped around herself.

“I know what you saw last night. I didn’t want you to find out the way you did. We were supposed to be happy together. Live happily, and you would forget everything about everyone. Just you and me, here.” His body was barely against her back before he was pulling her trembling body back into his arms. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking until then.

“You didn’t want me to find out what, exactly?” She tried softly, jaw trembling uncomfortably at the other things he had said. “How are we ever to live happily?” She didn’t know what Bucky expected of her. There was just something she couldn’t imagine. She turned in his arms, looking up at him.

“You’re going to have to promise me that you won’t react poorly to what I’m about to tell you.” Bucky tried carefully, and she felt everything fall apart in the seconds following the words leaving his mouth. How could she not react to anything? “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this, but…”

Tell her what?! Just two days prior she’d been living contently with her parents, and here, a mere 46 hours later… Everything had changed. She watched his face as he searched for the words, his thoughts conflicting visibly in his face.

“Steve… He isn’t your father.” Bucky started, and she felt her heart fall further into her chest. That hurt. “Your mother had someone else around the time you were conceived. Steve has taken a paternity test, and it’s true.” She felt the tears rise to her eyes yet again mixing with the water from the shower, both from the betrayal of Bucky but also from her parents.

“This has all been set up so Steve can claim you as dead. To get money from the insurance company.” He hides his face with his hand, visibly upset that everything has fallen apart. Everything has certainly not worked out the way it was supposed to. “But I’ve changed my mind. I can’t do this to you.”

“But you’ve already done it...” She whispered, before taking his hand in hers. “What changed?” She cradled his face in her other hand, watching him intently as he rubs his hand over his face. It leaves red marks in its wake, letting her know just how hard he’s rubbing the skin.

“We need to make sure he doesn’t get that money” Bucky grabs her face with his hands in an instant, his eyes searching hers intensely. He thinks over her question, licking his lips before he answers.

“Nothing changed. Even though I wanted this to start with, I never even considered getting rid of you. I want you to know that I’ve never looked at you wrongly before you were legal. I couldn’t bring myself to it, even though I knew you weren’t Steve’s. I never ever wanted to hurt you. Because I love you.”

She sighs and for a short while closes her eyes. A few seconds pass where he’s just watching her.

Then one side of her lips tug up into a smirk, before she’s looking at him with a mischievous look in her eyes. They both know what they have to do.

Then she speaks, instantly letting him know that everything is settled between the two of them.

“I love you. Let’s do it.”

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky x you #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes

[sitp-recs]

hi love! Hope you're having a good day ❤ thank you so much for everything you do. I've been craving some really romantic drarry fics lately, do you have any recs? Like fics that make your heart wrench but in the best possible way. Maybe something where one of them just sits there and realizes that "damn. I love him so much"? Sending you lots of love and sunshine, I admire you so much!

Thanks so much anon, this message made my day! Earlier this week I posted a reclist with fics that include the glorious “oh” moment - you can check them here. Btw I love the way you describe it: “fics that make your heart wrench but in the best possible way”! There’s nothing as fulfilling as finding a story where they’re so in love it hurts. I’m listing below a few of my personal favorites combining heart-wrenching romance with soft, low stakes angst. I can’t promise they’ll work for everyone, but I hope you enjoy ;)

Light Years Away by @lettersbyelise (2019, M, 2.5k)

No one told Harry about the training courses young Aurors and Curse Breakers have in common, just like Harry never told anyone about his one-night encounter with Draco Malfoy two months prior.

Still Life by orphan_account (2019, M, 3k)

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

Sun Stroke by @peachpety (2020, E, 4k)

Draco, Harry, and a handful of friends take a summer holiday at the beach. With the help of a sultry sea setting, encouraging friends, and a fisherman’s jumper, Harry and Draco's mutual attraction swells and things get hot on a salty summer night.

Like Gold by @the-sinking-ship (2021, E, 4.5k)

Draco runs away from home on the back of his boyfriend’s motorbike.

Our Little Life by @tackytigerfic (2020, M, 7k)

Sometimes Harry dreams. Only they're not really dreams at all, and Malfoy is always in them. It's time travel, but not as we know it, and Harry just needs a good night's sleep.

the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse (2016, E, 7.5k)

It was nothing so elegant as fucking, the first time they came together. It was teeth just a little too sharp— against a collarbone, on the right-side curve of a jaw, drawing blood from the plushest part of a bottom lip.

Stories in E Minor by huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, M, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Evolution by @potteresque-ire (2016, E, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

White as Snow by @bixgirl1 (2018, E, 19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

A Hyperactive Fruit, a Nasty Neighbour and a Love Story by synonym4life (2017, E, 20k)

Potter’s pet Niffler is wreaking havoc in Godric’s Hollow and Draco, the Assistant Head to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is the one who has to deal with it. Repeatedly.

Nice Things by aideomai (2020, M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Waiting By An Open Door by Femme and noeon (2017, E, 29k)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Against All Odds by momatu (2015, E, 53k)

Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present.

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by @writcraft (2018, E, 65k)

Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (2018, M, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Far From the Tree by aideomai (2020, E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #romance

[wagner-fell]

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.

#mari the werewolf #mari machado sotomayor #mari machado #kit rook #kit herondale #astrid yang #blessica reyes #Kevin chu #tessa grey #jem carstairs #lily chen #mina carstairs

[songtoyou]

Chapter 20: Return to Arrow House - Part Two

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,206

Warnings: Swearing. Talk of a deceased loved one.

Story Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Snippet: Meanwhile, Louis stayed up in the guest room, playing a game on his phone. It wasn't until Louis heard a knock at the door that he looked up from the phone. Thinking it was his mother, Louis told the person on the other side to come in. Much to his surprise, it was Tommy.

"How are you holding up?" the older man asked the teenager.

"I'm fine," Louis answered. "Is there something you need?"

Tommy shifted on his feet and looked down at the floor. "Do you mind if the two of us go for a walk around the property? I have a feeling you have questions you want to ask me, so let's get it all out in the open."

"I only have questions because I'm protective of my mum."

A/N: I wish I could be faster in updating this fic, but I have been dealing with some anxiety issues. So, please be patient with me. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars @mamacitapascal @lilymurphy03​

"Holy shit," Louis muttered under his breath as Tommy pulled the car into the grandiose driveway of Arrow House.

Parking the car in one of the garages, Tommy got with Charlie following along.

Rose unbuckled her seat belt and turned around to face Louis, still in the back seat. "What a beautiful house, huh," She stated and added, "Come on, let's get going."

With a sigh, Louis got out of the car to retrieve his suitcase from the trunk.

"You don't need to worry about those, Louis. I'll someone come out to get the luggage and put them in our rooms. The house has four bedrooms, a large kitchen, a dining room, and two living rooms," said Tommy as he wrapped an arm around Rose's shoulder and guided her and the boys into the large house.

The foursome was met by an older woman coming down the staircase. "Mr. Shelby, so glad to see you. Everything is ready for your stay."

"Thank you, Frances. Frances, this is Rose Turner and her son, Louis. Frances runs the house. If you need anything, she is the one to go to," Tommy instructed and guided Rose up the stairs.

Charlie pulled Louis along as well. "Come on, Louis! I want to show you my room."

The older boy reluctantly followed the younger boy up the stairs. Rose was preoccupied with the paintings on the wall. One picture, in particular, caught her eye. It was of Tommy, baby Charlie, and a woman who must have been Grace.

"Is that Grace?" Rose asked Tommy, pointing to the painting on the wall.

"Yes, that is Charlie's mother. We got that done when he was a year and a half old. Grace picked the theme. She wanted a 1920s vibe, her favorite era for some reason. Come on; I'll show you where you'll be staying."

Looking one last time at the painting, Rose felt a tiny pang in her chest. Grace was a beautiful woman. She could see why Tommy would fall for someone like Grace and why a part of him was still hung up on his late wife. But most of all, Rose felt sorry for Charlie for having to grow up without a mother.

As Rose continued to look around the house, Tommy pulled her into the master bedroom. It was a spacious room with a king-size bed in the middle. Usually, the master bedroom was off-limits to guests. Not even Tommy would spend the night in the room, opting for one of the guest rooms instead. After Grace died, Tommy locked the master bedroom from any intruders. He didn't want anyone rummaging through Grace's belongings or tarnishing where she used to sleep.

Tommy stood back as he watched Rose look around the room. She ran a hand on the silk bedding and made her way to the window. The window had a view of the front yard and its beautiful landscaping designs. Rose could see why people paid to visit the gardens of Arrow House.

"It's nice and quiet here," Rose professed and turned to Tommy. "It's nice to get away from the real world for a while. Thank you for everything."

Walking closer to Rose, Tommy ran his hands along her shoulders and kissed her on the mouth. "You're safe here, with me. And you'll be safe in your home when you return. Trust me."

"I do trust you, Tommy. I know you are being genuine and caring for not only my well-being but Louis's as well. That means a lot to me," Rose professed to Tommy and kissed him back. She nuzzled closer to his neck and breathed in deep. "We should go check on the kids. Make sure they are settling in okay."

Tommy merely nodded and followed Rose out of the bedroom. He guided her to where Charlie was most likely to be. After rounding a corner, Tommy stopped at the door to Charlie's room to knock.

"Charlie, how's it going?" asked Tommy.

"Hey, daddy!" the little boy beamed at his father. "Louis and I are playing with Legos. Look what I made." Charlie held up what looked to be some sort of plane or jet. "It's Luke Skywalker's X-Wing Fighter," added Charlie.

"Star Wars," Louis piped in when he saw his mum's confused face.

"Yeah, I've never been into Star Wars. I'm more of a Star Trek fan," Rose clarified and giggled when Louis rolled his eyes.

"Captain Kirk or Piccard?" Tommy asked Rose.

"Captain Janeway. She's the best," Rose responded. "But, if I had to choose between Kirk or Piccard, then I got to go with Piccard. I love Patrick Stewart."

"Captain Jonathan Archer was another good one. You know the Captain from Enterprise," added Tommy.

"Oh, Scott Bakula. Yeah, I like him as well. Quantum Leap was such a good show."

Charlie looked over at the older boy, "What are they talking about, Louis?"

"Nerd stuff," replied Louis. He was unamused by the "nerd-fest" going on between his mum and Tommy.

When everyone got settled in Arrow House, Rose stopped by the guest room Louis occupied.

"Knock, knock," smiled Rose as she entered the bedroom. "How are you holding up? You doing okay."

Louis shrugged, "About as good as one can when taken away from their home."

Sighing, Rose sat down on the bed. "It is only for a few days. It was a nice gesture of Tommy to take us on a mini getaway. That's all this is, Louis, time away before you have to go back to school. Just enjoy it. Relax and have some fun."

"Fine."

"Fine," Rose echoed and got up from the bed. "I'll leave you alone for now. But please don't stay cooped in this room the entire time. Charlie really likes you. So, please spend some time with him at least. I'm not going to force you to hang out with Tommy."

Rose left Louis alone and walked down the stairs to find Tommy. She still couldn't get over the size of the house. Seeing the painting of Tommy, Charlie, and Grace once again, Rose stopped to look at it more closely. While Charlie had Grace's blonde hair, there was no denying he got Tommy's blue eyes. She loved how Charlie was looking up at his father with adoration. Rose was staring too intently at the painting that she didn't the pitter-patter of little feet approaching.

"Rosie," Charlie giggled and stopped when he saw the painting. "Isn't Mama pretty?"

"Yes, very pretty," Rose replied honestly. "Hey, how about we go pick out some pictures for your school project?"

Charlie grabbed Rose's hand and led her down the stairs towards the kitchen. "Franny, where are the pictures of Mama that Daddy keeps hidden?" Charlie asked the housekeeper.

Francis was a bit taken back by the young boy's question. "Oh, uh, why are you asking?"

"It's for a school project," Rose stepped in to answer. "Charlie just needs a few pictures of his mum."

"I think most of Mrs. Shelby's belongings are still in the basement. Let me show you the way," Francis told them as she led Rose and Charlie from the kitchen down to the basement.

Much to Rose's surprise, the basement was no ordinary basement. Instead, it was carpeted and furnished with decent lighting to it. It looked more like a living room with boxes organized in certain places. Many of the boxes had the name "Grace" nicely written on them. Francis picked up one of the smaller boxes and set it down in front of Charlie.

"This box would have pictures of your mum. I believe it will have some of her jewelry, hair clips, and hairbrush as well," said Francis. "You're father asked me to save everything for you."

Rose helped Charlie open the box and watched as the little boy looked inside. He quietly pulled out different items that belonged to his mother. Charlie handed them to Rose, who would set them aside. When Charlie pulled out a manila envelope, he looked inside and saw an array of images of his mum. He took the envelope and sat down on the couch. It was quiet as Charlie looked through the pictures. Neither Rose nor Francis wanted to disturb the young child.

"I miss her," Charlie softly spoke as he handed the pictures he wanted to Rose. "I don't really remember her, but I know I miss her."

"From the way your mum is looking at you in this picture," Rose began, "You were the love of her life."

"No way!" laughed Charlie with an eye roll.

"Yes, way!" retorted Rose. "Trust me on this, okay. It's a mom thing. You should consider yourself lucky. You got your guardian angel looking after you."

"Sometimes, I hear Daddy crying in his room at night. It doesn't happen a lot. Mostly when it's Mama's birthday or their anniversary, don't tell him I told you that, please," Charlie requested.

"I won't," promised Rose looking around the room to see that Francis was long gone, "Hey, how about we take these pictures upstairs, get something to eat, and work on the project? Sound like a plan?"

"Can we come back down here later?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Sure," smiled Rose and held her hand out for Charlie to take.

The two walked back up the basement stairs and towards the kitchen. Francis had a pot of soup on the stove and had already made sandwiches in the refrigerator. Rose retrieved the scrapbooking supplies she bought at Marks & Spencer and laid them out on the table. Charlie and Rose would switch between eating, talking, laughing, and scrapbooking. Francis stood back and watched with a smile on her face. It was a sweet sight to see. One that she hoped to see more of in the future.

Meanwhile, Louis stayed up in the guest room, playing a game on his phone. It wasn't until Louis heard a knock at the door that he looked up from the phone. Thinking it was his mother, Louis told the person on the other side to come in. Much to his surprise, it was Tommy.

"How are you holding up?" the older man asked the teenager.

"I'm fine," Louis answered. "Is there something you need?"

Tommy shifted on his feet and looked down at the floor. "Do you mind if the two of us go for a walk around the property? I have a feeling you have questions you want to ask me, so let's get it all out in the open."

"I only have questions because I'm protective of my mum."

"Understandable. Come on, let's go," said Tommy.

Grabbing a jacket, Louis followed Tommy out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. They walked alongside the south front lawn and towards one of the gardens.

"How long have you had this place?" questioned Louis.

"A couple of years. It would have been my permanent residence, but I opened it up to the public after my wife died. I intend for Charlie to inherit it when he gets older," Tommy shared. "It has been a long while since Charlie and I have been back here."

"Who is May Carleton?" Louis probed. He stopped walking to stand in front of Tommy.

"May Carleton, eh," Tommy smirked, "She is a horse trainer from Bakewell. I've worked with her for years. She has helped train many of my prized horses. Why do you ask?"

"Charlie brought her up. For some reason, he thought you two were dating."

"We weren't exclusive. May wanted to be, but I wasn't ready," replied Tommy. "She is an amazing woman and a great friend. That is all we will ever be."

"But May is wealth. She is a part of high society. Why wouldn't someone like you want to be with a woman like that? Why my mum? Why a woman from Blackpool who had a kid when she was a teenager?"

"Why not your mum?" Tommy retorted. "She is an amazing woman. She's kind, funny, beautiful, and doesn't take any crap from anyone. Your mum has the qualities I look for in a woman. And Rose comes from humble beginnings. I grew up in Birmingham. My parents had no money, and when my dad left, we had to fend for ourselves. I've worked hard to get to where I'm at today. I wanted better for my family. That was my ultimate goal. I'm not someone who merely looks out for myself. I have Charlie, my brothers, and my sister to look out for as well. There may have been choices I regret to achieve these dreams, but I can't take them back. I wouldn't take them back, to be completely honest."

Louis took in what Tommy shared with him. He appreciated the honesty. But there was still something about Tommy he couldn't fully trust. Louis decided not to bring up Tatiana Petrovna to Tommy. He still needed to get more information about the woman.

Before Louis could respond, he felt his phone vibrate. "Hold up; I got a text message. It's from mum. She said Francis made lunch. Should I text her back that we are coming?"

"Yeah, tell her we will be there soon."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

[burnedbyshoto]

aphrodite

“Aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. You might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.”

— Or, in which Pro Hero Shouto falls in love with a dominatrix cam girl, only to find out that she’s quite a weirdo in real life. — 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, stalking fan, cursing, unexperienced shouto, camgirl!reader, dom!reader, marking, blowjobs, praise kink

word count: 8,834

a/n: honestly, I did love this fic but mind is BUZZING at the thought of finally getting to write my todoroki family gangbang because I have that shit fucking outlined and I never outline anYTHING!!! but this was fun!!! i did a lot of extensive research into camming to only realize that if I wrote it realistically I wouldn’t be able to write this the way I intended... so camgirl is sorta really inaccurate and im sorry ;-;

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Being a Pro Hero was one of the most rewarding things Todoroki Shouto had ever done. With his day consumed with being in an element where he saved and protected people, there was nothing he could ever hope to improve. Well, as long as you only considered things in a job aspect.

As a Pro Hero, his job was his life.

Day in and day out, he was working. 

From the first chime of his alarm at six in the morning until he was crashing on his bed at eleven at night, he wasn’t just anyone, he was Shouto, the Pro Hero.

But Heroes were overworked, with the recent downfall of the League of Villains and the aftershocks that came from defeating a group that changed the world, there was a lot to do. He was twenty years old, two years free from Yuuei, and was a Pro Hero, not a sidekick.

After graduating from school, most individuals had assumed that he was going to work with his father as a sidekick for a few number of years, but that wasn’t right. Bakugou and Midoriya had created an agency together, so with them, the creators, Shouto made up one of the many founding members of this new agency. An agency that was constructed of only graduates of Yuuei,  it was strong, promising, and already one that had him and his friends well within the publics’ favorite heroes.

As goes any new Hero Agency, they had to prove themselves, after all, their alma mater was not enough to carry them through everything. Experience was valued higher than name-value after all. So Shouto, along with the thirty members of the agency, worked hard every day to swallow the fear of the reemerging Japan, fulfilling every and all tedious and significant need.

But for all his hard work, Shouto had been neglecting his own needs.

Two years of hard work for a man without a sexual relationship translated to two years without any sort of lover — romantic and sexual.

At first, it was easy to ignore. He made do with sloppy jerk offs in the shower, the warm water soaking into his skin while he came in loads against his fingers, but eventually, it grew tiresome, lonesome, and tedious. 

That is until something happened one day.

A single link had been sent his way by Kaminari, the blond man unknowingly sending this to Shouto and not the intended Sero. Shouto had just gotten home, his tired eyes looking at the highlighted hyperlink on his phone. Sighing, he had thrown it up on his laptop, wanting to figure out just what he was sending him of all people, he hoped maybe it was an article on his major rescue today. Kaminari was much better at tracking those articles than he was.

But what he got was not an article on his heroic deed today. No, there was no cold day in hell that this was a news article.

His eyes widened, the texts furiously coming in on his phone, apologizing for the mistake, but Shouto wasn’t paying attention. No, he was transfixed on the video before him and fire, unlike any heat he had ever known burned through his veins. Simmering heat rolling from his skin while he watched on, and just like that, Shouto found a way to feel anew.

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“Thanks for all your hard work!” Midoriya yelled after Shouto, who was three strides out the door once they traded places. 

It was Tuesday night, one of three nights that Shouto ever really looked forward to. For the past year, he had always made sure that he was never scheduled on these nights, and well, no one had objected, so he was still taking them. The travel back home was a five-minute commute via train, but always, as Shouto sat there, he felt as if the train was barely inching along.

But as soon as the train docked, there was no time to waste. Shouto was out of the crowded train and practically racing to his house. 

The door was slammed and locked behind him, and while practically stripping in his hallway — he didn’t need to care about a trail of clothes as he lived alone — he made it into his bedroom.

7:59, his clock read, and he cursed, moving even faster to set himself up.

Shouto couldn’t help but feel the burning embers of shame igniting in his chest, his heart rate soaring to the sky, when he clicked the join button. This was utterly shameful… twenty-one years old and he was in love… he was infatuated with someone he couldn’t have.

The screen darkened for the room he was looking into was dark, nothing but fuzzy pixels where you sat on the bed, legs crossed, and a sly grin on your face.

“Hi, love,” you coo. Shouto couldn’t make you out exactly right now, but on god, he already knows your lips were painted a deep red that always captivated him, your eyes insanely large with the thick and long strand of eyelashes you wore.

He wants to say good, he wants nothing more than to respond to your greeting, but he’s speechless. Besides, he knows you wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway.

“Now, now, don’t be shy,” you pout, standing up and nearing the camera, your strides were slow, smooth, terribly seductive and Shouto was taking you all in.

However, Shouto’s heart stops when your figure becomes more distinct. Red leather lingerie and toys strapped to the iconic utility belt you don. Even in the alluring lighting of your room, Shouto can see that your eyes are dark with amusement, glee, and lust. He groans lightly, the fabric of his boxer briefs tightening when you lean in close.

“I want to hear you cry my name…”

Shouto splutters at the whisper, feeling submerged into your show despite his brain telling him you didn’t know him. Regardless, his finger trails the trackpad and clicks the blue ‘donation’ button, the amount put at the full maximum the site would allow.

“Aw, thank you for the donation icy-hot,” you purr, your eyes fluttering on the camera, almost as if you were looking right at him. And Shouto delights at the sound of his username dripping like honey from your tongue. “I knew your slutty needy cock wouldn’t disappoint me. I wonder if you’re already touching yourself at the thought of me…” he watches your pretty red lips stretch from a pout into a Cheshire grin, and a pleasurable wave encases his body, his cock twitching against his restraint. “I hope you’re not, after all, I haven’t given you permission yet, have I?”

Shouto exhales shakily, the sultry confidence in your face, tone, and stature overwhelming him.

He watches your eyes fall to where he knows the chat is located on your screen, and the bell-like giggle swims in his mind while you amuse the many different viewers on this chat.

Aphrodite, that’s what you went by. 

The goddess of love, beauty, procreation, and pleasure.

With the way your eyes pierced the camera, legs spread open to reveal your cunt for your viewers, Shouto hissed in need for him to grab his cock, he knew better by now.

“Don’t you wish you were here so I could ride your small cocks instead of my fingers,” you sigh, and Shouto wets his lips, fingers that ached to give attention to his pulsing cock digging into his thighs. “If you want me to let you touch yourself,” you sigh, tossing your head back, your eyes glinted with power and coercion in this position. “Throw in a little donation for your goddess, whores~!”

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It pained Shouto to admit it, but he had a sincere and deep attraction for the girl behind Aphrodite. He didn’t need to check his bank account to know that outside of his daily things, the thing that he was freely spending money on was your shows. The more people donate, the more you would do, the more dominating, demeaning, and almost sadistic you would get. Most nights, like last night, Shouto would collapse on his bed. His cock a flush red from the aggressive fisting he had done, a desperate attempt to make himself pretend it was your tight and sopping cunt around his cock and not his heated hands. The room was always foggy, steam pouring from his skin because his control still went up to smoke whenever he watched you on the screen.

There was nothing more to say except that he would do everything in his power to make sure you were gaining enough money from these shows, and that his screen name would drip past your lips every show. Even if you would never do private shows, he would make sure you knew who he was.

But this wasn’t the time to think about you.

“Todoroki!” Bakugou yelled from a distance, and Shouto looked up to see Bakugou staring at him, his face set in annoyance. “Ponytail has a job for you.”

Shouto had just walked in through the door to the agency, but his lips pulled into a slight smile. His head nodding, “Okay.”

In the agency Momo, Iida, and Midoriya were the ones who were best suited at handing out missions and assignments. With Iida on temporary leave as he was on vacation with his family and Midoriya, who was on a week assignment with Bakugou, there was only Momo to hand intensive things out right now. 

Saying his good mornings to the people he passed, he eventually made it into the back room with the door closing behind him. He made eye contact immediately with Momo, who seemed to be jabbering with the client, but he knew her well enough to see that under the cheerful personality, there was something worried in her gaze.

“You wanted to see me?” Shouto asked the second he stepped in.

“Ah, yes, Todoroki-san!” Momo nodded her head, the smile on her face remaining keen on her face while she gestured to the person before her. “This is y/l/n y/n!”

Nodding, he looked down at the client and stiffened only slightly when you turned around.

Y/l/n… y/n… you were Aphrodite.

Shouto’s mouth went dry but also began salivating at an extremely high rate the second your lips pulled into a greeting smile. Was this real?

Would you be dominating in public? Your dominatrix bleeding into your personality outside of the screen? Would you rise to his eye level when you finally stood? He always imagined you would. Were you wearing something flirty, cute, or alluring underneath that jacket you had on your body? Your make up was done in the same matter as the shows, but the red lipstick he loved was substituted with a natural lip color, brightening the shimmer in your eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you greeted, and Shouto nodded dumbly, words failing him entirely at this moment.

Was that what he expected you to say as a greeting? Well, he guessed you saying something along the lines of ‘welcome you dirty fucking slut’ was a bit out of the picture considering they were in public and you didn’t know him. But still, a part of him craved to have heard that utter from your lips, because there would have been no stopping the way that he would have sank to his knees for you.

“Y/l/n-san is here with us because she’s been a victim of a past B&E’s,” Momo’s voice pierces through Shouto’s thoughts, and he breaks his stare on your — sweetly? — smiling face to look at his friend. “We also have reason to believe that such offenses are because she also has a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Shouto repeated Momo’s words.

“That is correct, and said stalker seems to be in possession of a strong quirk,” Momo nodded her head, her face still kind for you, but her eyes calculating and sharp. “I’m assigning you on her case for a few reasons, firstly because you are capable of handling the perpetrator, and two, you live a block from her apartment, so defending her will be accessible to you.”

Shouto’s stomach jumped at those words, all this time you had been a mere block away from him?! 

“Isn’t that a bit too much?” you laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. Shouto blinks, that was a move most people made when they weren’t confident… you were always confident. “I mean, yeah, I don’t want to be like… hurt by this man, but there’s no way he’d do anything bad, right?”

“Are you serious?” Shouto asked, his voice leaking with his evident discontent to your answer.

Momo, however, redirected your attention back to her by grabbing your hands in hers, “There’s a possibility that there’s nothing bad that he’ll do, but that’s not something we wish to risk.”

“I have pepper spray, a stun gun, and a strong uppercut; I think I can handle this,” you say, pulling your keys up, showcasing the arrange of weapons you carried casually around you. 

“The pepper spray looks like you haven’t used it in ages,” Shouto immediately pointed out. “You need to use it about once a month to ensure it works.”

“Wait, really?!”

Momo giggled, watching in the way that Shouto looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, and how you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I can understand that you believe that you’re confident in your ability to take care of yourself! We aren’t trying to imply that you couldn’t, but your cousin brought you here or a reason! It’s easier to let us do our job, to make sure that you don’t ever have to put into a trying situation.”

Your bottom lip juts out into a small pout, but ultimately you sighed, nodding. “Okay… how long would this take, do you think? It’s just that I can’t have Shouto by my side at every instance of the day.”

Momo’s eyebrows quirked into a questioning stare, and Shouto could feel his body temperature rising at those words.

“Oh? How come?”

You still, as if you hadn’t expected Momo to further question why you didn’t want to be watched at all hours of the day. Loudly you splutter, unable to come up with an excuse through your panicked and while Shouto watched and listened with crumbling hope that your dominatrix personality was something that you held in every aspect in life. Your cries that you were an up and coming YouTuber — which explained the stalker — and needed to film your muckbang videos in peace made Shouto realize that you were not some sexy, confident woman at every instance of the day. No, you were awkward, weird, and dorky, but it still did nothing to calm his hammering heart when you stood up at the end of the meeting, clad in something that had to be pulled from the Lisa Frank collection and you hurried out.

“If I analyzed all of her police reports correctly, the stalker should be back by next week, falling on either Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday night,” Momo informed Shouto, passing the case folder his way. “Take care of y/l/n-san, and be safe.”

Shouto nodded; that was something he didn’t need to be told twice, “Of course.”

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You were a camgirl.

For most of your life, you had been someone who was overlooked by most. Being quirkless in a world where having a quirk, even the most useless quirks, was needed to gain success in your peer’s eyes truly sucked. It hadn’t stopped you from being successful, of course, you had worked hard in every aspect of your life, but it kept you from attaining your dream job because having a quirk was essential for it — even though you didn’t need one.

So with a minimum wage job to cover the costs of living and your long journey to prove your worth to get your dream job, you were quick to realize that you needed more money.

And one day, after a long day at failing to find a second job, you were in bed, reading over fanfics to distract yourself from a failed day when a particular story caught your eye. 

A story about a camgirl, and then it hit you.

You could be a camgirl!

It took a month of planning, nights spent on creating a persona, a person for you to become when the camera went on. 

You would turn into Aphrodite.

With such a stage name, you knew that you had to become the goddess of love herself. Your personality was quirky and dorky in real life when you only had to be you, but Aphrodite was all leather, lacy, skimpy hotness. She was daunting, commanding, dominating. It was almost as if the second you turned on your Livestream, the goddess herself possessed your body, turning you into someone that you could only dream to be.

You performed three times a week, precisely at nine and end sometimes even at two in the morning. Within a matter of ten streams, you had exploded in viewers and donors. You had been making around five hundred thousand yen a month, that is until your most special viewer icy-hot had made his first appearance. 

Icy-hot was someone who seemed to have a deep interest in you, and even deeper pockets because he alone doubled the price of your average income from camming. You were obsessed with him.

There was also another reason why you were obsessed, and it might have a little bit to do with the tall man walking behind you, just far away to make you comfortable, but close enough to keep you from harm’s way. Oh yes, in a world of celebrity crushes, you were in love with Pro Hero Shouto. 

It was stupid really, but as a fifteen-year-old girl watching Yuuei students who were your age beating the shit out of each other left an imprint of his then fifteen-year-old abs in your brain and you were hooked. Your crush was always shallow, of course it was, you didn’t know him, but he still provided you with a sense of comfort. The fact that he had lived so close to you for so long sent embarrassing flames to your face, how would he ever react to knowing that you needed time away from him so that you could control people into fucking themselves online? Or about how your stalker was a possessive man who watched your streams?

You had been fine with just informing the police, but apparently, the man had been apprehended before and had his quirk registered. He was dangerous, and with you being quirkless and the cops being unable to use their own quirks, your cousin dragged you to the local hero agency, proclaimed you needed help, and left.

Little did you remember that this was the hero agency that a lot of recent Yuuei alumni were at, and of course, the one that Shouto worked at. Heroes latched at your side, worried for you while taking you to the back to talk to the Everything Hero: Creati. With the police files on her computer, the two of you discussed everything that was happening with ease and sharp detail, and then Ground Zero barged through the door, yelling about something Deku was doing.

Creati talked with him, both of them coming to some understanding and a simple line from her mouth, effectively ending your entire life.

“Will you call in Todoroki-san when he gets here?”

It wasn’t that you were dressed ugly or wrong, but you were definitely dressed up in bright colors because you were trying a Lisa Frank aesthetic before your cousin dragged you off. Tugging at the ends of your hair, you looked back at Shouto, who was silent, his eyes looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his buttery voice soothes down your spine, and you threw a large thump up in his direction with a nod.

“Never been better!” you lie. This was bad this was so very bad, you wanted to push him into an alleyway and run away, why must the world curse you into looking like you were related to booboo the fool on the day you finally crossed paths with Shouto. Not to mention should he find out about your career? Would he think you deserved everything coming your way?

“It’s okay to be not okay,” he spoke up, his head tilting to the side, trying to figure out where your thoughts are. “You know that, right? You’re going through a lot right now.”

You blow a raspberry, your ears burning when you look back in front of you, your head shaking. “I’m perfectly fine, I wasn’t even in immediate danger! Besides, I have you here now, don’t I?”

They were familiar words heroes heard every day, maybe not those words exactly but similar enough that they weren’t unusual. But still, to Shouto, those words curled warmly in his chest, vibrating deep within his sternum while he nodded.

“You do.”

“See!”

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To say the least, Shouto was genuinely shocked to figure out who you were as a person. 

The biggest thing he could put together about you, the most essential detail he saw was the fact that you were stupidly a dork. You had just about one hundred colorful mugs with weirdly dumb inspirational quotes on them. Whenever he showed up at your apartment in the morning — the nights you insisted he couldn’t sleep on your couch because of your recordings, which worked out because he would just go home and watch your stream with only the slightest guilty conscious.

You had a colorful arrange of sweaters and shirts, none of which were anything that he would have assumed initially you would wear, to begin with. Leggings and sweaters, joggers and tank tops, that seemed to be your style in the warming days of spring, and he was all for it.

With nothing more to do with this assignment, then stay close to you because the police where in charge of trying to find the man, the two of you grew close. Shouto often amused himself by asking you about the videos you were making for ‘YouTube,’ each time you came out with a poorly failed excuse of a lie for him, and every time you believed that he believed you.

It was a month into the assignment, and nothing had happened so far, nothing but late-night conversations and late-night cam sessions. Still, Shouto was a devoted watcher, and with each passing day, his ears no longer blushed scarlet at the sight of you the following mornings. 

The two of you were proper fans, and the crushes you had for each other still held true, only now reenforced with the appropriate images of each other.

“You have to go now!” you complain, trying to shove the much larger man out of your apartment’s front door. It was Thursday evening, and with only an hour until you were to stream — an accident on both of your parts because you had been distracted with watching an anime with him — you needed to get ready quickly. “Shouto, oh my god, I swear if you don’t leave, I’m going to pepper spray you!”

Shouto was pretending to be lost in thought, his body stable and unshifting while you attempted your hardest to get him to move. “I don’t remember you ever cleaning your pepper spray… it’ll end up hurting you more than me in the end anyway.”

“You don’t know that!” you grunt, your hands pressing against his spine, your feet slipping against the wood while you push with all your strength. “Even if it hits me, it’ll hit you too!”

“I’ve been pepper-sprayed before, apart of hero training, I can handle it, y/n,” Shouto points, and he finally takes a step forward, your body stumbling into his side where he graciously steadied you. There’s a silence between the two of you when he realizes just how he caught you, and you feel the temperature fluctuate around you when he pushes you to your feet, throwing on his shoes and leaving with a stiff wave.

“See you t-tomorrow!” he rushes out, leaving you with a burning face in your doorway. 

But as you closed the door, rushing yourself to get ready for tonight, you didn’t get to see the way that Shouto stopped at the staircase, his eyebrows scrunching when an uneasy feeling filled his gut. Could it be that the perp was finally going to make their move tonight?

In thirty minutes you had managed to get your makeup done, the sharp black eyeliner paired with large full eyelashes, your skin perfect from foundation and contour, and of course, the painted red lip. With only ten minutes to spare, you threw your camera set together, connecting it at eight minutes to spare. You sweat in nerves while you hastily threw on your lingerie. Black lacy panties that sculpted your ass, and a bra that left your breasts looking delectable. Then the leather garter belt hung around your waist, attaching to your thigh high stockings with a cute red bow. 

With the countdown on the screen, you flopped on the bed, cameras rolling as soon as your clock read 9:00.

“Hi, love,” you began as you usually do, confidence flooding your person while you sat up from your mattress, your hands smoothly gliding against the soft fabric of the comforter. 

Your show went as it normally did, harmless flirting with your viewers who craved more, thanking donator after donator, your smile growing into a smirk with each passing minute. You noticed that icy-hot was on, his avatar always pinned to your screen when he joined, but he was silent. Not a single donation.

Normally this would scare you, drilling ice-cold anxiety through your veins, but you weren’t you right now; you were Aphrodite. 

“Icy-hot,” you drawled, your voice husky and low, a subtle show to your dominance while you leaned forward, your cleavage only accentuating between your pressing arms. “What are you doing?”

But before you could continue on, before you could utter more phrases to get some sort of response from your favorite viewer, there was a rustle in your apartment. You froze immediately, was Shouto in your place? No, that couldn’t make sense.

Then in an almost slow-motion horror, you watched your bedroom door slam open, and a man you didn’t recognize appeared before you. His transfixed on you as if you were a true goddess, his muscles taut, lips perked into a lusting smirk.

“I finally found you, Aphrodite,” he whispered like a prayer, his feet taking several fast strides in your direction, and as the chat exploded in their confusion, your jaw dropped in an ear-splitting scream.

>> ‘Is this for real?’

>> ‘Is aphrodite finally fucking a man for us? I’m jealous it’s not me!’

>> ‘Holy shit, I think this is real?!’

The facade of Aphrodite was gone on you, no longer possessing you, but instead the meek and weird you. There was no stopping his conquering pace when his hand outstretched for you until he was frozen in place.

“Shouto?!” you squeak, looking to see your hero standing at the door, his cheeks flushed from most likely rushing over, his eyes deadly and severe. His eyes glanced you over, and embarrassment shrouded you when he eyed over your lingerie, but he said nothing of your state of appearance thankfully.

“Go into your bathroom, and don’t come out until I tell you it’s over,” Shouto commanded, and breathlessly you nodded, stumbling over into the bathroom as the perpetrator broke free from the ice. One lustful eye turning sinister and dark, and with an animalistic bellow, he charged Shouto when you closed the door.

You weren’t sure how long you lasted in the bathroom; the only thing you knew is that for ten seconds, it was loud with the clear sounds of battle before quieting. There had been no crash, nothing to tell you that the action had been taken elsewhere, only that you had heard the familiar sound of Shoutos singing ice and then silence. You pulled on your fluffy white bathrobe that hung by the door on your bathroom, your pacing unstoppable in your inability to calm down.

Was Shouto alright? They didn’t both die out there, right? No, Shouto was more durable than that, you reasoned, your hands aching with your nerves.

The pulsing beat of your heart sat heavy in your throat, your fingers trembling with shot nerves and fearful thoughts until a soft knock on your door alerted you that someone was there.

“H-Hello?” you stammer, unable to keep yourself from speaking.

“It’s me,” you hear Shouto’s voice tiredly stated, and without so much as wondering if it really was him, you threw open the door.

Shouto stood there, a bruise on his jaw, a visible injury he had sustained from this fight. 

There was no stopping you throwing yourself into his arms, your own arms throwing around his neck in your dopamine surge. He had saved you, he had finished this.

“Sorry that took so long,” Shouto murmured into your ear, his head burying into the crook of your neck, sending intensive static down your spine. “Bastard took us seven blocks away; apparently, he has a pretty shitty teleportation quirk.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay,” you sigh, not wanting to let go of him anytime soon. “Was it just the bruise?”

“Mhm,” Shouto informs you, his fingers running against the thick fluffiness of the robe. “Quirk side effect is that it makes you stupidly dizzy after using it, and that includes everyone he takes with him. So I nearly was throwing up when he landed one on me. The police will take you in for questioning tomorrow morning if that’s alright? I figured it was too late, and you went through too much to be questioned tonight.”

“That’s perfect,” you agree, not at all caring when the interview would be, just as long as he was with you. 

Shouto eventually pulled away, his hands remaining on your waist while his eyes looked at you warmly, “Okay, well let’s get you on your bed, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded dumbly, following after Shouto when he guided you back into the room that was liberated from his ice but had obviously been fought in on account of your fallen books. You sighed when you sat up on your bed watching Shouto stand in front of you, observing you in your fluffy white robe.

“Shouto?” you asked while Shouto observed your face in the better lighting of your room, his finger soothing tear streaks you had long ago cried while he made sure you were okay.

“Mm?”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“I thought something was going to happen tonight. I had this feeling when I was leaving and decided to stay until it happened.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I had screamed until after he was in my room,” you accuse, your eyes narrowing. 

Honestly, you had no idea how he knew… unless…

“I’m icy-hot,” Shouto states simply, but you couldn’t ignore the way that your body literally rejected this claim, how it sizzled to life because he knew what you did on these nights, and how you sparked at the thought of how he’d been supporting you for a year.

“You’re — ?”

“Yeah,” Shouto smiled, pulling away from you with a soft sigh, his arms folding across his chest. “A friend of mine accidentally sent me a link to your cam sessions when you first started, and I was hooked.”

“You’re telling me all this time, you knew?!”

Shouto nodded, unsure as to what you weren’t quite understanding.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” your voice raised dangerously, your spine shot straight while your world both crashed and built around you.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to tell my client that I watched her strip and fuck herself on my leisure time,” Shouto sighs, his eyebrow-raising in amusement.

“You’re a dick!” you exclaim, but your words were one of wonder, your eyes brightening in this new knowledge. “I can’t believe you, honestly!”

“Well then, I guess I can tell you a string of truths, and you can do nothing about it,” he challenges, his face nearing yours, dangerously close. His warm and mint breath fanning across your face. “I have feelings for you — deep and honest feelings for you, I think this piece you’re wearing under the rob is by far one of the best pieces you’ve ever worn, and I’m hard right now.”

“You know that Aphrodite is a facade,” you disclosed, your eyelids feeling like weights while you stared up at him, unmoving, unchallenging.

“I don’t think it is,” Shouto challenged his hands, tugging at the fabric that held your robe closed. “Aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. You might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.”

Your tongue is dry, but still, you wet your lips, confidence, and fear meeting in the middle of your chest in an all-out war to see which would win. It was to no one’s surprise that you wanted Shouto, but for it to be reciprocated was a bit beyond you, and finally, you inhaled a bit sharply through your nose, “If you want me to fuck you, you better ask properly. Like a good boy.”

His eyes glint in an unreserved way that sends fire through your spine and a heat flashing in your core. It had been a while since you’ve fucked anyone, and here was Shouto implying that you fuck him. He also seemed to want to be dommed, and if there was something you weren’t expecting from him, was that.

Shouto licks his lips, his hands moving from your waist and pressing onto the mattress so that he’s forcing you to lean backward, trapped in his hold. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he breathes, and in a similar exhilarating thrill of Aphrodite possessing you before a show, that electrifying courage courses through your veins and grabbing onto the thick fabric of his costume and bring him into a simmering kiss.

Your fingers wound in his hair, the intensive heat and passion exchanging between your lips were insane. It was mind-boggling as it was breathtaking. Your head tilted, and you pressed in more, feeling the weight of the bed dipping as Shouto climbed onto the bed with you. Shouto was bigger than you, in just about every way of the word, but still, with your stocking covered leg, you wound it around his waist and spun in your place.

Straddling his torso, you pressed incessant kisses to his mouth, his desperate return sending confidence to your head, a warm pulse in your body. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a bottom,” you murmur against Shouto’s throat, your hands pressing flat against his chest, moving to unravel the restraints holding it together. You get the top of his jumpsuit undone, watching has his pale and toned chest slowly peeking through the growing opening. Your fingers move against the plains of his abs, nails moving against his hardened nipples while you sigh against his throat. “Such a good boy.”

Shouto heaves, his breathing uneven, unsteady, and unsure. For someone so confident thirty seconds earlier, he seemed to be crashing from that stream of confidence quickly, almost dangerously. Skirting around this knowledge, you removed your robe, discarding it onto the dirty floor with a content smirk. 

“I, um,” Shouto swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering at the sight of the lacy black undergarments and, for the first time, genuinely getting to appreciate them in real life. His fingers grab onto your waist, his hot as fire hands tracing your smooth skin, tracing against the hem of your panties until he got to the cleavage of your ass, stopping where your body met his. “I’ve never done this.”

“That’s alright,” you say, hands pushing the blue fabric of his costume off his shoulder, making quick work of it, and finally, your get to press your hands against his broad and naked shoulders. Your lips move unhurriedly against his neck, moving down until you reach his collarbone, taking a long swipe of your tongue against the protruding bone.

“Fuuck.”

The words that had meant to come from Shouto’s lips drifted towards the ceiling, no longer viable with the way that he folded against your touch. With your lips back against his chin, your right hand stretched behind you and pressed firmly against Shouto’s hard buldge palming against the clothed erection. His eyes close immediately, the touch of another on his growing cock was foreign to him, but it was igniting something within him while you continued your ministrations. A strangled moan vibrating at the back of his throat, his hips rising to buck and grind against your cupping hand, only hindered by your teasing retreats and bell-like giggles.

“So desperate already, baby?” you whisper against his ear, your mouth coming back to his, meeting his trembling lips into a passionate kiss. When you pull away, he makes a noise similar to an animal in heat but is quickly silenced by your teeth biting gently against his lower lip. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

Shouto helps you make little work of removing his costume, the dark navy blue material joining your robe on the floor, and you straddle him one again. Only this time, it’s your cunt rolling against his clothed cock. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask, your lips pressing painted marks against his chest. The red of your lips shining like rubies against his pale skin, but it does nothing but stirs you on. It wasn’t a mark like a bite, but it was an acknowledgment that as of now, for this very moment, he was yours. The red lip print proof of this bond. “Do you want my mouth around your pretty cock?”

Shouto shudders at your words, his hips involuntarily bucking at your ask, and he nods his head. His cheeks dusted red, and his heart hammering in his throat, “Y-Yes, please suck me off.”

“Aww,” you coo, your fingers hooking around the waistband of his underwear, your cunt grinding against him. “You said, please!”

The underwear joins the rest of Shouto’s outfit on the floor, and you stare at Shouto’s cock in its full glory. The long thick length bouncing against his stomach, precum dripping slowly from its tip. The knowledge that he was already leaking from your gentlest attempts of domination sent power through you once again, and you smirked leaning down so that you were level with his cock.

“Such a pretty cock,” you sigh, wrapping your hand against his length, your mouth watering at the fact that you couldn’t encompass it in your hand. “So beautiful… now, I want you to stare at me the entire time I’m doing this icy-hot. I’m putting on a private show for you, and I expect my favorite viewer to watch the entire time.”

There was no need to wait because Shouto was ready for your mouth, and with one final roll of his pink head with your fingers, you began.

You brought your mouth to Shouto’s cock and licked a clean line from balls to crown, the back of your tongue swirling around the head.

Shouto’s moan was nothing short of pornographic, and near animalistic in the way that it sent shivers down your back. Most definitely caught in the feel of things, Shouto arched his ass from the bed to thrust right into your waiting mouth. With the confidence of who you tried to be as Aphrodite, you decided to be the best at what you were doing for Shouto, hopeful this would be something he would ever forget. Adjusting to his lifted hips, you gripped and pumped the lower half of Shouto’s cock while slathering and sucking attention at what you could fit into your mouth – he was a lot bigger than the dildos you used for your show.

Your mouth was heated sin to Shouto, unafraid to choke a little, gagging ever so often to send incredulous vibrations through his sensitive sex. You were also a bit sloppy, saliva and drool leaking with his precum down his length, dribbling from the corner of your mouth while he pressed further into you. You then pulled from his length, oxygen burning your lungs to take each of Shouto’s balls into your mouth and delicately roll them with your tongue as your fist capriciously switched between fast and slow over his throbbing cock.

Mouth hanging wide and silent, Shouto stared intensely at your slowly blinking form. You nuzzled your nose against the trimmed fuzz at the base of his hot dick, your lips creating a wet pop noise against his balls. The soft touches of your nose against the vein on his cock ignited a broken and almost needy rasp against Shouto’s chest. And when a thumb, wet with your spit and his precum, trailed a line down the backside of his cock, Shouto’s heavy tongue caught up.

“That feels so good!” Shouto moaned, his voice gruff and near unrecognizable by its tenor. “More, y/n, please, more.”

And who were you if you didn’t comply? 

You groaned at the lewd position you were in, his intense duel eyes focused on every move you made while his cock twitches in front of you, your tongue flicking out of your mouth licking the bead of pre-cum on his tip making your cunt throb in anticipation. 

“Look at you, so needy, so innocent,” you giggle, using the hands that had been sensually traveling up and down his cock to angle it better for your await mouth. Brushing his head against your tongue, his pre-cum gathered on the slick surface, you delighted when his stomach contorted with his tightened breathing. You wouldn’t close your mouth to taste him, so saliva dribbling down your tongue against his length. Your hands rubbed it against his cock, using it as natural lubrication as you continue, “desperate for my mouth, aren’t you?”

Shouto tried to nod his head, which made you giggle, grinning down at him as you once more push his cock inside your heated cavern. Pulling it out slowly when you notice that his eyelids close for a little longer than a soft moan. 

“Keep your hands on me, icy-hot,” you coax, tangling his fingers onto your scalp. Keeping your left hand against the back of his thigh to land a slap against his skin to keep him focused. It was something that he found to be shocking, but the hair tugging that followed the surprising hit sent a proper shiver down your spine. You pushed his cock forward again, pushing inside you deeper this time, so his length hit further than the back of your throat. 

The motion once more sending Shouto to some other dimension as he hissed your name. The tightness of your throat, the muscle contracting against his thick cock, and the cold drool the dribbled from your lips sent his mind spinning. He only wanted more, and he craved more. With ragged breathing and the sight of his contracting stomach, his hips began to thrust into your mouth, pressing his cock further into your throat. Each desperate thrust had him hitting the back of your throat, drool slipping out of your mouth as you tried to breathe through your nose, groaning against his length, sending vibrations along Shouto’s cock. 

Your eyes began to water at the slightly suffocating sensation. Still, you were excellent despite the tears slipped down your cheeks, his hips thrusting into you roughly, the sign of an inexperienced man. Moving your hands to his upper thighs, you tried to slow his forceful thrusts, trying to allocate for time to adjust to his size in your throat. Instead, Shouto’s thrusting hips only stammered more, the sinful noises in your throat, sending only better feeling through his body. His eyes can read your eyes that told him this was okay.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Shouto babbles, his hands clutching your hair, fingers digging into your scalp using it as leverage to move you against his length. “I never thought, shit, I never thought it would feel like this, yes, yes do that!”

Your moans vibrated around his length as you let the larger man manipulate your wet cavern. Your tongue now rolling along his length, tracing the sensitive protruding veins on his cock, and with the speed in which he was thrusting into your mouth, it only heightened the desperate noises pouring from his mouth. So much so that he almost stopped shifting his powerful hips all together.

You felt Shouto’s thrusts stagger as he came closer to his release, his hips speeding up, your head bobbing with his final desperation as he gave a final hard push into your mouth. His tip hitting the far back in your throat, and he came inside you with a snarl. His hands held your head down on his length as you grunted, trying to take in all fast release in one swallow, but some spilled out of your mouth. His hot sticky seed dribbling down your chin. 

When you moved pulled to remove his length from your mouth, you immediately closed your mouth, tongue lapping at the cum that escaped your lips. 

Crawling back up to Shouto’s face, you gave a tight-lipped smile when his clammy hands rested against your waist, and with fluttering eyes, you connected your lips again. The minority of his cum still sits in your mouth and is pushed into his mouth with your tongue.

You sat up, your lips still connected to his with a string of entangled saliva and cum, his hands coming around to cup your ass, and with the sexiness, only one could achieve through countless times of stripping, you were finally free from your own lingerie.

“What’re you—”

A gust of air ricocheted from Shout’s lungs as his back slammed into the mattress once again, your hands planted against his shoulders, your head cocked to the side with a mischievous smirk. Shouto doesn’t know how to react, for someone who couldn’t shove him out of the doorway was suddenly handling him just fine in bed. But the thought of that stirred his cock back to life, something you noticed the second it rested against your ass. Shouto groaned in embarrassment, but it didn’t matter to you, who arched down to nuzzle his nose. Then you were licking searing stripes along his neck, teeth nibbling and pulling at his ear, digging at the joint of throat and shoulder, Shouto’s tilted chin and swollen wet lips.

Knees dug into the sides of Shouto’s chest, your nails cutting crescents into the slick shining mountains of his shoulders, Shouto hands grasped onto your naked form for dear life, coercing the storm of your shared desire. The impatient and growing unignorable weight of Shouto’s cock slotted between your slick and sopping cunt. Sloppy wet with your untouched arousal, a ticking timebomb of pleasure each time you thrust back against his rehardened cock.

“Y/n, please—” Shouto choked on his words, a lusting cry when he cracked his head back against the soft mattress at the moment you carted his hot cock against your dripping, aching cunt with one firm and delicate palm and your other pressing your weight against his chest. “Oh shit, yes, fuck – yes, more. Please, put it in, y/n. I want, shit, I want you to fuck me properly, y/n—”

“So fuckin’ needy,” your breathlessly giddy reply came, your words soaked the ear and filled Shouto’s head completely. Tightening his grip on your waist to accommodate a stronger hold on you in a desperate thought to sane himself, you began a more frantic rhythm of work-roughened humping. “Is this how you responded back to me when I stream? Do you listen to my instructions the entire time, Shou-to?”

The squelch and wet noises of your hips dragging staccato against Shouto’s throbbing skin was maddening, dumbing him down to strangled huffs and squeaks against your swollen lips. The pulse against Shouto’s own lips raged, a frantic desire for him that both weakened and empowered him to the bone.

Shouto’s finger dug into your skin, leaving imprinted bruises where he touched, his hips slamming up into yours. Wanting more, craving more, and with nothing more to hold from him, you complied and with a wet noise, sunk all the way down against him.

“Shit, shit, wait,” Shouto hoarsely whispered, his nails ripping moons into your skin while he panted against your skin. “You’re too tight, Imma cum, fuck, wait…”

You laughed against his mouth, but you didn’t move, allowing him the time to adjust his brow slick with sweat, eyes closed in concentration. Regardless, your walls fluttered around him while you adjusted, and he shivered with every involuntary move. “You good?��� you murmur against his mouth, tongue lapping at his pressed white lips.

He nods once, and you grin, taking that as means to push as far up as you could, and with your entire weight and clench of your muscles, sunk back down against him.

A savage snarl ripped from Shouto’s throat, more animal than man as he tore at your lips, his mouth open with a hot tongue and teeth that tugged at your lips. You had no choice but to open up, letting his tongue meet yours while you felt his cock throbbing against your clenching walls. You met him in full innocent need, your kisses were uncoordinated attack from all angles, his hand working their way to your ass, once again gripping and pulling that the soft and warm flesh.

Your hips rolled against his, lifting up and falling with growing forces, 

The small of Shouto’s waist burned raw from how it kept curling into the mattress, his shoulders singing with sharp pain from your fingernails. Your breaths puff against Shouto’s lips as if you had never taken a single deep breath in your life like you’d flung yourself into the open flames just to fuck Shouto. The fill of his cock, the maddening way that his cock filled you out, it made your head spin and your knees tremble. With each twitch of his cock, his protruding veins pushing against your spongey walls, increasing the sensation, sending fire to your curling toes. Your weight pushing heavy on Shouto now, sandwiching him hard against the gentle mattress when he couldn’t meet you in an upwards thrust, too lost in the sensation of your smoldering cunt around his cock. 

Shouto’s thighs and stomach quivered in your conquest, his words an unclear babble in his prayer to you. The air was filled with the scent of sex, sweat, cum, and something else. Something you couldn’t put your tongue on, but it stirred you on more with the wet slapping noises of your meeting hips.

It was too much, too much, yet nowhere near enough.

“Y/n, I’m gonna—” Shouto searched for his words a short raspy cry, his cock swelling up and pulsing in your clenching walls, his fingers clenching around the nape of your neck. Bringing you in for another hot kiss. “Gonna—”

“Cum for me,” was the only thing you rasped in his mouth, your lips a deceivingly soft push against Shouto’s bruised lips.

Shouto shot off inside of you like an exploding fire, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he could only see white and feel you. His grip tightened around your body, pressing you slick against him. But the increased angle is what sends you over the edge, your eyes rolling when your body tenses, pleasure, and relief swallowing you whole when your orgasm overcomes you.

“Shouto,” you mewl in a cracked croak of a voice, your face buried in Shouto’s shoulder as he feels your walls spasm against his cock in almost insane ways. 

“That… shit,” he breathes, unable to think.

“Yeah, same,” you mumble, moving to press a kiss onto his lips.

His body rolls off warmth from his skin, and together, the two of you fall asleep on the bed, entangled in sweat and cum and only elation in your blood.

bonus!

“TODOROKI-KUN!” Iida’s voice pierces through his phone when Shouto wakes up the next morning.

“Iida,” he greets, watching while you brush your teeth, studying the various marks on your body from the night before.

“WHY DID YOU RELEASE A SEX TAPE?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Iida?”

“CHECK THE NEWS RIGHT AWAY!”

BREAKING NEWS: PRO HERO SHOUTO CAUGHT IN BED WITH CAMGIRL UNDER THE NAME APHRODITE

It was then that the two of you realized you had never turned off your session.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha x reader #bnha

[lierenprotectionsquad]

Path To Isolation

Drafted (1.15.21)

I wrote this as a salt fic about my transphobic teacher who publicly shamed, bullied and humiliated me because of my pronouns. It’s sort of inspired by RWBY, sort of not. Eike is inspired Jaques Schnee as well as my old teacher, and Robin is inspired by Weiss Schnee as well as me. This contains direct lines from Jeff Williams’ Path To Isolation, as well as Pyrrha Nikos’ destiny mentality and elements resembling a reverse My R by Hikaru Station. I purposefully over exaggerated the ridicule of boys in theater and colorblind artists, as I have never heard of anyone in today’s day and age facing such hurtful criticism for those things. That is not to say that it might not happen to people! Anyway, enjoy this attack on my transphobic teacher!

UPDATE! (2.6.21) Turns out I might actually be going back to that cursed school after all...

Once upon a time, there was a rich man named Eike. He wasn't very appreciated by the working class, for his ways were unethical. The lower class, the poor, worked in the mines while he sat comfortably in the big white house on the hilltop. He got richer with each day that passed, while the lower class hardly earned enough to survive. He wasn't very appreciated by the working class, and his shadow fell dark upon his children. Robin was very different from their siblings because society had rules. Rules the other two were happy to follow, but not Robin. Robin had never felt like a part of society, yet couldn't figure out why. Until they could. They were unlike most others, and Eike wouldn't have any of it. He tried desperately to change his child's view, but Robin has always been one to stand firm in their opinions and feelings. "Why can't you be like everyone else?" he asked. "Why can't I be like myself?" Robin asked. "It isn't normal. I refuse to relate to something I've never seen before! You're not special!" He said. "No," said Robin, "I'm not special. But are you really so singleminded that you cannot open yourself up for something new?" "Excuse me?" He said. Now he was angry. Robin could see it. "It isn't even new. There are many people everywhere who are like me!" They screamed. "Well then, why don't you go to them." Said Eike, and then he left, leaving Robin in their sorrows.

"Why," they said, "Why can I not live as myself having to meet ridicule from those I once trusted?" Robin had to look around themself, for they could not think of a solution. They walked towards their room but stopped in the stairway. "What if I fell down the stairs? Then all my sorrows would vanish. No one could hurt and mock me anymore. I would be free." They stood there for a while. No, Robin could not do that. They would lose. They walked the rest of the way up to their room and looked in the mirror. "Who is that?" They asked themself, "why do I not know this person looking back at me? I know who I am. But how can I find myself if I'm constantly forced to conform?

They needed to isolate themself from the enemy, and that would not happen in the city. So in the cover of darkness, they left their home. Robin travelled for three days before running into someone. A boy holding a book. "Hello," said Robin. "Hello," said the boy. "Why are you out here alone?" They asked. "I wanted to be an actor, but everyone I know says acting is for girls, so I left." He answered. "Do you believe in destiny?" asked Robin. "That depends on how you look at it. I don't believe in any predetermined fate," he said. And Robin knew where he was going with it. "But a final goal." They said. "I am on a journey to find a place for myself where no one will mock me. Do you wish to come with me? You can perform for me on our journey." The boy smiled wide. "Yes." He said. And they continued their journey together.

They travelled for another three days before they met someone else. This was a girl who sat by the road and cried. "Hello," said Robin. "Hello," said the girl. "Why are you out here alone?" They asked. "I wanted to be a singer, but no one has faith in me because I am afraid of singing in front of others, so I left." She answered. "Do you believe in destiny?" asked Robin. "Well, I don't think I believe in any predetermined fate. But rather," she said. And Robin knew where she was going with it. "A final goal." They said. "We are on a journey to find a place for ourselves where no one will mock us. Do you wish to come with us? You can sing for us on our journey." The girl smiled wide. "Yes." She said. And they continued their journey together.

They travelled for another three days before they met someone else. This was a girl with a paintbrush in her hair. "Hello," said Robin. "Hello," said the girl. "Why are you out here alone?" They asked. "I wanted to be a painter, but everyone says I'll never make it because I do not see colour like they do, so I left." She answered. "Do you believe in destiny?" asked Robin. "No. Or, maybe. Not those predetermined fates. But rather," she said. And Robin knew where she was going with it. "A final goal." They said. "We are on a journey to find a place for ourselves where no one will mock us. Do you wish to come with us? You can paint us a picture of our journey." The girl smiled wide. "Yes." She said. And they continued their journey together.

They travelled long, long and longer than long before they met one more. This person was different from the others. "Hello," said Robin. "Hello," they said. "Why are you out here alone?" Asked Robin. "My name is Clove, and I am on a journey. Every time I see myself in the mirror, it is harder to recognize myself. I see only who they want me to be and that I cannot stand for. I know who I am, but I can't find myself when I'm constantly forced to conform. I am on a journey to find a place for myself where the society I grew up in cannot reach me." They answered. The four travellers could not believe it—one like them. One who had already set out on their own journey with a clear goal. One like Robin. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?" Asked Clove. "Broken artists, outcasts of society. We are like you, on the hunt for a place in the world." Answered Robin. "The path to isolation is littered with the dreams that lay destroyed," said Clove to themself, "but maybe not anymore. Do you believe in destiny?" No one had words. "When I think of destiny, I don't think of a predetermined fate you can't escape. But rather some sort of final goal, something you work towards your entire life. What if something comes to show you that your destiny can be achieved? Or what if something comes along that will let you fulfill your destiny in an instant?" "What?" Robin asked. Clove was making no sense to them. "I believe that it is my destiny to find a place where I can just be me. And what if you are my chance to fulfill it?" Said Clove. "I want to come with you!" "Then come with us." Said Robin. And the five continued on their journey together.

They travelled for many days, but they were not tired. For they travelled with laughter and song and plays and stories. They shared with each other their dreams and taught each other their crafts. Robin thought they would have to find their place alone. And so did the boy with the book, the girl who cried and the girl with the paintbrush in her hair. Clove thought they would have to do it alone. But they found each other and realized that they were the goal they had all been reaching for. The path to isolation was not so isolated after all.

#path to isolation #nonbinary #lgbtqia+ #weiss schnee #mine

[ephemerlskies]

the lighthouse | jjk

⇢ pairing: reader x jungkook

⇢ genre: one shot, fluff (what's new), strangers to "lovers", mutual pining, so much sap you're gonna have to shower after reading this, ANGST, jungkook is a literary scholar (?) of sorts

⇢ word count: 12k

⇢ warnings: as stated before, it's Cheesy with a capital C, lots of introspection, brief mentions of death, explicit language, mommy issues, (((major plot twist)))

⇢ summary: you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled. was this going to be another disappointing chapter in the book of unattainable desires or could your encounter with the mysterious man who lived in the lighthouse lead to something much more?

a/n: i'm super proud of how this turned out even though it ripped my heart out of my chest... this was probably my favorite fic to write and ahh im so happy to release it!!!! i hope you lovely little angels enjoy!! :) <3

What makes us human? This question posed by your philosophy teacher had been stalking your thoughts hours after class had ended. As the rain padded against your umbrella, you piled in a few answers to this question. 

What makes us human? A question that would seemingly have a clear cut answer, but when you got down to it, there was no distinct characteristic that differentiates humans from other animals. It was easy to say something such as how we have complex linguistics or industrialized civilization, but that is to discredit how the packs of wolves howl to each other, the birds sing from tree to tree, the beavers diligently construct their dams, or the dirt cities in which ants build their own societies not much different than humans. 

You pondered the idea that we love so deeply, even when it is often unreturned, but there is no denying the way a mother bear strikes down any and all enemies to protect her baby cub is anything other than true love.

So, what makes us human? You sat on a bench placed on the sidelines where you could witness small scenes of the lives of passing strangers. This sonder might be what makes us human. The knowledge that each person lives and loves and cries and fears and speaks and dies in ways with which you will never begin to familiarize. Life continues on around you despite how unimportant it may seem to the rest. 

Does a lion waste any moment of his time wondering how the deer had found its way to the shallow pond, whilst preparing to strike? Of course not. 

You watched a couple clinging onto each other and wondered where they met. You then were captured in the peace of an old woman prodding around in the grass with her golden retriever; perhaps it was her last companion. Then, your eyes drifted towards the two boys pushing each other over but with the gentleness one could only assume that was out of friendship or perhaps brotherhood.

And then you saw him. 

Gentle fingers tracing the stacks of magazines lined in a perfect column; an arm that disappeared into the sleeve of his dark, wool coat. A tweed newsboy hat sheltering his eyes, and deep chestnut Oxford shoes stepping lightly, nearing a tiptoe, between the cracks of each cement plate, weathered by the infinite other shoes that tread on those very grounds. A body so magnetizing and moving as if it were a secret, and you couldn’t imagine why no one else had been ingested by the enigma that is this man. You longed for him to reveal these secrets that hid underneath his hat and coat, though if he wouldn’t, which he most likely wouldn’t, you had no problem with seeking them out yourself.

In a city filled with young souls draped in modern streetwear, jeans, bright colors, and converse or Dr. Martens or perhaps high heels, catching this needle in the haystack plugged into every synapse of wonderment. The muted tones of his clothing gleamed the brightest out of the sea of strangers.

This is what made you human. Your desire to know everything that lies barely beyond your wingspan. Everything you could hold was close to nothing in meaning, and everything your arms could not reach was always all you could ever want. The rise of your legs, the way you replicated his every movement, running your fingers along the stack of magazines, fastidious prancing in the spaces between the cracks, and your subtle pursuit of the man just out of reach was what made you human. 

Bodies bustling through your path failed to untether you from this chase. It felt far beyond your power to stop yourself from the rising excitement and allure in your chest that pulled you towards him. The man was quick and swift to dodge oncoming bystanders, however your eyes became a missile fixed on a target. 

The unexpected turn he took had you floundering for you had been trapped behind an older lady and a couple walking side by side. Sadly, your memorization of the streets and landmarks had been admisal, so you found yourself in uncharted territory. Each road sign and corner store had been displayed like a foreign language, and you mentally cursed yourself for letting your silly lust for learning what shouldn’t be learned lead you into this difficult position.  

You stood defeated, the man had evaded your fragile trail behind him with ease. You lost him, or maybe he got away.

It was still midday, prompting you to make an end of this means. Your eyes discovered the coast set along the edge of the town, and though this was the furthest you had ever gone, you dared to go further. This mishap of yours granted you the opportunity to introduce yourself to the shore, and the waves have always delighted your interest. So, you found it just to walk down to the sand. The sound of the water pressing into the wet sand was calming; it was something you could find yourself getting used to. Luck presented itself kindly, giving you a moment unencumbered by the rain that had ceased not long after you stepped foot on the beach. 

You took this time to be with yourself and sort out all the problems that have been worrying your mind these past few weeks. Your best friend, Chaeyoung, had an upcoming birthday that had snuck up on you before you had the chance to even think about getting her a card, let alone a gift or celebration. And you would be disappointed with yourself if you failed to outdo last year’s efforts. There was also the test in your Chemistry class scheduled only a day after her birthday, curtailing your plans of staying out late because there was no way you would allow for anything less than your very most on this exam. Then, there was the essay on what makes us human that you denied any chance of regaining priority to your list of worries, knowing it would gnaw at your mind until you forcibly shut it out.

And the man that willed you to seek him out, and that wore the title of his stories as if he intentionally wished to spark your wonder to learn them.

That should have been the last of your worries. It should have been. 

The day began to fade into a warm, orange dusk. Skies once gloomy and grey now covered in blankets of clouds reflecting the sun’s gentle rays and you found yourself reunited with the calming feeling similar to when you first stepped on the beach. 

Not long after registering how far you had traveled along the shore, you noticed a quaint lighthouse with a house-like structure at the base. The off-white stones cemented up until a red paneled roof covered it, tempting you to know what lies behind those walls.

It looked like it was about to rain again.

Are lighthouses closed off from the public? 

There’s a house, there must be someone inside that could help me find my way home. 

All these comments to yourself made to premise the conclusion of entrance into this lighthouse. As you approached the door, framed in oak lining and painted red, the clouds appeared heavy once again. A few drops of condensation was enough persuasion that what was about to be done was for the good of your well being. You pushed it open and a creak echoed around the room inside. 

The walls were covered with stone bricks and there was one table in the center of the room. Other than that, this house was barren and if it weren’t for the second door that you guessed led to the lighthouse you would have called a car to take you home. 

Your walk was pensive and mouse-like; there was some quality about this structure that made you feel like you weren’t alone and sudden movements would disrupt an established peace. Your hand turned the cold, gold-plated handle and pulled open the door, soon being met with a warm gust of air that engulfed you into the lighthouse. 

This part of the building was exponentially more decorated than the room that preceded it. A staircase cemented into the sides of the lighthouse plastered with shelves upon shelves of books spiraled along the cylindrical walls, paired with dull lanterns that illuminated each level of railing had you drawn into its magnificence.

You stared up to what looked like a platform that held a place in which one would rest and look out into the ocean. There was no one in sight, and you assumed permission to climb up the staircase. Your eyes scanned each spine, creased and slightly warped from the moisture of the air, like they had been read over and over again. Your breath became heavy and your stare was focused on the books to ignore the dizziness settling in.

Reaching the top of the staircase came as a blessing, your lungs were close to catching fire. There were two armchairs, side by side, one fashioned a knitted blanket and the other was used as a table for five to seven or so novels, and the walls behind buried in high stacks of more books. There had to be at least seventy in the first half of piles you accounted for, and before you had the chance to snoop around the rest of the room you heard a voice coated with alarm behind you.

“What are you doing in here?” Your breath halted as you turned around, about to explain why you had let yourself into this building, however no amount of words could fully justify this invasive act. 

You recognized the wool coat and the tweed hat now resting in his hand instead of on his head. His eyes were shrouded in a youthful innocence despite his attire that implied he was a sophisticate of some sort. 

“Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the police?” The boom of his voice was chilling, sending shivers along your neck and chest. 

“Sorry, I’m-” How could you possibly defend your intrusion without sounding juvenile or absolutely insane? “I was… It was raining and I just was walking on the beach so-”

“So, you decided breaking and entering was better than getting a little wet?” His barbed responses hurdled how you plaintively stuttered around excuses. Despite his efforts to seem menacing, you couldn't let go of his boyish facial features. It was absolutely astonishing to you that someone who looked young enough to attend your own college and handsome enough to garner quite a bit of attention had anything to do with this dingy, aged lighthouse.

“No, I was going to come in here to ask for directions. I’m lost.” The pitiful temperament of this comment was not intentional, but the man who now stood in front of you felt itched by it. He couldn't ignore how your legs trembled, partly from the cold but also because of his raised voice directed at you, and how that admittedly aroused some guilt.

“It’s fine. Just-” He sighed deeply, placing his hat on the side table adjacent to the left armchair, “You can just wait here until the rain stops. Though, I have to say it looks unrelenting at the moment.” The man’s attention was captured by how the heavy rain seemed to wage war against the raging tides. You caught a glimpse of a smile. The slightest upturn of the corner of his lips almost compelling you to reveal you had spotted him in the town earlier today, and that you found yourself enamoured with his every movement, and he was ironically the reason you were stuck here.

“Are you sure? I can go, I shouldn't have been here in the first place.” The words escaped from your mouth quickly as if they were trying to race each other to be spoken.

“No, I said it’s fine.” The suddenness of this offer hushed you. He then removed his wool coat, unveiling the clothes he wore beneath it. The burgundy crew neck sweater layered tastefully over a collared shirt was just as old fashioned as every other article of clothing he sported. How intriguing.

“I'm sorry.” Your muscles grew sore from suppressing how aggressively you would have been shaking from the cold. “Thank you.” Him granting you shelter gave you motive to keep the umbrella that would suffice to protect you from the rain under wraps. The option he presented was far more favorable.

“Sit down. Please, use this blanket.” He gestured towards the throw draped over the right armchair. His eyes avoided you as much as he could manage though you had this glow emulating from your wanting eyes and soft looking skin that crept to the corner of his vision too brightly to ignore. Consequently, this comment soothed both your body and mind for he unguarded a kindness that was hidden when he first spoke to you. 

“My name is ___.” He was facing the window that displayed the sea, now thrashing and falling into itself, and without moving his head, his eyes drifted towards you.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh- How?” Maybe accepting an invite in a secluded lighthouse on the beach wasn’t the safest thing you could be doing on a Friday afternoon. Anxiety pioneered a place in your breathing, turning it rushed and choked.

Before your mind could theorize all the ways in which you could make an escape from this room or how quickly you could use your hidden umbrella as a weapon he said, “I noticed you following me in the town’s square earlier today.” You sighed, releasing the terror that pricked your lungs. If anything, it was he who should be afraid of you.

“I’m not a stalker!” That weak defense was all you could push from your throat before any well constructed explanations could be put forth. 

His laugh, along with his cryptic gaze towards the waves, made you feel even worse about your actions.

“You were just so stunning and I wanted to know what kind of person still wears a newsboy hat without trying to make a statement.” Your lower lip tucked between your teeth stopped the nervous laugh about to spill and expressed worry that the more you tried to explain yourself, the more this man believed you should be charged for stalking not to mention trespassing.

“Stunning?”

“I mean, like, someone I’d want to meet.”

“What were you planning on doing once I stopped somewhere, or noticed you?” He questioned you only because he relished how you were scrambling to a proper defense. He knew you weren’t any threat to him, not many people were, however he enjoyed your chatter more than the silence that would have taken its place.

“I don't know, maybe just… introduce myself?” This sheepish, yet honest, reply had you drowning in humiliation, while the man before you seemed as if he were floating effortlessly along the surface. 

“I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” Relief replaced the worry that he would turn you away, leaving you to the hands of the storm outside. The fact that any other person would have done so led you to believe Jungkook held a lot more compassion than he let on. You held your hand to greet him, finding it only polite to execute this formality. His, however, remained folded behind his back, notably denting your ego as you retracted your hand quicker than you extended it.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself in slight embarrassment from this trivial rejection. “So, do you live here or something?” Your question was first replied to with a breath of annoyance. Jungkook was kind enough to allow you a sanctuary from the rain, exemption from the intrusion and stalking, and now he found himself having to entertain you.

“Yeah, something like that.” All this disinterested answer did was persist your attempts to break his catatonic gaze. However, his reserve had been solidified steadily over the years, so this venture was going to be tough.

“I didn’t know you could live in a lighthouse?” Your inquiry was spoken with the hopes this would ignite a lasting conversation. 

“It’s not a lighthouse, technically.” Jungkook’s affirmative tone flew right over your head, conjuring even more annoyance that oddly enticed him to continue responding to your dense questions.

“Well, it looks like a lighthouse. It’s shaped like a lighthouse. It’s on the beach, just like a lighthouse.” A chuckle joined the sigh of his breath and his head that shook at your shallow observations. Jungkook eventually turned around and made his way towards the stacks of books, trying to preoccupy himself from whatever this exchange was. “All signs point to this being a lighthouse.”

“Well, it’s not. Lighthouses are meant to send signals to the ships out at sea. This doesn't,” His curt response tickled your amusement, only encouraging you to further aggravate him. “Therefore, not a lighthouse.”

“Okay,” You sounded agreeable, but this was soon followed by a doubtful comment whispered just loud enough for Jungkook’s ear to catch it, “It’s a lighthouse.” He found his stoicism melting away due to your spiteful attitude and conniving giggle in the face of his frustration. You wanted to get a rise out of him, and he knew this, and you were doing a fine job at it.

“It’s not-” His voice elevated with excitement, but he soon tamed the defensiveness threatening to spill from his lips, “Do you want to go back out into the rain?” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Though, you sounded all but remorseful. The sly smirk resting on your face matched Jungkook’s satisfied expression, despite these smiles surfacing for different reasons. You couldn’t deny how humorous it was to distemper this man. How all the worries you laid out like the pebbles and seashells on this beach were washed away by the tides. Meanwhile, his grin provided little contribution in masking his enjoyment of your company and relentless curiosity.

You now sat in the right armchair, bundled in the blanket. It was not necessarily a thick blanket, but the chills once disturbing you had dwindled almost immediately. You were still entranced by Jungkook's movements. His hands were now occupied with a book from one of the stacks he’d been eyeing; the way he cradled the book like it was a newborn baby further revealed he had a somewhat protective attitude towards them. 

“What are you reading?” His eyes remained between the pages and lines of the book, but his focus was yet again thieved by your incessant curiosity. Jungkook thought it irritating similarly to how one would find a cat disrupting their owner from work, annoying yet ever so endearing, and adorably distracting.

“I’m not reading, I’m being bothered by you.” His snark was meant to damage your brazen pestering, but unknown to him it merely fueled it.

“Boohoo.” No matter how elementary that retort was, you still managed to fever him and hold hostage his attention.

“I’m reading The Odyssey.” Jungkook surrendered to you, placing the book on his lap that was now sitting in the armchair next to yours. “Why do you ask so many questions?” His eyes laid on you the same way they laid on the sea, filled to the brim with fascination. 

“I just wanted to know what you were reading.” Even when he expressed a clear indication that he was past your nonsense, it went unnoticed like the particles of dust flitting around the darkened room. This oblivion of yours prompted your next question. “Could you read it to me?”

His eyebrows furrowed at this request. Jungkook had already found himself exhausted by your persistence, and predicted ‘no’ would not be accepted as a viable answer. He just sighed and began to read aloud.

His soft voice somehow drowned out the sea’s commotion. The words flowed off his tongue as if he wrote the book himself; such poise for a young man lured you to immerse yourself in his narration and time grew more and more abstract. 

After a bit, Jungkook paused to examine how you'd received his reading and he was pleased to find your chin resting in your palm and your eyes and ears fixed onto him as if he were reading the gospel. This made it difficult, impossible, to deny entry for the subtle blush working its way on his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied?” He closed the book, peering out of the window to check if the weather had eased since you arrived. Though the intensity of the storm hadn’t lightened in the slightest, there was a new tranquility adopted by the drizzling sky waters that sank and fed into the waves.

“Never.” You replied with a hungered conviction twisted into your words, “What happens next?”

Jungkook laughed in shock of how eager you were to hear more of this story. It was unlike someone who wasn’t well versed in literature to genuinely enjoy listening to this archaic novel. 

“Why are you laughing? Read more!” Your whine came off a bit childlike, but succeeded in its goal. 

“It’s getting late.” He commented with a gentle sternness, though he proceeded to reopen the book. Your peculiar attention naturally drew him to oblige your desires. Even in the midst of a storm, even as the hours slipped by and the evening had been born, he continued to read.

You settled back into your chair in rejoice that you’d get to spend a bit more time with Jungkook. He was practically a stranger, and still there was a climate of comfort and intimacy that took the place of the crisp, winter air when he read from his book. He felt it too, and that was reason enough to allow you this company.

Throughout the chapter he had been working to finish, he snuck glances to find your eyes growing heavy with sleep as each page turned. Jungkook halted from reading and was trapped in the flush of your cheeks and lips and how your mouth hung slightly ajar as you inhaled the cold, wet air of the lighthouse. The puffs of breath that billowed from your lips had him yearning to know a warmth so full with life and curiosity.

“Are-” Jungkook tensed at the idea of disturbing your sleep, as if you hadn’t barged into his life without a hint of permission. “Are you asleep?”

Your head lifted slowly, then held stiff to maintain consciousness, “I was just resting my eyes. I’m not tired, I want you to read more.” You said this in spite of knowing you would drift asleep if he did.

“I think we are done reading for now.” The book closed for the last time, his hands pressing against the cover to seal his assurance. “You should head home.”

“But, I don’t know how the book ends.” This weak argument came from a place of jaded desperation. Regardless, he almost fell victim to your subdued urgency but any sensibility he could garner warned him not to allow this. You were quite obviously tired and he prefered you be safe in your own bed before the night advanced.

“Well, that’s because I only just started this book and it is very, very long.” Jungkook hoped this would usher you out even if that meant the return of loneliness would seep between the pillows of the right armchair after you left him with his solitude. 

“Well, I won’t be able to get these questions out of my mind unless I finish the book.” Another weak argument drained from your inventory of excuses. Maybe a change of subject would present an opportunity to linger in his company. “Also, why do you live here all alone?”

“I just do. I feel like I don’t have to explain this to you.” Jungkook was bewildered at his admission to give you, an unannounced and uninvited visitor, any explanations and still he was close to doing exactly that. “You’re quite invested in my personal life.” As much as that was true, his withdrawal from your curiosity wasn't all that effortful. Living in secrecy and desolation had the feeling of companionship nearly vanishing from his memory and you reunited him with  that warmth. And, he had not realized how it had nearly been forgotten or how much he missed it until he finally felt it again. 

“You seem like someone who has better things to attend to.” The lament that stained his words bore such heartache that was soon displaced in your chest. 

“No, no. My life is boring, and I don’t know. What person wouldn’t be interested in the personal life of a hermit who lives in a lighthouse?” You stood and paced around the platform towering over the swirling bookshelves below, towering over what felt like the entire world with Jungkook. The end of the blanket trailed your footstep as your drooping eyes skimmed the multicolored novels which were remarkably arranged alphabetically by author. How he had the time or patience to organize the hundreds of books he owned was beyond your comprehension. Every detail you acquired from Jungkook was stored in a compartment of your heart, almost as if it were assigned by fate. They were told in riddles and secrets and everything else meant to be deciphered.

“Not a hermit, and not a lighthouse. I couldn’t imagine someone like you being bored with your life.” His voice had become welcoming, with a hint of genuine interest, and this transition felt imminent ever since you first introduced yourself. The tilt of your head signified your agreement with his last statement and implied there was something that bothered you about this truth.

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you. Curious, young with your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to believe you should be bored with that.”

“You say that as if you aren't the same age as me.” Jungkook shrugged lazily and scuffed his shoes against the rug as he now stood against the window sill, observing your interest of his books.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, and yet I am all those things. Bored, curious, and I’m here talking to a complete stranger that totally has the capability to murder me like in those movies instead of going back home.” Your comment that snuck out had wrested a soft chuckle from Jungkook. They were absentmindedly thrown into the air that filled the space between you and him, nurturing his reciprocated fascination with you. Your diligent grazing of each book had distracted how the weight of your eyelids heavied by the minute.

“It’s not like I don’t have great people in my life or a quality education that takes up most of my time, I just,” Your brief pause was to turn your attention over to Jungkook, who did not hide how he was listening intently to these confessions, alleviating from a place in need of emptying. His eyebrow was arched in a manner that jolted you back to your senses. You’d revealed one too many privacies to someone who you had been acquainted with only hours ago. Mortification would have bathed your body if not for the way Jungkook seemed to strongly engage with your openness.

“You just?” He staged his interest overtly to correct the imbalance of how your genuinity left you hanging lower than him on the emotional scale. Jungkook believed that was the least he could do to mitigate the embarrassment about to silence you. 

“Uh, I just never seem to be satisfied with what I have. And that makes me seem like a greedy, spoiled child which makes me even more frustrated with myself.” You admitted, pulling the blanket over your shoulders tighter as if that would shield you from the compromising guilt slithering out of your body. “And that’s how I see myself. Ungrateful and spoiled.” This certainly scraped the barrel of your deep rooted disgust with yourself.

“Not spoiled, just lost.” His response felt like a soft and thoughtful embrace, granted that this was meant to ease the tinge of reproach in your heart. The words he spoke caressed your cheeks and told you that every horrid thing you thought of yourself was flawed.

“I’ve certainly been in your position.” He euphemized what he really wanted to say to you, that he saw himself in you. Even though you spoke very little on this, he felt himself living every experience you alluded to as if he had been right beside you your whole life. Or rather that you had witnessed his life and suffered identical desires and grievances and adversities and were simply retelling his story down to the most intricate detail; and somehow you made it sound brand new and a thousand times more aching. He was stranded in a state of amazement, ambushed by your pain and how even in moments of emotional destitution, you were unquestionably beautiful.  

Likewise, this stranger, who was no longer estranged, and his kind words nearly compensated for the billions of people you could never meet, all the dreams you wanted but could never alter into incarnation, and all the disappointments that plagued your heart.

And you felt held by his words, his voice, him.

“You’ve been in my position?” You requested confirmation.

“I was. Certainly.” And he confirmed.

“Where are you now?” In turn, you wanted this to suggest, ‘where can I find you?’

This question carried profound sentiment on both the giving and receiving end of it. To you, this yearned for advice. Any piece of wisdom would gladly, gratefully be accepted to ease this rampage of constant dissatisfaction. To him, it resurfaced a series of speculations long undisturbed until you had asked this question; a place intentionally void of all attention because it was sometimes too grim to remember. A haze of difficulty crowded a definite answer, though he knew there was one. He couldn’t place his finger on a fitting response and found himself next to you in search of the answer.

Where are you now?

This haunted his mind for a bit, leaving him speechless and albeit impressed, for once, by your curiosity. 

“It’s hard to say. Somewhere in between, I suppose.” Whatever meaning this carried did not resonate as sound to you. The mere idea of being on the end of perpetual longing, waiting for a clear path to the end that promised fulfillment, made it implausible to settle on being somewhere in between the two. Again, you were left unsatisfied and feeling a burden placing itself on your shoulders and wallowing a fit of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook noticed how your eyes fell from his, down to the maroon accents of the rug, and felt out of place. Out of place, in his own lighthouse, all because your gaze and attention he’d grown used to in this short time wasn’t directed at him.

“That’s the kind of ambiguity that leaves me so hungry.” He nodded in agreeance with the twisted cruelty of his response you had pointed out. Jungkook didn’t know how or why he’d come to turn every corner and check each crevasse to find what could settle your appetite. This whole time, though, he sailed through this painstaking search without a trace of uncertainty. His illusion of disinterest and annoyance soon dissolved into the floor that your eyes hadn’t strayed from. 

“Maybe if I lived in a quaint, not-lighthouse I would be satisfied with that answer, but I don’t. I live a normal, normal, normal life.” The repetition of your words stressed your fatigue of this dullness, your desire for everything just inches away from your fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a normal life. I think it’s wrong that we have put the idea of drama and excitement on a pedestal.” This outlook, unlike the last, did gain traction in stripping the thick ambiguity around Jungkook’s mind. To your surprise, you could be satisfied with the small pieces of this man’s mystery being chipped bit by bit. 

He was well aware of his deep rooted appreciation that accompanied your eyes as it moved towards him once again. There was some sense of purposefulness in this glance that demoted his callousness to tender captivation.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“I have a hard time believing you only have one more question.” His doubtfulness didn’t seem to discourage you, or him.

“For real! Only one more, it’s important.” The only way to prove whether or not this question was truly important was for you to ask it. His head nodded his approval.

“What do you think makes us human?” Before he could answer, a swell of perplexity had overtaken his thoughts on this. You could tell, out of everyone, Jungkook would have a profound answer that could save you hours of contemplation over your philosophy essay’s prompt. 

“That’s an interesting question.”

“An interesting question in need of an answer.” You prodded him for his response, though this was pointless if there was no response that could possibly be constructed. Not a response of reason that you seemed to require, but of feeling. Like an instinct, and that in itself made it inapplicable to this question.

“Ask me again some other time. I don’t know if the answer is that simple.”

But, of course, it was. The answer, in his eyes, was blindingly clear.

“I’ll hold you to that!” He gladly took accountability for that commitment. An unfamiliar contentment with the unknown had lodged in your chest when the promise of spending time together emerged through the once conditional circumstances. The promise that transformed those conditional circumstances to voluntary acts.

This humbling discovery left a wide grin on your face, beaming directly towards Jungkook. 

Jungkook peered over to the antique clock placed on a shelf next to the window. The aversion of his eyes was to save face from how your soft smile that projected praise and attachment had effectively unnerved him; he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his fingers that twitched out of pure elation. 

The hour hand stationed on the twelve carved in roman numerals verified how his company had erased any discern for the hours that passed. They had floated away so silently, slowly that you could have sworn time froze altogether. 

“Oh shit, it’s midnight? Fuck me.” The decibels of your voice boomed against the walls, it could have shaken the stacks of books down to a pile of mess. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t even realize it was so late.” You unraveled yourself from the blanket and collected your belongings in a bit of a frenzy. 

“It’s alright. I, um, I had a nice time.” He distanced himself from you swiftly as you dashed across the room to the edge of the stairs. Even in a hurried state, you still looked back to him and offered a smile, unsure if that was enough to suffice for a proper gesture of gratitude. 

“Me too.” The words were close to inaudible, but you knew he heard them loud and clear, along with the string of implications that were laced in them. 

“Oh and by the way, make good use of that umbrella. It looks like it could start raining again.” Your ears felt engorged with flames when he’d revealed his knowledge of your little secret. It was foolish of you to believe you could outsmart Jungkook because what you thought obscure was well within his range of astuteness and the umbrella, still damp from the rain, was apparent from the beginning.

You didn’t catch how he’d been smiling when you turned away bashfully, strutting down the stairs in an attempt to portray false confidence. But if you did, you would have picked up on his mutual indulgence in your visit, the absolute bliss laden in his eyes. You grasped tightly to the joy evoked from the thought of seeing him again, however your nerves held a tighter grasp that did not allow you to express this to him. Perhaps your giggles of excitement, surely heard by Jungkook, spilling from your throat as you rushed out the empty room or the way you clutched your umbrella to your chest in admittance you had purposefully kept that fact from him would give Jungkook a clue of how thankful you were to meet him. And even more so to be able to see him again.

As you parted from the lighthouse that was not a lighthouse, something in between, you felt that the comfort you once had taper off with the growing distance from the not-lighthouse. You were fraught with a gentle yearning to turn back, run up the spiraling stairs, settle yourself back into the right armchair, and ask humbly to stay a while longer.

Little did you know, Jungkook’s hopes coincided with yours like two concentric circles. 

(One week later)

If it wasn’t the question left unanswered that motivated you, it was the fact that you missed the view of the beach from the window. Or maybe it was the countless supply of book titles that you didn’t get to finish inspecting. Perhaps it was that you missed how the soft blanket complimented the feathery cushion of the right armchair. 

Any of these excuses could be suited to explain how you rushed through the town, determined, goal-oriented and passing down streets now ingrained in your memory, with a destination clear in mind.

But it definitely couldn't be how dearly you missed the sound of his voice when he read to you or his smile or the way he studied the waves with gentle affection. No, it couldn't be that.

Either way, you arrived at the base of the lighthouse. It had been a week since your first visit and you hoped that the invitation still stood for your return. Making your way through the empty room felt quick since you hadn't wasted time to notice how the table now had a vase of flowers in the center. Nor did you notice the new mat placed in front of the interior doorway to the lighthouse.

Your heart dropped from your chest when you reached over to the door knob only to find it was locked. You turned the handle back and forth as if that would miraculously function as a key to unlock the door. After a bit of knob fiddling had proven itself useless, you turned away with a huff of air releasing your frustration. 

The click and turn of the handle had you twirling around optimistically and seeing him made all that disappointment dissolve. 

“You’re back again.” He was smiling at you, then cocked his head to say come in. The moment you stepped into the lighthouse, its lackluster disappeared as if by magic. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t magic at all; it was the person that hid their umbrella, and asked him to read and promised to return as much as he promised to let you return.

“I believe you promised to keep reading to me.” 

“Did I?” The reasons for your return weren’t all that important to discuss, both you and him were just glad to make your way up the stairs to the two armchairs once more, hearts both racing not because of the physical exertion from the stairs but from the excitement rasping through yours and his bodies.

“Yes, but this time I won’t fall asleep.” 

“We’ll see about that.” There was no question that your intense focus wasn’t because you cared about the book he had been reading. In all honesty, you would not be able to summarize any bit of the plot if someone asked. You probably would have a hard time even naming the author of the book because what sank you into the words on the pages wasn’t the story itself, but the voice that read them. Jungkook made those languid paragraphs sound like the first words ever to be spoken; he reinvented the English language through his unique dialect, inflections and phrasing that had the words of Homer dancing off the pages. So, of course there was no question that you wouldn’t be able to name any of the characters or recognize the writing style of Homer because those details faded away, leaving only the memory of his voice with you.

This time, Jungkook didn’t have to offer you a seat. He made it clear that this spot had been reserved and waiting for you by the way the blanket had been folded and worn by the arm of the chair and the new pillow resting at the base of the chair’s backrest. You planted yourself on the cushion that felt more plump than the last time you sat in it and faced towards the large window that showcased the ocean’s energetic swaying.

“I would never get tired of this view.” You commented while Jungkook pulled back the curtains further to widen the seascape. He too was drawn to the deep blue waters making their way to and from the shore. 

“I usually don’t leave the windows this open, but my love for the scenery of the ocean has rekindled.” When he said this, your eyes hadn’t budged from the window unlike Jungkook’s that peered over to you. You pretended not to notice that or the way your heartbeat had taken a quickness that had your skin growing warmer. 

“How could it leave in the first place?”

“It is well known, especially by you, that having an abundance of something lessens your appreciation for it.” A corner of your lips lifted at this, knowing exactly what he had been referring to. Each wave passed by and in a comatose-like state, you wondered where on the shore it would land.

“No need to call me out already, Jungkook.” He had left the window and retrieved The Odyssey that hadn’t left the side table since the night he read it to you. This broke your trance, and you shifted to face the left armchair.

“You made it too easy, ___.”

“Okay, Hermit.” Your smile did wonders to ease the irritation in Jungkook’s chest to tenderness. Though he refused to admit it, this otherwise taunting nickname sounded affectionate coming from you.

“Technically a hermit is-”

“Technically, I don’t care about your technicalities. No amount of facts will persuade me that you aren’t a Hermit.” Jungkook dug his tongue into the side of his cheek to resist from joining in with your laughter. He’d been fidgeting with the book that was waiting to be read, but neither of you seemed to mind putting that off.

“Ho- How was your day?” You shouldn’t have felt as proud as you did for making a man who could read aloud for hours stutter over his own words, and nonetheless you were extremely flattered by this.

“It was good.” Good never really meant good, and Jungkook knew this.

“And what’s the truth?” Your playing field had once again been unleveled, the advantage returned into the palm of Jungkook’s hand in the blink of an eye. His perceptiveness had been bordering on annoying but still remained on the side of impressive.

“Well,” You bunched the blanket in your fists as an expression of worry, “My mom called today.” Anyone who could hear would be able to tell you sounded unhappy about that.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jungkook articulated his question to get the answer he’d been looking for, finding the hostility in your voice far more interesting than the actual conversation between you and your mom.

“You don’t know my mom, but she projects her over achieving personality onto almost everyone she meets, but most of it goes onto me.” Your back had straightened when mentioning your mom, almost as if it were a reflex, like Pavlov’s dog, that you were conditioned to be on guard at the thought of her. “I don’t know why I get so mad at her when she does that because I know it comes from a place of love.”

Jungkook hummed softly, granting you space to continue talking. 

“Yeah, it probably comes from a place of love but part of me doesn’t believe that. Part of me thinks every time she calls to check on me it’s really just a ploy for her to nag me on what I could be doing better.” You scoffed as the conversation from earlier in the morning played out in your head again. Envisioning the back and forth between you and your mother only fueled your frustration but you couldn’t help yourself. There was no stifling the seething anger imploding before Jungkook’s eyes. “She always says stuff like, ‘Maybe if you applied yourself more you would be doing better than this.’ or ‘I told you that you should have done this or that and now it’s too late’ or the infamous ‘Do you not care about your future?’ lecture that just gets under my skin. She’s so good at saying the wrong things at the wrong time. I don’t know how she does it but she always manages to rub dirt in the wound.” 

“So, she’s never satisfied with you?” Jungkook observed.

“No, never! And you’d think a mother would be supportive or happy with all the things her child had already accomplished but somehow it’s never enough. And she knows what she’s doing. That makes it worse. She knows how she weaponizes my guilt against me.” You held your tongue from the much longer rant about to digress, feeling a sudden discomfort in the way you’d been complaining to Jungkook. You couldn’t understand why it was all too easy to talk of these kinds of things to him, why he looked so interested in what you were saying even when anyone else would have grown tired of you by now, why you found in him a warm confidant much more comforting than you’d expected, yet there was no way to dismiss this reality.

Jungkook did not offer advice, or tell you that you should be thankful or that maybe you were handling these situations poorly. He did none of that. His silence was more thoughtful than any number of things he could have said. He simply listened. 

You rose from the chair to get a closer view of the sea. Past your reflection in the glass, the consecutive tides seemed to grapple over the next and the next; the previous wave always just short of reach to tackle the immediate wave. He had followed you without a word, living up to your desire to have him at your side. There was no need for mindless comments or condolences to fill the silence, only mindful amity, at your side, because watching the ocean with you was enough.

“So, that was my day.” It was the first thing spoken after a period of quiet, perfectly timed and delivered for it to bear a dry humor in its intention. Jungkook and you laughed, finding this the long needed release of tension in your head. 

“Is this going to become a habitual thing?”

“What’s that?” 

“Me complaining to you about my personal struggles that would have gone in my journal or somewhere far more private than this.” All said while your and Jungkook’s gazes didn’t wander from the view of the window. “Me inviting myself into your lighthouse, or not-lighthouse, whatever.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Two heads turned towards each other almost as if it were on que.

The way your pupils dilated and softened conveyed every bit of thanks you held in your heart but couldn’t muster the courage to voice. Jungkook’s doe-eyed smile thanked you likewise and confessed the gratitude for how you had rescued him from yet another lonesome afternoon with a curtained window, an unused blanket, an empty chair, and a melancholic silence as he read his one of thousands of books. Not including The Odyssey, that was for your ears only.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.” His tease succeeded to provoke that smile of yours. And even though that was a favor on his end, he was the one that felt graced by it. Realistically, a smile costs nothing yet there grew an enormous debt in his heart; and even though he couldn’t afford it, all he could do was bask in every detail your smile, of the crease of your eyes, and of the way your cheeks took the form of a sweet Spring Peach, and the scrunch of your nose and brows. Before he sank himself deeper in debt, Jungkook beckoned for the two of you to return to your seats and read all your worries away.

---

Who would have guessed that The Odyssey, of all things, would be the thing that would occupy most of your Fridays through the rest of the winter? Sometimes you visited a Sunday, and other times you’d find yourself needing to hear The Odyssey on a Wednesday evening or a Monday morning. The days on which you swung by the now familiar lighthouse would vary, but they remained a weekly occurrence. 

Jungkook had grown comfortable with this routine, reading to you while you watched him and the waves, but mostly him. Occasionally, his reading would cease to an interruption of his own doing to ask how your day was in a very specific way that only Jungkook seemed to exhibit. He’d ask you say anything but ‘good’ or ‘boring’ and he’d clarify that he wanted you to not leave out any details. 

“Why?” You would ask. And he’d look at you as if you set yourself on fire.

“It’s important to me.” He’d reply as if it were that simple, or the answer you were looking for. Still, if it was important to him you didn’t need any more persuading.

Like when you told him you stopped by a coffee shop, he’d tell you to specify which drink you ordered and how it tasted. 

“Cinnamon.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“No, I prefer peppermint but sometimes I combine those flavors and that becomes my other favorite.”

“That sounds sweet.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It makes my insides feel like Christmas.”

“Is Christmas a feeling?”

“It is to me!” He smiled at your childlike enthusiasm because it made life seem a lot more appealing than he’d ever believed. Before you, the world was a little greyer. After you, suddenly full of vibrance, saturated to the grandest extents.

Or the time you brought a candle to fill the air with something a bit more pleasant than the smell of the old, wet stones of the lighthouse.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a candle, vanilla and patchouli.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don’t remember. I just found it in my house and thought this place needed something sweet.”

“But you’re here.” Your teeth bit down on your tongue when he said this. You almost fallen trapped in figuring out what motivated him to say this, but the flattery of his comment was all too pleasing to ignore.

“But I don’t smell like vanilla and patchouli.” You said, only to save face from the fact that you suddenly felt like a deer in headlights when he looked at you, bracing for when he would crash into you and hoping to god you can absorb the exhilaration of souls colliding; and hoping to god he would crash into you.

“Could you light it, then?”

“Of course.”

And the room filled with a sweetness that complimented your company finely. Now, whenever he would smell the scents of vanilla and patchouli he would think of you, and you of him.

He would continue asking these simple questions, and so on.

Why he thought it was essential for you to relay these almost invaluable intricacies was beyond you, but it did make you feel heard; it made you feel held as it always did. It made the value of your life gone without the need to be earned or proven, the value of the smaller moments that fell between bigger moments. 

It made it all okay that you felt like you stripped the clothes from your whole life off for him to revere and that he’d rarely ever display such emotional nudity for you; you were okay with lying bare before his eyes, vulnerable and pliant to his every whim. Even when you wanted to know all of these things about Jungkook and he’d hold them captive or he’d only offer half sufficient answers, you collected as many bits of the puzzle as possible to try and piece together his story.

“How are your parents, Jungkook?”

“Long gone.”

“Oh, Jungkook… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I watched them grow old and content and that softened the blow.” 

“Are you lonely?”

Yes, it’s excruciating when you are not here. I am tormented in your absence and all too plagued with despondency and I wish you knew that.

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“So you have.”

“So I have.”

You did not want him to be lonely; you didn’t want him to ever be sad but you wanted him to be able to say that he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you he was lonely; you wanted him to want you to know his heart. You wanted him to feel as naked as you felt. Vagueness was all you could ever manage to arrest from his gated mind. 

And for once, the little he had given was more than you could ever ask for.

Sunday mornings with Jungkook were your favorite. The ocean was tame during this time on Sundays specifically and sailed you into its calmness; you were half asleep, resting on the sill running along the base of the window panes. Spring had been approaching which meant there were radiant glimmers of the early sun that reflected and glided along the ripples of the waves. Jungkook once said that every time he looked at these little pieces of diamond rays, he believed the sun and the sea performed in devotion for you and him alone. 

“I love that.” And indeed you did. The idea that no one else witnessed this ocean, not this one, not the way you and Jungkook had, was a greedy disposition but felt so true.

“Would you like me to read?” He said in place of, Is my voice properly fitting for something as lovely as this moment?

“I want you to talk, but not of books.” You blinked slowly at Jungkook, “Could you tell me about yourself? Just one thing, anything you choose.” He saw those specks of diamonds glimmering in your irises. He felt so close to you, sitting on the other end of the window, and close enough to finally surrender a bit of his gated mind.

“When I was a child, I knew my days were numbered. The details of why aren’t important, but I digress.” You stuffed a scoff down your throat at the assertion that the details weren’t important. Him, of all people, claiming the details were unimportant had you whirling in a paradox. “With this in mind, I did my best to fulfill everything any child would have wanted. And I don’t think I’ve ever stopped because that list of desires was never ending.” 

Was this what he meant when he said he was in my position once? You wondered.

“I spent all my time looking for the next best thing I could achieve, because the best things that I had was, as you know, never enough. One week, the best thing would be finding a four leaf clover to give to my mother. The next, it was being the first in line for the new, long awaited comic book. Or, it was the time my father took me fishing on the lake, and then seconds after it was the first fish I caught and threw back into the water, and that best thing was soon replaced by my father’s proud smile.”

Your throat tightened as you visualized a young Jungkook sitting on the dock with his father, full of youth and excitement, and how nostalgia had ripened into your heart even though you had no place in this memory of his. This dream-like sequence had compelled a few tears to fill your eyes, fogging your vision of the older Jungkook that sat before you. 

“When I grew older, in my adolescent and teenage years, the next best thing was fulfilling a newfound passion. It prompted me to buy out almost the entire library and major in World Literature. I spent the rest of my days from then on immersed in reading, as you can see. It was the only place I felt like I was achieving the next best thing, and it was cruel when I came to realize there was no way in hell I could finish all the books I’d collected in time.”

“In time for what?”

“In time... for the next best thing to come along, I guess.” This answer appeared fabricated, but was subtle enough to pass through your mind without a second thought. 

“And did it? Did it come along?”

It would have made no difference if your question had been asked to a brick wall because Jungkook brushed it off as he did every other question that would have given you another piece of his puzzle. He took precautions to avoid a defeat to your pouting by walking over to the left armchair and burying his face in the book’s fortitude. Before you had the chance to reiterate your question, Jungkook began to read, making it all too clear he was evading.

“Jungkook?” You whined to which he paid no mind by continuing to read.

“Is he being serious right now?” Again, you might as well have been talking to an inanimate object. There was nothing to be done when he lodged his restraint other than joining him in your armchair, quietly, permissively.

Every day, like this one, spent with him had you convinced it couldn’t be surpassed in enjoyment. And every day, your expectations had been exceeded. That was something you’d never think could happen. Soon, the cares and worries of this Winter melted as the avenue of Spring had unfolded before you. A long path, surrounded with flower blossoms and diamond coated seas, or in other words, the unfathomable had fallen into your hands.

The remainder of this pleasant Sunday had been consumed by The Odyssey and Jungkook’s voice singing its words as smoothly as the waves surrounding the lighthouse and small conversations during the pauses of his reading. One struck you into reminiscence of the first night you met.

“You never answered my question.” He paused, flipping through the many unanswered questions he’d left with you. Jungkook raised his brow to order specification of which one you referred to.

“What makes us human?” The due date of your essay passed over two months ago, however this didn’t diminish your curiosity to know his answer.

“In all honesty,” He paused and looked to assure you would believe his answer would be honest, or honest enough to cater your satisfaction. “I think it’s our desire to achieve the last best thing.”

Every fiber in you compiled its own list of questions in regards to his yet again ambiguous answer, though you had grown to accept that as a part of Jungkook. And you sure as hell accepted Jungkook, ambiguity and all.

“Hm.” It didn’t take a mind reader to know you had theorized any and all connotations branching off from his answer and he didn’t mind that you could be lost in search of whatever the actual meaning of it was. 

The moon was in its fullest bloom tonight, and tomorrow, it would begin to wane into a crescent then into nothing but an empty space full of new and perhaps fortunate opportunities. Jungkook found the romance of this lunar phase well equipped for the dusty instrument he discovered in the base of the lighthouse. 

“I found something that I think you’d like.” Your ears perked like a dog when it’d been presented with treats. “But you have to go get it. It’s in the other room.”

Whatever this surprise was, it had excited you enough to ignore how you’d have to descend and re-ascend the many stairs that would surely tire you. Your eager legs would have jumped right from the platform to the bottom of the lighthouse if the reality didn’t result in broken bones. As you rushed to the door to the other room, you pushed through and discovered a telescope standing in the corner of the otherwise empty space. A few moments later you were hustling back up the stairs, the telescope making the re-ascension of the stairs ten times as strenuous. All the while, Jungkook just stared in amusement at the way you struggled your way to the platform.

“No, I don’t want any help, thank you!” You said sarcastically through grunts of exertion before positioning the instrument in front of the window.

“Well, I didn’t offer you any, so, you’re very welcome.” He stood on the other side of the telescope, admiring the way you fell so easily in love with it, hands scaling the length of the scope.

“Do I just?” You pointed to the eyepiece at the end of the rod and he nodded. You brought your eye to the magnifying glass which was flooded with the enchanting glow of the stars. You’d never seen them this close, but this little gift of Jungkook’s had catapulted you into the illuminated abyss of the night sky. A measly woah was all that squeaked from your voice, because all the other words were stolen by the stars.

“Can you find any constellations?” He’d seen all the stars in the galaxy; that he was sure of. But none had shone brighter than the person he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Three o’clock had crept onto the antique clock, this late hour had worn down Jungkook’s walls completely as the soft glow of adornment laminated his eyes. 

“I think I see ORion's belt. That’s the only one I know other than the Big Dipper.” You laughed at your own lack of knowledge of the stars. Knowledge didn’t seem to matter though, the beauty of the stardusted sky had taken care of that deficiency. You lifted yourself away from the telescope, allowing Jungkook a turn to stargaze.

“Have you heard of the Astral Plane?” Jungkook asking you something other than, ‘how was your day’, was a rare occurrence which most likely meant this was of some importance.

“I’ve heard of it, but I think I’ll need you to refresh my memory.” You really did need clarification on what exactly the Astral Plane entailed, though you mainly just wanted to hear him explain it. 

“Some say it lies in the fourth dimension. It isn’t tangible or something that can be touched. It lies between everything, every atom, every cell, every city and forest and mountain and even between the crevasses of one’s own mind and soul. A place like this is full of divinity and complete attainment and the way it is reached has been theorized by many.” Jungkook’s meticulous readjustments of the telescope had you wondering which constellations he was searching for, or maybe he’d been looking for Venus or Mars or the Moon. “Some say you arrive there in your dreams, or when you reach enlightenment, or when death draws its curtain on you…  I-I don't know why but I’ve always thought that it was stitched into the sky. Far beyond our galaxy, maybe the Astral Plane has situated itself in between each star, just like it does our souls, and exists as the vastness of outer space.” It turned out he wasn't looking for any of those things, he was looking for the Astral Plane.

Could the heat rising throughout your body be merely adoration, or was it something along the lines of a forlorn longing? When he spoke, you felt this sensation growing dense in your bones; you felt a gravitation towards him.

“Seems about right to me.” Fondness had stained your tone which filled some void in Jungkook’s hungry heart, and he’d failed to predict you were the one that would be able to settle it. “Maybe we’ll never reach the Astral Plane, but at least I’m here with you.”

When you said this, the hairs on his arms pointed towards the ceiling. For once in a very, very long time, Jungkook felt a euphoric resurgence striking through the catacombs of his soul and hot tears dripping down the expanse of his cheeks, to the tip of his chin, and onto the glass scope that was shielding this sudden emotional combustion. He blinked away the tears to the best of his abilities and turned away from you and the telescope and the sky. Jungkook felt the push of air from your movement towards him, but he shifted further away. 

“Are yo-”

“I found a cluster of stardust, go look.” He averted you from him and you always fell victim to every trick in his book. 

“Wow, that’s amazing!” The grip you had on the telescope was firm, like you were trying to hold onto the stars themselves.

“Amazing.” He said. This reiteration wasn’t for the stars, however. He wondered if you knew that. He wondered if you could feel how consumed he was by your magnificence under the full moon that reigned with gentleness over the waves. The once wild tides, now moving with the same serenity and romance embedded into Jungkook and this lighthouse. He wondered if you could see he had been emotionally disrobed and bearing all his affection for you. And he wondered how he was so okay with that.

Six o’clock didn’t feel like six o’clock. Your eyes that struggled to keep open told you otherwise, so again you and him were parting ways as the sun had begun dawning over the horizon and there were no more stars to fill the hours slipping away. Jungkook did all he could to compose himself. He’d offered to walk you out; you reached the door that led to the dewy, Spring air awaiting your departure from the lighthouse.

“Wait, ___!” This exclamation echoed louder than the beating of his crimson heart. After stepping through the threshold, you turned to meet his gaze, teary-eyed from what you guessed was from lack of sleep. Teary-eyed from what he knew was because of another egregious goodbye. “Thank you.”

This moment seemed fitting to test the theory that actions speak louder than words. This moment called for the lapse of courage in need to act, not speak. This moment was the moment when you finally expressed the thankfulness that, to you, seemed to outweigh his by pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It was much colder than your lips and the docile warmth of the morning, but once you pulled away the warmth had stained his cheek. 

Jungkook felt like every cell in his body was evaporating into the space around him. Like the way a fire would extend its heat into the air or the way Spring melted away the frost ridden Winter, your act had covered him in a blanket of love and refuge from the loneliness once vaulting his heart. And it certainly spoke louder than words; all the words in every book Jungkook had ever read and the words left unsaid and the words passing between everyone in the universe.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Hermit! You helped me see Orion’s Belt up close and personal!” You called as your strides began a slow fleet from a laughing Jungkook. You waved, now standing a generous distance from him, and he found this gave him the space needed to finally let his tears fall. 

“I love you.” He whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to your ears and heart.

A revelation had overcome him, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe the tears away, they’d be instantly replenished like a stream of water rushing from a conquered dam, spilling over endlessly, with all control suspended in the air around him.

Was it finally here? The last, best thing?

---

A week after the stargazing, your mind had mapped out the stars as you too searched for that Astral Plane. To you, Jungkook’s proposition of it being strewn in the night sky was the only theoretical that made sense. You wanted to flaunt your newfound passion for this concept he’d introduced, and admittedly - and more importantly - you wanted to kiss him again, leading to yet another blissful walk down the seashore to the lighthouse. The air was warm but not humid, carrying a breeze that evened out the sun’s heat nicely. A few pillows of clouds were cascading through the sky, never staying in one spot for too long; you’d come to appreciate each one’s temporary presence and when they passed, you grew to appreciate that as well. The gaze once fixed on the sand had now traveled to the waves of much gentler motion than ever before. 

This walk, unlike the dozens of others, felt different. The streets looked lovely and the air felt clean in your chest, giving you a pleasant journey far more intimate than the last. Then you realized, it felt like you were walking back home.

When you grew closer to the lighthouse, you noticed the curtains had been drawn which was strikingly unusual for a sunny day such as this one. This was a passing observation as you made your way to the base of the lighthouse. 

Through the door to the room before the lighthouse, you were taken aback to find your armchair sitting in front of the table. you walked up to discover a single, folded parchment sealed with a red wax stamp labeled with your name along the top of the paper.

This felt eerie, for some reason, and you called out his name only to be met with silence, before sitting yourself down and unsealing the note.

It read in his voice:

My Dearest, ___

I wrote this to relay a lot of things left unsaid. The first being goodbye. I’m sorry to have to leave you like this, though no amount of remorse could possibly appease my actions.

Your heartbeat had grown rampant, until your eyes read those words. It was then when it stopped altogether. Still, you continued to read.

I kept things from you like the fact that our encounter in the town’s square was all but coincidental. The truth is scary, and my truth would have turned you away from the beginning. It was selfish, I admit, but I do not think I could have endured such a loss. Forgive me for keeping you in the dark all this time, but I am beyond gratified for what you granted me in spite of that.

Maybe it might seem cruel. You are not alone in feeling that — never alone. But, we were never meant to spend every Sunday morning, or Friday evening, or Wednesday afternoon together to watch the waves float along with the hours lost reading to you; I knew this was not the end of your story, just mine. 

The books I have read over and over have imprisoned me in search of the “next best thing”. To my dismay, I thought I had run out of time to find it. But then you came along. You helped set me free by allowing me to live out a few more “best things” through the way you shared your life with me, unselfishly, warmly, kindly— You helped me move on.

I know you too will move on from this. I hope I could at least leave you with the tools and courage to find each “next best thing” in store. If not that, then this lighthouse, open to you and only you, and a myriad of good memories to ease our parting. I know in my heart you deserve nothing less.

I hope you find contentment somewhere in the sea or on the sand or in the stars, or perhaps somewhere in between.

Once you do, we will meet again within the Astral Plane, my love. I swear it. And if you miss me, just look through the telescope and find me woven in the spaces amidst Orion’s Belt.

Thank you. Again and again I thank you and it is still not enough. Thank you for you, for your warmth, for your salvation, for your smile, for your endless questions, for re-introducing me to the aroma of vanilla and patchouli but it was not as sweet as your companionship, for putting good use of the right armchair and the view from our window, for making the odyssey a little less lonely to read, and thank you for stepping into my lighthouse and my life.

Don't you see, it was you. You were my last, best thing.

with love and sorrow,

Jeon Jungkook

Before you got to the end of the letter, you were racing up the spiraling stairs, ignoring the burn in your tightened chest, how the air in the lighthouse had suffocated your lungs. The dizziness that blurred your eyes had not slowed your climb up the stairs, and the wetness of your tears now seeping into his letter.

You reached the top, The Odyssey greeting you on the chair Jungkook would have been seated in. Your breaths were staggered and warm, filling the mournful emptiness of the lighthouse. 

“Jungkook.” You whispered. You begged for a reply. The curtains were drawn over the window, like never before, and exposed a bronze plaque peeking out from the end of the fabric. You pushed the drapes aside to read what was engraved into the metal plate and the first page of The Odyssey that hung below it.

In loving memory of our beloved son, Jeon Jungkook. May he rest in peace. 1918-1942.

The note below read: 

The Odyssey

Jeon and ___ Lighthouse.

You pieced the puzzle together, finally. And with that, came the final picture, so beautiful and mesmerizing and everything you could have ever hoped for, and more.

“Jungkook.” You repeated as a bid of farewell, with a heart full of satisfaction and content, and Jungkook. You pressed the letter to your chest in hopes his words would mend your aching heart. 

And it was true, he was not your last best thing, only one of them. 

But he was undoubtedly your most cherished and beloved best thing.

#bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts #bts imagines #bts writing #bts scenarios #bts one shot #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts au #jungkook strangers to lovers #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #the lighthouse #rubycoast #reader x jungkook #jungkook fluff

[handmaiden-of-varda]

Grief

Pairing: Éomer x fem! reader

Summary: You and Éomer were betrothed, but when you discovered that you were dying from a poisoned wound, you decided leaving him would be best

Warning: Angst. Lots and lots of angst. Arguing. Stubborness. Bittersweet ending. Character death

A/N: Are you looking to torture yourself with a long, angsty fic? Then this is for you. I'm sorry folks, I just had to write this. Things had been really tough, and whenever I got depressed I would write sad stuff because my heart needs to be broken more. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

Pain. It was all you could feel after you woke up. You sat up with a groan, feeling as if your whole body was on fire.

"(Y/N)? Are you alright?"

You glanced at Aragorn, who were watching you from his spot by the bedside with a concerned expression.

"I'm fine, Aragorn. You need not worry about me."

He didn't look convinced however. "It's the pain again isn't it? Do you need more herbs to reduce the pain?"

You sighed. There was no point hiding it from him, he was the one who treated your wound afterall.

"It's alright, truly. I know there's no cure for this, so I might as well get used to it."

"You don't know that! Do not lose hope, (Y/N)."

"I would not lose hope if there was one to begin with. Even Lord Elrond could do nothing about it. I am simply being realistic." You argued.

"So you would rather bear the pain for the rest of your days? To have us watch you suffer?"

"What else can I do?"

He went silent for a while. "What about Éomer? Don't you think he deserve to know?"

It was your turn to fall silent. You and Éomer were courting before you left to join the fellowship. None of you knew for sure if you were going to meet again, so when he discovered that you were alive after the Battle of Helm's Deep, he asked for your hand in marriage and you vowed to remain by his side.

But that didn't last long. You had taken a poisoned arrow for him during the last battle, which weakened your body significantly despite all the efforts made to treat you. Unfortunately, the poison had spread and you didn't have long to live. Only Lord Elrond, Aragorn and Gandalf knew of your real condition.

"He doesn't need to know," you paused. "No, he cannot know. I will not let him be burdened by me."

"What are you going to do?"

"I need to leave."

Aragorn's eyes widened in disbelief. "Leave? Leave - surely you don't mean that?"

"Yes, Aragorn. I mean it," you said. "I do not regret saving him - I would gladly do it again in a heartbeat, but I also cannot let him live his life knowing the consequence of my action. He has just ascended the throne, and given my condition, I am no longer fit to be his wife."

"And what of the consequence, should you leave?" He asked quietly.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep your tears from spilling. It broke your heart to even consider this, and you knew it would break him too, but you decided it was for the best. You were dying. You loved him too much to let him suffer much worse than a broken promise.

"I would rather have him hate me, than for him to live with the grief of my passing."

"Even if that meant spending your life away from everyone who care about you?"

"Even then." By doing this, you thought you would also spare them from having to watch you pass away.

Aragorn finally relented. He wished you weren't so stubborn, that you wouldn't make such a painful decision alone. From what he knew of Éomer, he was certain the young king loved you just as much that he wouldn't leave you to face it all alone. Being one of your closest friends, however, Aragorn was fully aware that nothing he could do would sway you once you made up your mind.

He sighed. "Do you know where you will go?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. I admit this... is all too sudden, but I will find a way."

"Have you really thought about this? He needs you now more than ever."

"I have. And I need him too, but I have to do this for us."

He nodded. "You are in no condition to make a long trip. Go to Lossarnach. It is a safe and beautiful place not far from here. I will arrange everything. Will you at least say goodbye to the others?"

"Don't worry, I will."

"Very well. I do not condone this, (Y/N), but I will honor your wish. I hope you are right - that this is for the best."

"Thank you, Aragorn."

. . .

Éomer was furious. He did not understand why you would go, leaving nothing but a letter behind, after everything you had been through and after your vows. Did you not mean what you have said?

In the letter, you wrote that you wouldn't be able to fulfill your promise, that you were leaving and that you were sorry. No explanation, nothing.

He spent days racking his brain, trying to think what could possibly be the reason behind your departure. He knew you were wounded from the battle, having pushed him out of harm's way, and he had stayed in Gondor after Aragorn's coronation to accompany you while you were unconscious. But lately he had been busy with his duties as the new King of Rohan, and when he finally received the news of you regaining consciousness, you were already gone.

And it finally dawned on him - Aragorn must know something. So with a newfound hope, he sought out the other king.

As he stood before the entrance of the council room, he could hear voices from inside. He was about to turn to leave when he heard your name being mentioned, so he decided to linger.

"So she left just like that?" He knew that voice. Gimli.

"You read her letter, Master Dwarf." Aragorn said.

"Yes, yes but that didn't explain why she didn't say it to us directly!"

"She has her... difficulties."

"What is so difficult about saying goodbye to your own friends in person? Do we mean nothing at all to her? You better explain everything now, Aragorn, if you still see me as your companion."

Éomer found himself agreeing with the dwarf. But he would not reveal himself, not yet.

He heard Aragorn sigh.

"You put me in a tight spot, Gimli. You are a dear friend of mine, of course, but if I tell you then everything we have done would be in vain."

"Oh, so you play a part in her departure? I cannot believe this. Fine, if you're not going to tell then I will leave as well."

"Wait!" Aragorn exclaimed. "Very well. I will tell you, but for her sake please do keep this information to yourself."

"I'm listening."

"You know that she was wounded during the battle, right?" A pause. "Well, the arrow that pierced her was poisoned, and we were too late. The poison has entered her system and weakened her body, and there has been no cure to clear out the strange, deadly poison. I'm afraid she doesn't have much longer. She knew this. So she decided to spend the remainder of her days away, to spare us from having to watch her die."

"You mean to tell me (Y/N) is dying?? And you let her go, just like that?"

"Lower your voice, Gimli."

When Éomer heard this, his heart sank. He couldn't breathe. You were dying. You were dying because of him, and he had been oblivious, even accused you. He didn't care anymore as he barged into the room, surprising both Aragorn and Gimli.

"Where is she now?" He demanded.

Aragorn pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You heard us."

Normally, Éomer would be ashamed of himself for eavesdropping. But right now, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Yes, Aragorn, where is she now?" Gimli urged.

Aragorn sighed. "She is in Lossarnach, in Imloth Melui. I have assigned a handmaid and a healer to look after her." I'm sorry (Y/N).

With the speed of light, Éomer ran out of the room to ready his horse. By noon he was already galloping towards Lossarnach, his heart beating faster and he hoped he would find you before it was too late.

. . .

You let out a small smile as you painted the beautiful scenery before you. The sun was beginning to cascade, tracing the sky with warm hues of pink, blue and orange. Flowers of every kind and colour scattered around the hill, swaying lightly in the gentle breeze. It was serene, yet it did nothing to dull the pain in your body. You felt a pang in your heart as you thought about your friends, about him, and you put down your brush.

"My lady?" Your handmaid asked beside you.

"I'm done for the day."

She nodded, gathering your supplies and leading you back to your house. Aragorn had given you a nice place to live, and you couldn't thank him enough for his help despite not agreeing with your actions. You sighed.

"I would like to walk alone." Before she could protest, you added, "I shall not be far. I just wish to clear out my head."

"Very well, my lady."

You walked slowly across the hill and to the bridge that overlooked a waterfall. You gazed sadly towards the sky and closed your eyes. You could hear footsteps coming your way, but you paid them no heed.

"I believe you owe me an explanation."

You went still. You recognized the voice.

Slowly, you turned your body to look at the owner of the voice. If your heart hadn't been broken already, it would've shattered to pieces when you saw the hurt in his face. He must've known then.

"Éomer," you breathed.

He walked closer to you. "Do you think so little of me?"

"I'm sorry - I... I know I am being stubborn, childish even. But I need to do this."

"Then explain to me, why did you do this? To me, to your friends? Do we mean naught to you? Do I mean nothing?"

"You mean everything to me, Éomer. This is why I didn't want you know that I'm dying."

"I will find a cure. There must be something-"

"Éomer," you cut him off. "It's alright. Don't bother. I have made my peace with it."

"But I have not!" He snapped. "I'm sorry. I... I wish it would have been me instead and not you."

"This was my choice," you whispered sadly. "I do not regret it."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why do you have to do this? Why did you choose to leave?"

"You don't understand, Éomer. I'm dying. I cannot fulfill my duties as your wife, as your Queen. I cannot help you with your burdens, I cannot carry an heir for you. And I certainly cannot let you watch me die," your voice broke as you held back a sob. "The kingdom is recovering. They need you now more than ever, and they need a strong Queen to rule by your side. I am not she. And I even if I was, the people couldn't afford another loss. Not so soon." I don't want you to mourn for me.

"So you thought leaving was the best." He said quietly.

Your head bowed down. He moved swiftly to cup your face, wiping the lone tear that escaped your eye with his thumb.

"We did not go through so much for you to say that. You know that I love you for you, and I care not for all those things. If you could choose to save me, if you could choose to leave, then I can choose to stay and face it with you, no matter the consequences. Just - just let me take care of you. Please." His eyes were pleading. "I would rather spend my whole life missing you but knowing that you were surrounded with love and joy in your last moments, than to live in regret for letting you suffer alone."

"But what of the people? Rohan needs you, Rohan needs her Queen."

He took your hands in his. "You are already a Queen in their eyes, my love. The people love you, and they have choosen you. They remember everything you have done for them, for Rohan. They know that there will be no King of Rohan if it wasn't for you. You have done your duties, and they will expect nothing more from you. We will face everything with you, together."

"Then so be it."

. . .

You could feel your time was approaching near, but you were not afraid. As Éomer promised, you had spent the remainder of your days in bliss, surrounded by your loved ones.

You had returned to Minas Tirith before continuing your way to Edoras, your home. To your surprise, your friends understood why you did what you did even though it pained them, some even accompanied you in Edoras. And true to his word, the people accepted you regardless of your condition. Of course, you still helped whenever you could, and they took a great care of you. Everything was going well.

"Éomer?"

He hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you both laid down on the bed. "Yes, darling?"

"Can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything for you, my love."

"Promise me that you will move on and be happy."

He looked down at you with sorrow. He was painfully aware of what was going on, and he tried his best to fight his tears. "I cannot."

"You told me you would do anything," you mumbled. Your eyelids grew heavy and breathing had become difficult, but you needed to hear it from him.

"I cannot lie to you, (Y/N). I will live well, this I can promise you. But there shall be no other, for you are the only one for me and it will remain so until we are reunited again. Will you... will you wait for me?"

"If there is another life beyond death, I will wait for you." You gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Éomer. For everything."

You pressed your lips to his for the last time.

And with that, you closed your eyes as your soul left your body, bringing his heart with you to the afterlife.

Masterlist

#eomer x reader #eomer fanfic #eomer fanfiction #eomer imagine #eomer #lotr x reader #lotr reader insert #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #middle earth x reader #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien reader insert #angst #eomer x you #lotr

[chelsfic]

I Fell into Fantasy - Nandor x Guillermo One-Shot

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Guillermo admits to a secret desire. Nandor tries to fulfill it without compromising his aloofness. 

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song called “Days of the Phoenix” by AFI. I was inspired to write this fic by the scene in the movie where Viago talks about how he likes to make things “nice” for his victims during their final moments.

Warnings: Blood drinking, a bit of smut, frottage, pining, angst

---

Guillermo really should know better.

How many nights has he spent digging up the garden to dispose of the mangled corpses left behind after the vampires’ feasting? How many bruised, torn throats has he seen? Cracked collar bones and broken limbs? Lifeless, staring eyes? 

He knows the victims are in pain before they die. He knows the vampires sometimes like to play with their food, chasing tearful virgins through the house, giving them a taste of escape before tucking into their meal. He knows it hurts. He knows it isn’t sexy.

Really. He knows.

He’s still jealous. He’s jealous when he shows up to yet another sad familiar mixer to find that nearly every other human in attendance has faded puncture wounds and he has to hide his smooth, pristine throat with a turtleneck sweater. He’s jealous when he’s forced to stand in the corner and listen to his master’s obscene, tantalizing moans as he drinks from some random human who isn’t him. He’s jealous when Nandor remarks on how tasty a victim is, licking his lips before discarding their lifeless forms like so much garbage.

He knows it’s wrong. But he gave up caring about right and wrong a long time ago, around the time he dug his first clandestine grave.

He’s wanted to be bitten ever since he was 13-years-old and he first watched Lestat turn Louis on the 18-inch TV in his bedroom. He’d paused the movie, rewinding and frantically beating off as the blood poured onto Brad Pitt’s lips.  He wants to know what his master’s lips would feel like on the tender hollow of his throat. He wants to feel the scratch of his beard as he closes his mouth over Guillermo’s sensitive skin. He wants Nandor to hold him close. He wants to feel those sensual moans rumble through the vampire’s chest as he takes his fill.

He wants so much.

Whenever he feels jealousy, lust, longing... he reminds himself that he should feel grateful, proud even, that Nandor has never fed from him. Nandor sees him as more than a meal. He’s a trusty companion, a person, a...friend? This is what Guillermo tells himself. He knows it’s not a matter of taste. How many times has Nandor scolded him for looking too tempting when he blushes? Or warned him to be careful with his sword collection because he didn’t want him bleeding all over the place and testing his self-control? 

Whatever his reasoning--respect, boundaries, taboo--Nandor doesn’t feed on his familiar. But Guillermo often wonders if things would be different if his master knew how badly he wanted it.

---

“Guillermo, you’re very serious tonight. Are you having to take a human shit? I can wait until after for you to do the tucking in…” 

Nandor stands by his open coffin with an uncomfortable smile on his face that’s akin to a grimace. Guillermo has already helped him remove his outer layers and brushed out his flowing, dark hair. All that remains is for the familiar to hold his hand while he steps up into his coffin.

“No, master, I--I don’t have to take a shit. I’m fine,” Guillermo murmurs with sadness practically oozing out of his pores.

Nandor bristles, his eyes darting all over the room as he wars with himself over whether to press further or simply to ignore Guillermo’s stupid human moods and hope they go away.

The vampire sighs dramatically, “I think you better tell me what is the matter, Guillermo. I don’t want this affecting your work performance. You do a very poor job dusting the paintings and the window dresses when you’re sad. Now what is it? Laszlo and Nadja? Are they giving the guff to you?”

Guillermo is quiet for a long moment, looking up into his master’s fathomless brown eyes as he decides how to respond. Nandor’s whole body is tense as if he’s awaiting the guillotine blade. Maybe he should just get it out of his system and finally admit--well, certainly not everything he feels for his beloved master, but at least about his deep desire to be bitten. 

He blushes, lowering his gaze as he finally answers, “I guess...I’m just a little jealous. Of...of the people you feed from.”

Nandor’s face drops into blank befuddlement before his dark brows lift upward and his lips curl in a poorly concealed smile.

“You’re jealous of my victims? I kill those people! You want me to murder you? Is this some kind of death wish thing? Because I find that really annoying!” Nandor sputters, half amused and half serious.

Guillermo’s face is burning with humiliation now and he rushes to clarify, “No! No, I don’t want to die, master. It’s just...I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be bitten by a vampire...”

His voice fades to nothingness but Nandor clearly understands him and his face grows pensive as he contemplates his words.

“Are you bullshitting me?” Nandor questions and his tone is just close enough to irritation to cause Guillermo to shrink in on himself as he answers.

“No, master.”

“Well…” Nandor sighs and affects a look of disinterest. “It’s alright to say that sort of thing to me, Guillermo, because you’re my familiar. But you want to be careful out there with the other vampires. You could get eaten up! And then where would I be? Having to make another ad on the Greg’s List!”

“...Craigslist…”

“As I said!” Nandor snaps, holding out his hand expectantly as he moves to get into his coffin. “Now, that’s enough of this crazy talking. Alright?”

“Alright, master,” Guillermo murmurs subserviently, reaching up to release the lid and slowly lowering it, sealing his master inside. 

“Goodnight, Guillermo!” Nandor’s muffled voice calls as the familiar moves around the room, blowing out candles.

“Night, master!”

Sealed in the claustrophobic darkness of his coffin, Nandor’s mind races as he tries to process this new information about his familiar. Guillermo--his little Guillermo!--would let him bite him and drink his delicious blood? No, he wants him to do it. Yearns for it. He is jealous of the people he kills just because they get to feel the sting of his fangs and the touch of his lips. Nandor palms himself through his trousers. He’s harder than he’s been in a century just thinking of it.

---

He tries, he really does. Guillermo tries to forget about his shameful admission and go back to normal. Nandor certainly seems unmoved, doing nothing to even hint that he remembers having the conversation. So, Guillermo goes through the motions, dutifully completing his chores, searching for fresh sources of virgin blood, and standing by while Nandor sates his bloodlust with perfect strangers. But now that he’s revealed his secret--part of his secret, let’s be honest--and faced his master’s outright rejection, he just can’t seem to let go of the hollow ache in his chest.

He feels inadequate, pathetic, unattractive. And sad. Mostly sad.

Guillermo might think that Nandor has forgotten all about their little chat, but the vampire dwells on it just as much as the human does in the days that follow. And it’s impossible to ignore the scent of “sad human” that’s begun to permeate the household. Nandor spends several days battling with himself over what to do. He considers killing Guillermo and starting over with a new familiar… Guillermo gets his wish, Nandor doesn’t have to confront his shameful attraction to his servant… everybody wins! But the thought of Guillermo’s sweet little face gone still and lifeless sends a foreign stab of emotion into his chest that is really unpleasant.

He could ignore the situation and hope for it to go away on its own. But now that he knows his familiar is secretly lusting after his bite, he can’t get it out of his mind. He’d avoided feeding from Guillermo for years. At first it was a matter of preserving a valuable asset. Guillermo is a good familiar, why risk slipping up and accidentally draining him? After a while, when Nandor started to fixate on his familiar’s adorable smiles, fantasizing about how his soft, little body would feel against his...then it became a matter of self-control and rejecting his disgusting, unnatural feelings for a... servant!

So, that leaves him with one option. He must feed from Guillermo...carefully. So, so carefully so as not to be overcome and either kill or ravish the poor fellow. And if he is going to bite his Guillermo, then he must make it a pleasant experience for his familiar. He can’t stomach the idea of simply ripping into his human and hearing him scream and cry with the pain of it. No, it has to be...special.

---

Guillermo is barely in the door, laden down with shopping bags, when his master’s voice calls to him.

“Guillermo! Is that you?”

“Yes, master! I’m back from the store. I got you some more of those bath bombs you like,” Guillermo answers, wrestling with the bags as he edges towards his room. “Is there something--?”

Nandor appears at his side and interrupts, “The one with the lavender? Very good, Guillermo. Ehm--why don’t you put down those satchels and come with me to my room for a moment. I have a surprise for you.”

Guillermo’s face lights up with a warm smile and he drops the bags on the floor by his closet-room, “A surprise? For me, master?”

“Just for you, Guillermo! Come!” Nandor practically skips at his side as they walk back to his room, his eyes lit with anticipation.

Nandor closes and locks the door behind them, watching his familiar take in the arrangements he’s made. He borrowed Laszlo’s gramophone and set it up in the corner. It’s playing a soft, quiet melody that floats gently on the incense-infused air. A vase of vivid red roses sits on an end table next to his fancy couch, which he’s covered in a layer of bath towels. 

“What...what is all this, master?” Guillermo breathes, walking up to the flowers and burying his nose in the fragrant blooms with a smile on his lips. 

“Do you like it, Guillermo? I wanted it to be--” he pulls a face but manages to get the word out “--nice for you.”

“But, why?”

Nandor steps up beside his familiar, towering over the smaller man. “I’m going to feed from you. If... if that is still something you are wanting.”

“Oh,” the word comes out on a shaky exhale and Guillermo feels his knees go weak. “I--yes, I still want...that. Thank you, master.”

Nandor smiles, baring his fangs and crinkling his eyes. Guillermo feels his heart do a flip in his chest and wonders, distractedly, if Nandor can hear his heartbeat. They’re standing so close. Guillermo could lean forward just a bit and they’d be touching. He looks up into Nandor’s eyes and finds them melted with warmth. His master has never gone through such an effort for him before. Guillermo feels like his heart could burst.

“You want to take a seat?” Nandor gestures to the towel covered couch and Guillermo snaps out of his daze.

He sinks down onto the cushions, running his hands appreciatively over the terry cloth, “This was clever, master.”

Nandor takes a seat beside him, close enough that their thighs brush together and Guillermo gulps. He’s brushed his master’s hair, helped him dress, helped him bathe for goodness sake, but he’s never felt as close to him as he does now.

“Are you comfort-a-ble, Guillermo?” Nandor asks, staring at his face with a hungry intensity. 

Guillermo locks eyes with him and he sees his master’s pupils dilate, his lips part to bare elongated fangs. He gasps out a quivering breath as he fights the waves of exhilaration, lust and fear in order to answer.

“Yes, it’s...very comfy, master. Very nice, thank you.”

“Good,” Nandor responds, his eyes flicking down to Guillermo’s collar. “Why don’t you remove your woolen garment and open your collar. I don’t want to spoil your nice clothes.”

Guillermo feels like he’s in a dream. Nandor is never this...considerate. His mind flashes back to every time he’s watched his master strike out at a victim unannounced, with fierce aggression and even cruelty. It’s pathetic that his standards are so low, but the fact that Nandor isn’t treating him like just another victim to be used and discarded sends a rush of affection and hope flowing through him. He hastily grabs the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. Next, he reaches for the collar of his shirt, but Nandor is there first. His long, thick fingers pluck at the buttons, releasing each one until Guillermo’s chest is visible. He pulls the collar aside, revealing the smooth, unblemished curve of Guillermo’s neck and shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Nandor asks with a hiss as he eyes his familiar’s naked skin. He’s never seen so much of the man before and he feels his cock stir with interest inside his trousers. 

“Yes,” Guillermo breathes needily, tilting his head to bare his neck even further. 

Nandor brings his hand up to cradle Guillermo’s head, letting his fingers sink into his soft curls and cupping his warm cheek in his palm. The pulse point at Guillermo’s throat is practically visible, his heart is beating so fast. Nandor feels his mouth flood with saliva as the rushing flow of Guillermo’s blood reaches his ears. 

He wraps his other arm around his familiar, drawing him onto his lap and finally leaning in to bury his face into the warm, inviting crook of his neck. Nandor breathes in the intoxicating aroma that even the human-things-for-smelling and his incense cannot obscure. He moans loudly. He might be embarrassed if he were less overcome with the sensory feast of his familiar’s soft body in his arms and the promise of his warm, thick blood.

Guillermo mewls at the touch of his master’s mouth on his bare throat. His beard is scratchy and rough but his lips are impossibly soft and gentle. It’s like a kiss, he thinks, his heart rushing with affection and joy. Nandor’s arm around him is firm and strong. He knows that he could never hope to escape if Nandor truly wished to restrain him and drink him dry. Putting this level of trust in his master makes him feel like a tiny, frail rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf. A delicious shiver runs down his spine at the image. And then Nandor’s lips pull back and he feels the sharp points of his fangs graze over tender skin.

“Oh!” Guillermo cries out. 

Nandor growls low in his throat but pulls back just slightly to check, “Is this still alright?”

Guillermo nods quickly, bringing up his hands to run them through Nandor’s soft hair reassuringly, “Yes! Yes! Please, master!”

He feels Nandor’s chest rumble with suppressed laughter and then there’s just the blinding, burning flash of pain that blooms as Nandor finally strikes, burying his fangs into his familiar’s soft, warm throat. Guillermo’s mouth falls open and his hands fist in Nandor’s hair as the first wave takes him. 

“Shhh,” Nandor murmurs wetly against his neck, lapping the spilled blood with long strokes of his tongue. “Shhh, you’re safe.”

“Nnghh!” a pleasured groan strangles from the familiar’s throat at the touch of his master’s tongue. Guillermo squirms, his cock filling even as blood drains away from his body. 

Nandor tightens his arms around his little Guillermo, pulling him flush against his broad chest and biting down once more as he begins to drink in earnest. He moans wantonly as the sweet blood fills his mouth. He’s as hard as he’s ever been and he rolls his hips against his familiar’s generous backside. He drinks and he drinks.

The pain ebbs enough for Guillermo to lose himself in the delicious feeling of connection with his master. His hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth are all on him, inside of him, part of him. Nandor’s touch unlocks a secret room inside of Guillermo where he keeps his most tender feelings. For once he allows himself to truly feel the devotion, the affection... the love that he has for his master. It’s wonderful and dizzying. Tears slip from his eyes as he reaches his arms around Nandor’s broad shoulders, hugging him closer for as long as he’ll allow.

Too soon he feels his head start to spin and his grip on Nandor’s shoulders loosens. The vampire senses it immediately and draws back with a feral growl. Guillermo is limp and breathless in his master’s arms. He looks up with heavy-lidded eyes and watches Nandor lick blood from his lurid, stained lips.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo whispers, snuggling into Nandor’s chest with a contented sigh. His arousal is flagging and he hopes that his master hasn’t noticed. He’d felt Nandor’s rigid erection grinding against him while the vampire drank his blood, but he has no way of knowing if that’s just something that happens every time he feeds. Whatever the case, he’s far too weak and drunk with happiness to do anything but drift along and hope that Nandor keeps holding him.

Nandor’s dead heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of his sleepy familiar burrowing his face into his chest. His plan seems to have failed. He’d wanted to give Guillermo his fantasy while remaining aloof, but instead he’s feeling an annoying rush of warm affection. Worse, he’s shamed himself by...rutting against the human like a street dog. He should push him away, or give him an order to remind him of the boundaries that are still in place. But as he looks down at the sweet smile on his familiar’s lips he can’t find it in him to spoil the moment for him so soon. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night he’d remind Guillermo of how things still stand between them.

“Will you keep holding me, master?” Guillermo mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. The human has read his thoughts!

“Yes,” Nandor replies, leaning down and tracing a barely there kiss onto Guillermo’s forehead. “For a little while.”

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fanfic #wwdits

[tonystarkbingo]

Our TSB party is still going, and here is one of the games we’ve had fun with so far!

Fic Titles Game

Glitter - suggested by @phoenixmetaphor3000

@huntress79 - Idea: Dum-E teams up with Steve (other Avengers optional) to bring some Christmas cheer to their favorite in-house Grinch (aka Tony XD)  Massive amounts of Glitter involved

@rebelmeg​ - tony kind of has an accidental thing for glitter. it's not his fault. the iron man suit has a glitz and glamour of its own, he's always told his eyes sparkle, and his favorite tie pin is that gaudy ruby one that pepper hates. he loves the stars, the way sunlight sparkles on the waves outside his malibu mansion, and he can't really be blamed when a tiny speck of glitter under a certain someone's eye catches his attention one december day.

@psychiccatpanda - Clint refills DUM-E's fire extinguisher with purple and silver glitter as revenge for Tony making Clint's most recent armor change to red and gold with body heat. Hijinks ensue.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Decorating the Christmas tree, the Avengers get into an argument over who is responsible for the missing tinsel. Half an hour later they find it, in a tangled web draped all over Dum-e. He objects strenuously to its removal, but eventually concedes to their assistance in rearranging the strands so he can still move.

@huntress79 - The Avengers are invited to a Charity gala, but they have to wear costumes that are NOT their usual ones. And of course, Tony can't resist an opportunity to rile up a certain Captain, just a little bit. Best way to do so: a dare, in this case who wears the most glittery costume. But what Tony didn't expect was that Steve comes up with his own counterdare... (author's choice ;))

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - It's pride, so there was bound to be some glitter floating around, it was inevitable. But this much? Someone was obviously being irresponsible with glitter and needs to be given a warning for the good of the world (and the Tower's cleaning bots). Tony follows the trail of glitter... all the way to Steve's room? Does this mean that Tony's crush on Steve actually stood a chance of being more than just a crush.

@ralsbecket - It was Steve's first Father's Day being Morgan's step-dad, and Tony helps her with cooking breakfast in bed and sprinkling red, white, and blue glitter on a handmade card (not particularly in that order). Steve still finds glitter everywhere weeks later.

@rebelmeg​ - i can't art very well, but i want art of the aftermath of tony opening a glitter bomb that rhodey left out for him

@huntress79 - (Stony) - During a mission in space, Tony and Steve are stranded on a planet, with no immediate way to get back. After a while, they encounter tiny little beings who introduce themselves as fairies. But while they can't fulfill their wish to get home (for whatever reasons), they might be inclined to use their glittery fairy dust for something else… (could also be used for a crossover with Hook/Peter Pan)

@rebelmeg (with some inspirational help from @dreaminglypeach) - tony coming home with glitter all over his suit and looking super smug, and everyone IMMEDIATELY assumes strippers. but of course it's gotta something completely different and silly.  like... he wandered through the christmas department at the store and slipped on something and ended up sprawled on the glitter strewn floor

 @yesmooshoe - Tony is somehow de-aged to around 5. The Avengers do their best to take care of him while they figure out what to do, but don't keep a constant eye on him. Tony likes all of his new friends though and wants to do something special for them, so he acquires a bunch of glitter and glue (maybe jarvis helps? maybe thor likes crafting? fuck knows.) Tony proceeds to embellish everyone's stuff - glitter all of steve's shield, thor's hammer, glitter all over Clint's arrows (which really throws off the balance but he can't be mad), and even a weird-looking red and yellow robot suit. When Tony is finally returned to normal he's upset with his younger self for how haphazardly he glued all the glitter to his suit, because it could have looked super cool if done well.

Collaborative effort that started with strippers and then went off the rails

Glitter lube

Scratchy, what a terrible idea

oh my god but imagine shitting out glitter

Edible glitter

Edible glitter on cakes

Edible glitter exiting the human body

So many glitter poop jokes and anecdotes

@ralsbecket - The Avengers are forced undercover for a mission to catch a villain red-handed, and this villain just so happens to work from the basement of a strip-club. Tony draws the short straw, but at least he can choose his own stripper name.

@lbibliophile-mcu - He's sure it looks very pretty. Gentle waves ruffling the surface of the bay. Each strand of grass on the dunes lined in perfect crystals of frost. Dawn sun painting the sky pink. And right there is the problem: dawn sun. It is far too early to have to deal with all these stray rays of light stabbing through his eyes.

(More under the cut!)

Vices - suggested by @ralsbecket

@huntress79 - (Stony) - Steve's a hard working cop on the vice, Tony's his "favorite" frequent delinquent (aka Tony's a bit of a bad boy who usually gets arrested by Steve, for rather minor things, but Tony can't shut up when Steve's around, so it's more for his talking than anything else) (Steve, of course, can be replaced by any other character, whatever floats your boat XD)

@rebelmeg - tony kicked a lot of these habits a long time ago. it's been ages since he's been high, or slept around, or partied until he literally dropped. but around this time in december, he's allowed a few of his other vices. his need for near-constant touch and attention. drinking. staying up to keep the nightmares away, and being coaxed to bed when he's so exhausted he's asleep before his head eats the pillow. eating all the food he loves that aren't that great for him. it's okay, though. this time of year, he's allowed.

@lbibliophile - "... This is not the worst thing you've caught me doing." And it was in that moment - confronted by the picture he made trapped in the grip of supposedly-helpful machinery - that Tony decided he really needed to prioritise a better way of getting the suit on and off.

@rebelmeg - some kind of profile art with the arc reactor depicted as one half of a vice clamped on tony's chest

@dreaminglypeach - vices: DUM-E was only trying to help squishy-dad with his work. He didn’t mean to get his hand stuck in a vice. If only sky-dad would stop chastising him and call for help…

@Magicadraconia16 - Dum-E does not understand why everyone keeps saying that vices are bad. They're very helpful tools! He loves the one that Tony gave him for his very own. He can show everyone, then they'll see! If only he can get it off of U's arm, first…

@huntress79 - Knowing that Tony will fall back to some of his old vices as soon as December rolls around, the whole Tower teams up to keep him from doing so (can be gen aka Avengers as a family, or end with your favorite partner for Tones)

@psychiccatpanda - [potential WinterIron] Bucky has been researching everyone on the team and it seems like the media has nothing better to do than to gossip about Tony Stark's vices - women, booze, and expensive cars mostly. The trashier gossip bloggers openly speculated on what (or who) Tony's latest mistake would be. When Bucky gives Tony a judgmental look after he's returned from being out (much longer than the hour Stark had said he'd be gone), Tony frowns. The bag clanks like metal. What the hell had Tony meant when he'd said he needed to 'go pick up some new vices'?? ((hint - it's actual vices. It always takes longer at Home Depot or any hardware store because Tony has to look at everything before he leaves!))

@tehroserose - [Stony] Steve had only one vice. Well, two, but they were related. He loved watching Tony's backside, and he loved getting him angry. The genius was so alive when he was angry, and then he was treated to a wonderful view of the amazing backside. Bucky was about ready to smack him upside the head for his kindergarten way of having a crush.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Before the serum there was a lot of things Steve couldn't experience, whether it was because of his conditions or lack of money. Steve's favourite thing about the 21st Century is all the foods and flavours. Being able to eat things he couldn't eat before. Being able to taste things he wouldn't've been able to taste before. Steve spends his military back-pay on food and treats... a part of him burns at the idea of spending his money this way, there were more beneficial things he could be doing with it... But he can't help himself, especially when some flavours taste like euphoria. Tony notices and decides to indulge in Steve's vices.

@huntress79 - (potential HawkIron) For the longest time, Clint always had to choose before a mission between wearing the team comms and his hearing aids, otherwise his ears felt like being in a vice. SHIELD didn't see it as a necessity to equip him with better things, but once he joins the Avengers, and Tony notices the obvious problem, things start to look up for the resident archer....

@huntress79 - Ever since he got free of the programming and came to live at the Tower, Bucky's been doing repairs on his metal arm on his own. But after a mission, putting his arm in a vice and working with the fine tools isn't the easiest thing to do. And Buck's too proud to ask anyone for help, be it Steve or anyone else. Good thing that he can't stop JARVIS alerting Tony to that particular problem... (can be friendship/mending bridges between them, or WinterIron)

5 Times Tony Stark was a Terrible Cook, Plus 1 That One Time He Finally Ordered a Pizza - suggested by @yesmooshoe

@tehroserose - Tony/Others, Tony/Rhodey end. Tony has always tried to cook for his dates. He wants to impress them. Problem is, he can't cook. And too many people just want the Stark money and lie and say it is good. Or they're too afraid/intimidated to tell the truth. Later, much later, he realizes they aren't good for him. Then there's Rhodey, who's never afraid to tell Tony that his cooking sucks... and then, after the last relationship ended, this time when the white lie was out of care, Rhodey again tells Tony his food sucks, let's get pizza. And they kiss, over the pizza.

@rebelmeg - first it was cookies. cookies burnt to a crisp that even ana jarvis couldn't salvage. second was spaghetti, so mushy and overcooked that rhodey couldn't stop laughing even when tony threatened to throw his enormously thick math textbook at him. third was that whole "raw in the middle" chicken incident that happy still won't let him live down, and fourth was the disastrous omelet for pepper. fifth was morgan's 1st birthday cake, and thank heaven's pepper was wise enough to ignore him and order a backup. this time, he's just gonna order a pizza.

@huntress79 - Tony The Cook: The Jarvises tried, Mama Rhodes as well, but for all his genius, Tony can't figure out a cooking recipe. Nonetheless, he tried to impress several various dates with his cooking skills. Needless to say that none of these attempts (both cooking and dating) ended well. Then, he meets Steve, a guy who doesn't care at all what they eat, as long as they eat together. And so, Tony orders pizza for their date…

@Magicadraconia16 - It's an unfortunate historical fact that Tony cannot cook to save his life (hmm, there's an idea for the next HYDRA kidnapping...). Rhodey's meal was burnt to unidentifiable cinders (seriously, even Tony doesn't know what it was supposed to be); Pepper's gave her an allergic reaction; Natasha chipped a tooth; Hulk came out and threw Bruce's food out of the (closed!!) window; and Steve got food poisoning. Steve!!! So when Bucky turns up in his workshop one day, Tony decides to selflessly save everyone from a hangry Winter Soldier and just orders pizza, instead.

@ralsbecket - 5 + 1 Pizza: Tony Stark was many things. He was a genius, he was a billionaire, he was a playboy, he was a philanthropist. The thing he was decidedly not was a good cook. It was one burnt omelet too many before Pepper begged him to just order out. The person delivering his pizza was... attractive. If he started ordering pizza on Fridays at 6PM every week for a month, that was nobody's business.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony just wants to offer a fancy home-made anniversary dinner. It's not so much that Tony is a terrible cook, but that something (or several somethings) always go wrong. His significant other's flight was delayed. He gets distracted by a minor crisis half way through cooking. He tries to prepare beforehand, but forgets to label it before leaving it in the common fridge. Had a mistranslated recipe or the wrong measuring spoons. Dum-e tried to 'help' while he was distracted. The next year, his SO requests that they just order pizza to eat cuddled on the couch.

@psychiccatpanda - Single dad Tony tries to do it all. He feels terrible about the amount of time his three kids (all under the age of 5) spend in daycare, but college will be expensive, so he works -and works. But he tries to make the after-work before-bed moments really count. Sometimes his carefully planned dinners don't work out. Monday, the slow cooker wasn't plugged in and their chicken and potato dish spoiled for being on the counter for almost 13 hours unrefrigerated. Tuesday they were out of bread and ate PBJ on the last three hot dog buns. Wednesday, he thought dinner was fine, but Peter declared it was 'too spicy' and so none of the kids would eat it. Thursday he burned the chicken nuggets in the oven because he had to help the kids with their baths, and Friday? Well no one was gonna talk about that again. Saturday Tony's ready to cry because he's pretty sure Morgan is coming down with something. So he orders pizza. When the pizza delivery guy arrives, holding Morgan, she barfs all down Tony's back. Pizza delivery driver yanks the pizza away and asks if he can come in to set it down in the kitchen, then helps out with the kids while Tony takes a shower.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - It was meant to be romantic, cooking for a date. But with Tony it was definitely not romantic. Cooking for Rumiko he managed to burn everything, yet have the food still raw. Firefighters had to be called when he set his dorm alight cooking for Janet. Ty needed to have his stomach pumped after Tony's cooking (how was he to know what was too much alcohol, wasn't it meant to burn off?). Indries had stomach problems for weeks after Tony cooked for her. And he managed to poison Pepper... Needless to say, Tony wasn't a good cook... So when he scores a date with Steve Rogers, he thinks "why bother try? Steve is too good for me anyway", there was no way they were going to last. So he orders a pizza. Steve is relieved when he sees the pizza. He had been hoping Tony would pick something down to earth, worried he wouldn't know how to eat whatever posh food Tony put in front of him and make a fool of himself. Steve admits he doesn't know how to cook either. Maybe Captain America isn't so perfect. Maybe... Maybe this could work out. Him and Steve

@huntress79 - Of all the people, Tony has probably the most irregular eating rhythm. He has been known to try and cook for himself, but the results are less than stellar. So, one by one, each of the Avengers try to cook for him, until Steve joins him in the workshop with a small stash of pizzas…

@lbibliophile-mcu - It was all Steve Rogers' fault. Him and his insistence on 'team dinners' to 'promote bonding' and 'improve cohesion'. Not that Tony necessarily objects to the dinners - pending his schedule - but Steve seems to have this odd conviction that having home-cooked food is a necessary part of the ritual, and none of them can change his mind. Natasha tried logic. Clint tried begging. Bruce, he's pretty sure, is sneaking in pre-made food and just cooking the final steps. Thor thinks it's a great idea... but is always for some reason back on Asgard on his nights. But Tony is a genius, so he decides on a different approach. He grumbles a little bit, but otherwise doesn't complain when it's his night to cook. He cooks... and watches as each of the Avengers gives up on choking down the barely-edible meal. The next time he is rostered, the scene repeats. And the next. And the next. By the sixth time he is due to be cooking dinner, Steve comes up to him and politely - but pointedly - suggests that maybe they just order pizza. Tony thinks of the several meals worth of tasty leftovers hidden in the penthouse fridge, and graciously acquiesces.

I hope Thistle cheer you up - by @darthbloodorange

@rebelmeg - it was the pun war to end all pun wars. and it was probably going to end all of them. clint was fine, he loved puns almost as much as he loved pizza. steve hated puns so much he had taken up swearing. tony took sadistic glee in saving his worst puns for when steve was around. nat was famous for using the most clever of puns at unexpected moments. bucky could deadpan a pun so seriously it always took them by surprise. thor was terrible at it, still grasping the nuances of american english, but he sure tried hard. bruce tolerated it all and made half-hearted attempts at participation, though chuckling at his own puns was usually funnier than the puns. sam loved making puns, but hated it when other people did. it started creeping into other areas of their life, onto social media, in interviews, and at one point hawkeye was trending for awhile after he screamed out "THISTLE CHEER YOU UP!" whilst battling some kind of plant monster. tony helped, because he retweeted with the comment, "ooh, talk dirt to me."

@ralsbecket -  So what if Tony had gotten laid off? So what if Tony had a mountain of bills sitting on his dining table? The only thing that mattered to him in that moment was his baby girl Morgan, with her hair falling out of the ponytail and her cute little lisp. She'd come back in from the backyard with a handful of dandelions, saying, "I hope thistle cheer you up, Daddy" so sweetly that for just a moment, everything was okay again.

@psychiccatpanda - [IronHawk] Tony's been working on the reams of paperwork that he's put off for SI. He's still not sure why it all needs to be done before the end of the quarter, but here he was. Needless to say, Tony Stark has been in a foul mood the whole week. The snide comments he usually keeps to himself have started to slip out and he feels guilty on top of the grouchy, so he decides to barricade himself in his office. He falls asleep on a sheaf of papers and wakes up with the impression of little ridges of paper on his cheek. It takes a moment (he hasn't been asleep that long) for him to fully realize the plant in front of him was real. An aloe plant - with a plate of chocolate muffins, fruit, cheese, and nuts. A post-it on the aloe's pot read, 'I hope thistle cheer you up,' written with a purple felt tip pen., which meant either Clint had left it - or Natasha pretending to be Clint.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Bruce looks at Tony, then back down at the spiny dried flowerhead in his hands.

"I know that you were getting frustrated trying to find these for your new fibre arts project, so I decided to help." His eyes light up as he realises the pun. "Thistle cheer you up!"

Bruce sighs even as he smiles.

"Tony... I appreciate the thought, but as you said, this is a thistle. I need a teasel."

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Tony really doesn't like his neighbour Justin. The man was always trying to find ways to report him to the local council. Mailbox too close to driveway? Reported! Weeds in his lawn? Reported! Fence too high? Reported! Didn't clean his pool that weekend? Reported! Lawn too long? Reported! It was ridiculous. But the council won't do anything because taking action against someone who's reported you (even if the reports were false) is apparently considered wrong and vindictive. There was nothing Tony could do but grit his teeth and bear it. One day Tony receives a box in the mail, addressed from his neighbour across the street. The handsome blond guy with the body of a Greek god and a garden that looked like a literal paradise. Steve Rogers. Tony wasn't too shy to admit (to himself) that he had a crush on the man. He eagerly tears into the box to find a small note and a lots of little bags of mulch wrapped in tissue paper. The note reads: "Tony, I've heard you be having some trouble. I hope thistle cheer you up. After the rain comes flowers. Ps. Throw these over Justin's fence." And so he does. Watching Justin battle all the weeds after it rains brings Tony so much joy. Especially when Justine reports him to the council and the council shrugs him off this time. He heads over to Steve with some home cooked food as a thank you gift and they get talking. Turns out Steve is an Environmental activist with a passion for guerrilla gardening. Tony is hooked. Maybe it has more to to with Steve then the revenge on Justin (as sweet as it was)

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