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sergeantbarnessdoll · 3 months

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Got My Doll Back » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: Bucky gets his wife back after thinking that she was dead for years.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of past memories & trauma, fighting, crying, kissing, pet names (doll)

A/N: Y/N has the same powers as Wanda.

A/N #2: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping find the first aesthetic picture🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“These 4 people are your mission. Get these 3 out of the way.” Pierce shows you pictures of Captain America, the Falcon, and Black Widow. “And bring the Winter Soldier back to us alive. Understand?” He says, showing you a picture of the Winter Soldier.

“I understand, sir.” You reply.

Alarms at the base you’re at went off, along with a flashing red light in the room. Pierce went to the security system to see four people walking through the hallways of the base separately. Pierce chuckles and smirks before turning to face you.

“This mission may be easier than we thought. Go to the south end of the base and bring the Winter Soldier to the room.” He tells you.

You nodded and headed towards the door. An agent opened it for you. You headed to the south side of the base. Your walk was cut short when you heard a woman’s voice. You turned around to see a woman with red hair and wearing a black mission suit, one of your targets. She rose one of her arms, getting ready to shoot one of her widow bites at you. Your powers glowed red in your right hand, along with your eyes glowing red. She began to walk towards you, but you used your powers to throw her against the wall, making her groan in pain when she landed on the floor. You ran away from her before she could get up and get you.

“Rogers, Barnes, Wilson. There’s a woman wearing all black with a red jacket is going to the south side of the base. She’s enhanced.” Natasha says into her ear piece.

“I’m on it!” Sam replies, running to the south side.

You rounded the corner to see your second target causing you to stop in your tracks, seeing a man standing across from you.

“I’m not about to fight a woman so let’s do this the easy way.” Sam says.

“That’s a shame.” You say, slightly tilting your head.

Your eyes turned red, along with a ball of red appearing in your hand. You threw it at him causing him to fall to the floor. You ran past him to find your other two targets.

“She’s going east now!” Sam says into his ear piece.

“I see her!” Bucky replies.

Bucky shoots at you. You quickly ducked to the floor to avoid the bullet. You chuckled and stood up with your back facing him.

“Got outsmarted by a woman, didn’t you, Soldat?” You say.

Bucky froze and his eyes went wide. The voice sounds all too familiar. It sounds like someone he knows. Someone from his past.

Steve rounded the corner and caught up to Bucky. He waved his hand in front of his face to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Bucky!” Steve shook him. “Did she do something to you?” He asks.

“N-No.” Bucky stutters.

Steve looks at you to see you facing away from him and Bucky.

“Turn around.” Steve orders.

Steve got his shield ready as you chuckled and turned around.

“You know, the last man who ordered me around, got thrown off of a building. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen to you, Captain.” You say, slowly turning around.

You looked up to see the two men with surprised looks on their faces. Bucky put his gun in the hostler and Steve lowered his shield.

“Oh my god.” Steve says, completely speechless.

“Y/N?” Bucky says with hopefulness in his voice.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head to the side.

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You say.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His wife from the 40s was standing a few feet away from him. He slowly approached you which was a mistake on his part cause the next thing he knew was being thrown into the wall. Steve threw his shield at you, but you stopped it with your powers. It fell to the floor in front of you.

“Listen here, Captain and Soldat, but I’m not who you guys think I am.” You say.

Bucky stood up from the ground in time to see your eyes glowing red and a red light glow in your hands, making his eyes to widen.

“I was given a mission and I need to finish it. I’m sure you can relate to that, Soldat.” You say.

Before you could use your powers on them, you felt shocks to the back of your neck causing your body to tense up and lose consciousness. Bucky was quick to catch you before you hit the floor.

“While you two were busy dilly dallying with her, me and Sam got the file.” Natasha says, holding up the file.

Bucky moved your hair from your face to get a closer look at your face causing his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to tear up.

“What did they do to you, doll?” Bucky asks, talking more to himself.

Sam and Natasha furrowed their eyebrows in confusion as they looked down at Bucky.

“Doll? Barnes, do you know this woman?” Natasha asks.

“He’ll explain later. We need to get out of here.” Steve says.

Bucky stood up with you in his arms and carried you to the quinjet, holding you like his life depends on it.

A couple hours later, you woke up in a room that you didn’t recognize. You looked around the room, gathering your surroundings. Your eyes landed on a man sleeping in a chair next to the bed you’re in.

“Hello?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky woke up immediately. A smile grew on his face when he seen that you’re awake.

“Thank god you’re awake.” Bucky says relieved.

He reaches to grab your hand, but you backed away from him. You felt yourself beginning to panic.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says in a reassuring voice.

You took a moment to yourself to think. You felt yourself starting to become overwhelmed, your breathing became uneven.

“Wh-Where am I?” You asked, looking around the room again.

“My apartment.” He tells you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down. That’s when memories flooded your brain. Visions of a man appeared in your mind. The man looks exactly like the man sitting next to you. You opened your eyes and looked at the man. There was a few different features about this man compared to the man in your vision. He has long hair, stubble, and a metal arm.

“I know you from somewhere, but I don’t know where.” You say.

“Take your time. It’ll come to you.” He says softly.

You took your time and thought. You kept thinking until your head started pounding by more memories flowing back into your mind. You put your hands on the sides of your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your back, but you didn’t move away. When your head stopped pounding, you opened your eyes and looked up at the man with tears in your eyes. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the man next to you is your husband.

“Bucky?” You say in almost a whisper.

“It’s me, doll. It’s your Bucky.” He says with a smile.

Tears spilled from your eyes as you hugs him. Bucky pulled you onto his lap, holding you close to him. His eyes teared up. Bucky never thought he would get the chance to see or hold his wife again.

“I missed you so much.” You cried against his chest.

“I missed you too, doll.” Bucky says, tears rolled down his cheeks.

You sniffled and looked up at your husband, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was told to—” Bucky silenced you with a kiss.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Bucky says, looking into your eyes.

“I-I blasted you with my powers.” You say.

“It wasn’t you, doll.” He says, cupping your cheeks.

You shivered when you felt cool metal against your skin.

“What happened to your left arm?” You asked with concern in your voice while looking at his metal arm.

Bucky didn’t want to upset with the details of how he really lost his left arm so he came up with a different way to tell you what happened.

“I got hurt years ago and when I woke up, I had this.” He explains, showing you his metal arm.

Bucky watched as you carefully touched it, watching as your fingers traced the plates of it.

“I’m sorry for hurting your friends with my powers.” You say, feeling ashamed for your actions.

“They’ll understand that it wasn’t you, doll.” Bucky says.

“I didn’t hurt Steve, did I?” You asked.

“No you didn’t.” He says.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that you didn’t hurt your best friend.

“Is it ok if I see Steve and meet your friends?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiles.

You got off the bed and followed closely behind Bucky while holding his hand as he led you to the living room where Steve, Sam, and Natasha are.

“Someone would like to see you guys.” Bucky says to them.

You slowly stepped out from behind Bucky and looked at everyone.

“Do you remember me?” Steve asks, trying his best not to overstep.

“How could I forget my best friend?” You say.

Steve smiles as you approached him to give him a hug. You looked at the two people standing next to him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you guys.” You tell them.

“It’s ok. We understand.” Sam says.

“Don’t worry about it.” Natasha says.

All of you talked for a while until you got tired and wanted to go to bed.

“I’m happy that I got my doll back.” Bucky says, making you smile.

You smiled and laid your head on his chest and played with his dog tags.

“I love you, Bucky.” You say sleepily.

“I love you too, doll.” He almost whispers. “Get some rest.” He says.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course I will. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” He says, leaning down and kissed you passionately.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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seungrem · 1 month

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Dick Grayson x Male!reader

‘Confidential’ ~*+

Masterlist - Part 1 of ??

summary: When reader and a friend fall victim to a scheme in Gotham, a cute cop (if that’s what he really is) takes reader in for protection. Waiting for the mystery regarding his friend’s disappearance to be uncovered, reader insists on helping the cop.

( overview: college student!reader, cop?grayson, Alessio Falcone = made up character, kidnapping, hero-canon-typical violence, a murder attempt, protective custody, and police. basically a plot intro, Batfam & Red Hood cameos )

emoji code:

🌿 ( long story & series - 5.1k words )

🧸 ( light fluff )

🫧 ( light angst )

☁️ ( stands for y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Sunlight gleamed through the trees above as ☁️ sat alone at a table, his computer buzzing softly. A gentle breeze brushed against his hoodie, cooling the boy in this unusually hot spring air.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused ☁️ to jump, him then noticing a man standing opposite to where he sat. The man placed his brown satchel onto the seat as ☁️ lowered his computer screen.

“Hello, are you ☁️?”

“Hello-oh...”

☁️ lifted his gaze from his computer to the man, looking him up and down. He was tall and handsome with long dark hair and blue eyes. His muscular build was visible through his blue shirt and black jacket. The boy assumed he was simply another student- a hot one at that.

“Oh? Are you not..”

“No, no- sorry. I am, what’s up?”

“I’ve been looking for you. Do you mind if I join you for a sec?” The man’s tone was soft, and his voice not too deep.

“Sure.” ☁️ responded, motioning him to sit. As the stranger sat, the boy stared expectantly at him.

The man reached into his jacket pocket, grabbing a golden badge and briefly holding it in front of ☁️’s face. He quickly placed the badge back into his pocket and then looked around.

“My name is Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick. I’m with the GCPD and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He paused. “You’re best-friends with Alessio Falcone, right?”

☁️ huffed, annoyed.

“Not really. And you’re the fourth cop who’s come up to me since he went missing. I already told-”

“I only have two interviews on file. Who’s the third one?” Dick said, pulling a tan folder from his bag. He opened it, looking through the pages.

“Tim.. something. I forgot the last name.”

“Drake?”

“Probably.”

Dick cursed under his breath, placing the file on the table.

“I need you to go over the events of last Friday again. Give me every detail.”

“I have a paper to write.” ☁️ said, getting agitated. He rolled his eyes, turning his attention from Dick to his laptop. Dick swiped the laptop away with quickness, closing it, and then placing it into his bag.

“I need you to take this seriously.”

☁️ exhaled. “Alessio and I were only school friends. He’s impulsive and stubborn, and I would be very surprised if he was still alive after two days.”

“He’s a Falcone, after all. So you two were only school friends? Nothing more?”

“Is that not what I said?”

“Play nice or I’m taking this home.” Dick said, tapping his bag.

☁️ sighed, intertwining his fingers and placing his hand in his lap.

- 2 days ago -

Roaring past ☁️ and Alessio, two black vans turned the corner in front of them.

“We’re getting farther from campus. Let’s head back.” ☁️ suggested, looking around at the cloudy sky above. Alessio pretended not to hear him, the two continuing down the sidewalk and turning the corner. Upon turning, the sidewalk came to an abrupt end, with a long path of grass in its place. The two vans parked far in the distance, in front of a seemingly abandoned black barn.

“I wanna see what they’re up to.” Alessio pushed his long brown hair from out of his eyes, him then looking over to ☁️. Alessio wore his signature gray polo-shirt with straight black pants and black loafers, his style making his rich lifestyle particularly obvious.

“That’s an easy way to get killed. We’re still in Gotham.” ☁️ responded as he stopped. Alessio noticed, him doing the same.

“We don’t need to get super close, I just wanna see what they bring inside.” Alessio smiled, gesturing ☁️ to continue forward. His watch reflected the little sunlight that came from the sky as he did so.

Only a few blocks away from Gotham City University, Alessio and ☁️ continued through the grass. The two passed the buildings beside them, a small field of trees now standing in between them and the barn. The road turned into a dirt path, with many thick trees shading each side of it.

“Stay behind the trees.” ☁️ instructed as the two creeped through the mini-forest.

Getting close enough to see what the people from the vans were exporting into the building, ☁️ noticed that the barn was much larger than it appeared. Alessio and ☁️ watched as metal suitcases were carefully lifted and brought inside by a few people at a time.

“What do you think are in them?” Alessio asked in a low tone, keeping his gaze on the small group.

“Drugs, probably. We should head back now.”

“We still have 20 minutes until class.”

“That’s not what I mean. We’ve gotten too close, and it looks like they’re leaving soon.”

The small group of people walked outside, talking loudly amongst themselves. ☁️ could only make out a few phrases, like “..that guy’s a total creep..” and “..what do you think he’s doing with..”

Alessio crept toward a tree that was closer to the group, standing behind it as he listened. ☁️ peaked over at him every few seconds, obviously worried.

After a few minutes, the vans roared down the dirt road and back onto the main one. Alessio hurried back to ☁️, squatting down beside him.

“There’s something weird going on in there.”

“We can just call the cops. I’m not going in there.”

“Well, I am. Be my lookout.”

☁️ grabbed Alessio’s arm, holding it stiffly.

“Alessio, I will NOT go in there if anything happens. Please, let’s report it and go back.”

☁️ doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he does remember freaking out after waiting for 25 minutes. He sent the boy 6 messages, and his battery was getting low.

An hour passed, and the clouds were getting darker. ☁️ called the cops, explaining what he had seen and how his friend wasn’t responding. He power-walked his way back to campus as suggested by the dispatcher on the phone, where he met with an officer.

“What do you mean you’re not going in there?! He could be hurt!” ☁️’s eye twitched as another cop pulled to the curb beside the two. The first cop leaned against his car, filling out a packet on a clipboard.

“That property actually belongs to someone, despite it looking abandoned. I’m making your report now, and then we’ll request an emergency warrant.”

“How long will it take?”

“A few hours to a day. This number will give you call with any updates we have of your friend.”

The officer handed ☁️ a small card with a number on it as the second officer approached them.

“It’s being handled.” The first officer stated as he turned to the second, the two then looking at ☁️.

“I’m going to speak to him privately for a moment, we’ll be right back.” The second cop said.

☁️ stood still as the two walked over to the other side of the car. He tried his best to listen in on their conversation, but he once again could only recall certain parts.

“Another missing..” and “could be related to..” with “I know that the warrant … granted, but..”

The boy waited impatiently for them to return, figuring their conversation was referring to the three other students who had also gone missing over the past week. The news spread like wildfire on campus, but the topic quickly faded out of circulation. The paranoia, however, lingered behind.

The officers walked back to where ☁️ stood.

“I’m going to put this in asap, if you have any concerns call the number on the card or the non-emergency number.” The first officer said, him then getting into his car.

“I know this is a tough situation. Do you need a ride home?” The second officer asked, watching as ☁️ looked down and nodded.

- 2 days later -

“Did they give you an update on the warrant?” Dick continued writing on his small notepad.

“Yes, they said it was approved and that they would send their tactical team in tomorrow morning. I’m just worried that it’s too late.”

“I’m not sure why they waited so long considering there’s been another two students missing since.” Dick placed his head into his fist, clearly thinking out loud. “It’s not a coincidence.”

“Whatever creep is in there probably has my friend..” ☁️ paused, his mouth becoming dry and his head pounding. “Are we done? I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Have you slept since then?”

☁️ was taken aback by the question, but looked up with a monotone gaze, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.” Dick muttered, him then grabbing the computer from his bag and placing it in front of ☁️.

“No need to be. Is that all?”

“No.”

☁️ exhaled again, hoping to make the cop go away with a harsh tone. “What more do you want?”

“Can you show me where that barn is?”

☁️ gave him a glare, becoming suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re a cop?”

“I showed you my badge, didn’t I?”

“You seem too young.”

“I’m in my early twenties, same as you. I’m only a year or two older.”

“Right..” ☁️ glanced around him. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Do you wanna find your friend or not?”

“I’m stopping here. You can see it down that path and behind the trees.” ☁️ turned to Dick, who walked into the middle of the empty road.

“Thank you. I’ll try to investigate tonight.”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to come back and see if I can find anything.”

“Alone?”

“Probably not.”

“Can I come with?”

Dick turned to the boy.

“Absolutely not.”

“But you’re going.”

“I’m a cop.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

☁️ turned around and walked back around the corner. Dick followed closely behind, choosing to stay silent. As the two walked down the sidewalks in silence, they crossed the street to the GCU. ☁️ stopped as he stepped onto the stone path and turned to Dick.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?”

“Nope. I don’t need another student going missing.” He responded, looking around. “You shouldn’t be alone around campus, anymore. Let me walk you back to your dorm.”

“How’d you know I dormed?”

“I read the report before I came.”

“So you had me re-explain everything even though you knew?” ☁️ scowled at Dick, which seemingly amused him.

“I had to make sure your story matched up with what you told the cops.”

“Hm..”

☁️ took a few steps away from Dick.

“I think I’ll be fine walking alone, I’ll see you tonight.”

“☁️, I’m serious. I shouldn’t have told you-”

“I need to find my friend. Please.” ☁️ turned his back to Dick and motioned him to follow, the two continuing down the path.

“It would be easier to scan the area if you had more people helping.”

“I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is. We don’t know what ‘creeps’ are in there, if they’re affiliated with a crime boss or villain, how many there are, and if your friend is even still inside.” Dick hesitated, continuing, “..I’m going to tell you something confidential, can you promise to not tell anyone?”

☁️ turned to him and nodded, Dick beginning upon observing the gesture.

“Carmine Falcone is livid, and he’s been sending his guys to the area to retrieve his son. From what I’ve heard, his guys have been going missing too. It’s not just students getting picked off. Anybody who’s in the area is… and I’m very surprised nobody’s come to get you yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering you pretty much exposed the operation to the police, I expected whoever was behind it to get at you next. To keep you quiet or.. you know.. Which is partially why I’ve come today.”

“You’re confusing me.” ☁️ groaned as the two passed a small group of students. Waiting for the group to gain some distance, ☁️ continued.

“Who are you? Actually.”

“I’m a private investigator. Pretty much a cop.”

“And who hired you?”

“Confidential.”

“Then I guess our conversation ends here. My dorm is down the block. If you find anything, please fine me again.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask for your number. For professional purposes, of course.”

“Oh, sure.” ☁️ smirked, taking Dick’s phone. After typing his number in, he handed the device back.

“Thanks.”

☁�� nodded, walking off. He felt Dick continue behind him, causing the boy to turn around.

“I told you I was fine from here.”

“I know, I just need to go back with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Precautionary measures.”

“For?”

“We’ll see.”

“Dick, I don’t think you need to-”

“I expect someone to be in your dorm. That’s why I insist on going with.”

“You mean my roommate?”

“Don’t you have your own room?”

“How do you know that?”

“Private investigator.”

☁️ huffed and nodded, turning around the corner toward a large beige building of gothic architecture. Dick walked in front of ☁️, opening the glass doors and waiting for him to step through. ☁️ smiled at the gesture, whispering his thanks to the man. Pulling out his student ID from his backpack, ☁️ approached the front desk with Dick not too far behind.

“Hello, this man is another cop. He’s going to inspect my room quickly.”

☁️ watched as Dick took his badge from out of his jacket pocket. He held it over the desk for the front desk lady to see, her then nodding in understanding.

“No problem, I’m just going to need to scan his ID.”

Dick pulled out his ID from his jean pocket, sliding it over to the lady. She took it and placed it over a small black box, it beeping only a second later. She handed the ID to Dick and smiled.

“All good.”

“Thanks.” Dick smiled, following ☁️ across the lobby and to the elevators. Their shoes tapped against the marble floors, ☁️ watching Dick look around from over his shoulder. The two stopped in front of the elevators as ☁️ tapped the button.

“Have you ever been inside this place?” ☁️ asked, Dick continuing to look around.

“Once when I was younger, so it’s been a while. My adopted dad went here and contributes to the school pretty often.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” ☁️ responded. The elevator beeped and opened, the two stepping inside.

The ride was quiet, with ☁️ keeping an eye on Dick. Dick noticed, breaking the silence as they finally had reached the sixth floor.

“Still don’t trust me?”

“That’s right.”

The two strolled down the hall, ☁️ recognizing a classmate he was friends with.

“☁️, hey!” She said, walking up to the two guys.

“Ah, hey. How’re you?”

“Good, how’re you? And who’s this cutie?” She whispered the last question, leaning into ☁️ while looking at Dick. Dick looked away as the two quickly conversed.

“Nobody, he’s just taking a quick look at my room.” He whispered back. The friend gave him a suggestive smirk, which made ☁️ shake his head.

“It’s not like that, he’s a cop.”

“How’d you pull a cop?”

“He’s just so full of charm.” Dick said sarcastically, nudging at ☁️’s arm. Though confused, ☁️ and his friend waved goodbye to each other as they parted ways. Dick and ☁️ continued down the hallway, Dick still gripping the boy’s arm.

“You don’t have to hold my arm anymore.”

“You pulled a cop, remember? Take responsibility.” Dick teased, though the boy smiled and rolled his eyes in response. He pulled away from Dick as he arrived to his door toward the end of the hallway.

“Here we are.” ☁️ said softly, grabbing his keycard from his backpack pocket. As he was about to slide it into the door lock, Dick stopped him.

“Wait, here’re the rules. I walk in first, and you stay three steps behind me. If someone’s in there, just stay back. I’ll take care of them.” Dick whispered, leaning into ☁️.

“You’re awfully confident. And paranoid.” ☁️ whispered back.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.”

☁️ blinked at the comment, ultimately ignoring it. He placed his card into the lock, allowing Dick step in first. ☁️ followed around three feet behind as the two tiptoed into the room. Dick placed his bag down, him then quickly opening the closet in the hallway, with nothing but a few pairs of shoes and jackets inside. He continued slowly, stopping in front of the bathroom door to the right- it slightly ajar. As Dick was about to push it open, a man jumped out and tackled him to the floor. ☁️ fell back in shock, crawling backwards.

Dick used his legs to toss the man off and behind him, quickly standing up. The man did the same, repeatedly lunging at Dick with a shiny object in his hand. Dick smoothly dodged the attacks, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling it, Dick then kneeing him in the stomach. With a swift punch to the temple, the man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Dick hurried back to ☁️, helping him stand up. He looked back, then holding his hand to his lips to keep him quiet. The two continued down the hallway into the tiny kitchen, there luckily being nobody there. Opening the last door down the hall, Dick walked into ☁️’s bedroom. ☁️ remained outside, staring at the unconscious man on the other side of the hall. He turned his attention back to Dick, who looked through his closet and then under his bed. Upon giving the ‘okay,’ he walked back over to ☁️.

“They only sent one goon. That’s rare.” Dick muttered before walking down the hall. ☁️ followed slowly behind him.

“I’m not gonna say I told you so. But..”

“I know, I know. Thank you.”

Dick nodded, walking into the bathroom and turning the light on. ☁️ waited outside again, Dick carrying a duffle bag out only a few seconds later.

“Assuming this isn’t yours?” Dick asked, ☁️ whispering a ‘no.’ He placed the bag beside the man on the floor, Dick then going through his satchel. The man on the floor now had an extremely apparent bruise on his temple, directly under his receding hairline. He wore a plain white tee with a few dirt marks on it, along with dark green cargo pants and big black boots.

Dick hurried to dig through his bag, him pulling a pair of handcuffs out and pushing the guy onto his stomach, handcuffing him. He then checked the guy’s pockets, finding an old smartphone and a walkie talkie. Dick placed both objects into his bag before turning to ☁️.

“Hurry and pack your stuff. You can’t stay here for a while.”

Dick had called the cops to take the intruder away as ☁️ followed the small group outside. The officers and Dick carried the man into a cop car, while ☁️ waited outside with a suitcase and his backpack.

Dick walked back to him, a pitiful expression across his face.

“I’m sorry that it has to be like this. It’ll only be until I crack this case.”

“I understand, but where am I going to go?”

“Do you have family in Gotham?”

“If I did I wouldn’t be dorming.”

“Oh, right… Wanna stay with me?”

“Not sure that I’d feel much safer with a mysterious private investigator.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got a family full of them. I also already told the officers that you said you would.”

☁️ pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh don’t give me that look. My family’s very nice.”

“I have no doubt about that. I just don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Oh stop, I’m inviting you.”

☁️ nodded. “Does this mean I can go with you tonight?”

“Still no. I have to make a few calls, just follow behind me.”

The two conversed as they continued through the campus, ☁️ trying to get some information out of Dick.

“So, do you know the cop I spoke to last night? Tim-something?”

“Yes, but it’s complicated.”

“How so?” ☁️ asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s not his actual name, and he’s my brother. He uses our other brother’s name when he’s out.”

“That’s.. odd. Is your name actually Richard, then?”

“Yes, I don’t do that. Only they do.”

☁️ nodded in understanding. Dick continued.

“You’re going to love my little brothers. Tim is a genius and the most considerate boy I know. And Damien is very kind-spirited- he’s outspoken and also very observant. You met Jason, already. He’s just a big teddy bear, honestly.”

☁️ raised an eyebrow at the last comment as Dick continued.

“I have other siblings, but they aren’t staying with us at the moment.”

“The Jason I met was big and scary..”

“That’s just ‘cause he’s working. He’s a softie, and he’ll make you laugh a lot when he’s not out.”

☁️ didn’t necessarily believe him, as the Jason he met yesterday was very straightforward with a somewhat aggressive tone.

“Right..”

After that, the conversation ended and the walk was silent once again. The silence didn’t last long, as Dick kept peering over to ☁️.

“So.. since we’re being honest with each other.. Is Alessio really your friend?”

“Yes, we met last semester. I thought that he was an asshole until we worked together on a project. He’s a lot nicer than people say.”

“So you aren’t dating?”

☁️ looked over to Dick, his eye twitching.

“This is the second time you’ve suggested that. What makes you think we’re together?”

“Mm.. just wondering.”

“Did you wanna take me out or something?” ☁️ asked, sarcastically. He smiled and turned to Dick.

“Maybe.”

“Wait, really?”

“You pulled a cop, remember?”

“How long are you gonna hold that against me?”

“Dunno.” Dick shrugged. Now, he was the one to grin at the man next to him.

A black SUV pulled beside Dick and ☁️ in the campus’s parking lot. Dick leaned against his motorcycle, still on the phone. Though ☁️ tried his best not to eavesdrop, Dick had called a man named Alfred to pick him up. Then, he called someone named Bruce, explaining ☁️’s situation in soft whispers. Now, he was on the phone with Jason, who seemed to be giving Dick a hard time. ☁️ only heard bits of the conversation.

An older man got out of the black SUV and opened the trunk, Dick gesturing for ☁️ to walk over to him.

“Hello, Mr. ☁️, right?”

“Yes, hello.” ☁️ said, watching the man take his suitcase and gently place it into the vehicle.

“What’s your name?”

“Please call me Alfred.”

☁️ nodded, watching as Alfred walked past him and opened the backseat door. He pointed inside, ☁️ saying a ‘thank you’ and stepping inside with his backpack around his shoulder. Alfred closed the door, approaching Dick as he hung up the phone. The two conversed for a few seconds before Alfred walked back alone, stepping into the vehicle.

“Master Dick has some errands to run before he joins you at the manor. He should be back shortly after you arrive.” Alfred explained as he started the car engine.

“Okay.” ☁️ said dully, watching out of the window as Dick sped away on his motorcycle.

—

Alfred and ☁️ conversed for the entirety of the ride, with the boy explaining his peculiar situation. After a few minutes, the vehicle pulled up to a set off tall, black gate doors. The estate fencing spread far down the road, with a sharp point on each post top- the bottom end going through lined brick along the ground.

Alfred pulled out his phone, the tall gate doors opening moments later. He turned his gaze to ☁️ in the rear-view mirror, ☁️ unintentionally returning the gaze as the man drove into the property. He drove down a stone path lined by large bushes before turning slightly, a mansion of brown and blacks now in view.

“Master Dick volunteered the manor as your safe house as opposed to a protective custody facility. There must be something very special about you, Mr. ☁️.”

☁️ felt as though his tone was rather suggestive, but nodded and smiled as Alfred parked the car.

The two got out, Alfred opening the trunk and grabbing ☁️’s suitcase. They then proceeded up the steps, with the door opening as soon as Alfred placed the suitcase back onto the ground. ☁️ peaked from behind him, seeing a tall man with black hair and a scar on lip in the doorframe. It was Tim- or rather- Jason, the cop who ☁️ spoke to yesterday.

“I’ll take it, Alfred.” Jason said, picking the suitcase up as if it weight nothing.

“Master Jason will take you to your room.”

“Thank you.” ☁️ turned from Alfred to Jason, who began walking into the manor and toward the double staircase. ☁️ followed closely behind, the size of the home making him feel small. The two walked up the left side of the staircase in silence. Upon reaching the top, Jason placed the suitcase down softly and turned to ☁️.

“Hi. I know we met before and it’s weird seeing me again. My name’s actually Jason, my brother is Tim-“

“I know, Dick told me about it.” ☁️ interrupted with a gentle tone, saving Jason the explanation.

“What else did he tell you?” Jason asked as he began down the hallway.

“You’re both private investigators. And that you’re a ‘big teddy bear’ apparently.”

Jason scoffed at the comment, a smirk forming on his face.

“Do you think I’m a ‘big teddy bear?’” Jason turned to him as he stopped at a door to his right. He pushed it open, dragging ☁️’s suitcase inside.

“More of just big.” ☁️ muttered, looking him up and down- Jason wearing a white shirt with wrinkled black jeans, his hair just as messy as it was yesterday. He was taller than Dick, but his muscles could be seen from his clothing just the same. Jason heard ☁️’s response and tried not to look offended.

“I mean in a.. muscular way..” ☁️ said, walking in front of him to look at the room.

“Wow..” Jason responded sarcastically.

The room was large with walls of maroon and gold accents. A wardrobe, dressers, a nightstand, and the bed frame were all a dark brown wood material. The ceiling was white, as were the window frames. Wooden flooring reflected a light brown, though it didn’t creak as ☁️ walked across it.

“This was my room, but I don’t mind you staying in it for a bit. The sheets are clean and the dresser next to the bed is empty, so you can put your clothes in it.”

“Where are you going to sleep, then?” ☁️ asked, turning to face him.

“The couch. I have my own place- I’ve just been staying here for the past few days to deal with.. y’know.. your case.”

“I don’t think I understand, but I don’t want to take your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” ☁️ said, grabbing his suitcase handle and dragging it toward the door. Jason stepped in front of him, blocking the doorway.

“I don’t mind. Unless you want to take Dick’s room. He’s got a thing for you, and if you don’t feel the same way, I think that’d be a little awkward.”

☁️ looked away from Jason, and smiled.

“I do, just a bit. He’s cute, but I barely know him.”

“He’s dated, like, three people in his entire life. I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

☁️ nodded as Jason moved out of his way.

“It’s the next door down. I’ll wash his sheets for you.”

“Thanks.”

Moonlight emitted through the room windows, illuminating the bed in which ☁️ sat on.

Dick’s room was comfortable and just as large as Jason’s. He visited ☁️ shortly after the boy arrived at the manor, obviously pleased to see the ☁️ in his bed. Not too long after, Alfred gave him a tour of the home, introducing him to the Wayne Manor. Both surprised and intimated to be in the Bruce Wayne’s house, ☁️ remained in the room to avoid meeting more of Dick’s family.

After falling asleep in Dick’s bed, it was now nighttime. ☁️ grabbed his phone from the nightstand, pulling up the man’s ‘Hey, this is Dick.’ message. He noticed that it was around 11pm as he began typing.

‘Hey, are you still going back there tonight?’

He placed the phone in his pocket and walked to the door, peaking out to make sure nobody was around. He silently wandered down the hallway and to the railing between the set of stairs, finding Alfred dusting the shelves below him. He walked down, watching as Alfred turned in his direction. ☁️ approached him.

“Hey Mr. Alfred. Do you know where Dick is?”

“I’m sorry, you missed him. Master Dick left an hour ago.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He said it was ‘confidential.’”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating on whether or not Dick went back to that barn.

“Actually, Mr. ☁️, Master Dick informed me that you had hoped to join him tonight. He gave me specific orders to keep you inside- it seemed he did not want you leaving due to safety concerns.”

Annoyed, ☁️ pursed his lips. “Oh.. I understand. Thank you.”

Alfred nodded. “While you slept we had dinner, and I packed some food away for you. It’s in the fridge, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

☁️ nodded again, thanking Alfred as he walked down the hallway and toward the kitchen. Jason was in there, running around the island as he rushed passed ☁️. Upon realizing that ☁️ was behind him, he quickly turned back around.

“Hey ☁️, did Dick reach out to you in the past hour?”

☁️ shook his head. “Alfred basically said he left to the barn an hour ago.”

Jason nodded, about to turn around before ☁️ began grilling him.

“Why? Is he there? Is he okay?”

“..Confidential. I might have to head over there as well.” Jason said, not looking ☁️ in the eye.

“Why does everybody keep saying that to me? Take me with.”

“I can’t.”

“Jason, please. I want to help.”

“Help by not getting yourself killed.” Jason said, pulling out his phone as it buzzed. He read the words on the screen before looking up at ☁️.

“Actually, I’ll have a friend pick you up. Be ready in 10 mins. To avoid anybody seeing you, climb out the window and use the gutter to get to the ground. Walk across the garden and use the bird bath next to the gate to jump over it. Walk around and meet him in front of the entrance.”

“Gonna assume you’ve done that before?”

“Many times.” Jason said before smiling and rushing out of sight. A skeptical Alfred peaked from down the hall, forcing ☁️ to return to the kitchen. He grabbed a fruit and quickly ate it before walking back to his room. He threw on a black sweater and zipped it up, him then opening Dick’s window and climbing out. The night’s cool air brushed against ☁️’s face almost immediately, with the sounds of crickets and leaves swishing together filling the air.

‘I’m an idiot for doing this- trusting these people and going back to that place. But I really need to know what’s in there. I need to see it for myself.’ ☁️ thought to himself as he carefully slid down the gutter, trying to make his escape a silent one. He ran across the grass through a garden of large bushes and flowers, finding the bird bath Jason had mentioned. He climbed on top of it, leaning forward and grasping the side of a post’s sharp point. Leaning forward, he hoisted himself over the gate, barely grazing the posts’ sharp tips. ☁️ bracing for impact, he landed on his knees and elbows. He brushed himself off, and then ran along the gate. Cutting around the corner, he found a pair of glowing red eyes piercing through him. The Red Hood was waiting for him.

“Get on.” Red Hood instructed, his voice deep and synthetic.

☁️ hurried over to the motorcycle Red Hood sat on, holding onto his waist as the two sped off into the night.

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: i’ve been itching to do a dc fic :,) ik this isn’t usually what i write, but thx for giving it a chance ! <3

261 notes · View notes

kissatoru · 7 months

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing. sub!vampire!levi ackerman x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. in 19th century society, everyone has secrets they want to keep from seeing the light of day — so what will happen when you unveil levi’s?

content. implied virgin/touch-starved!levi, ooc levi at some points cause of vampire hormones, plot before porn, blood/blood-drinking kink, oral fixation, dry humping, handjob, inappropriate use of cravats, petnames (dearest, darling)

notes. first fic of hornyween!! the others won’t be as long lol this took FOREVER. anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy it<3

wc. 5k

Sparkling chandeliers adorn the ballroom’s high ceilings, making the polished floor gleam like honey as stylish figures twirl and glide across it. The rest of the guests are gathered by the walls in clusters, their lively chatter and chuckles mixing in with the night’s melodies.

You stand by one of the pink brocade curtains, sipping a glass of champagne. Your stance is relaxed but mannerly; not seeking nor avoiding attention, just observing and occasionally humouring a fellow guest that takes notice of your presence. Among those who approach you, admirers are plentiful, with faces of various qualities and contours, and characters both pleasant and not, but none who gain more than a few minutes of your time before you’re politely concluding the conversation or excusing yourself entirely.

As you’re meandering through laughing circles and swaying couples, away from yet another adamant admirer, you scan the room for him: the main reason you attended this ball at all. He rarely arrives for the banquets, and when he does, he even more rarely eats more than is expected of him. Now that the dancing has begun, he should be here, but you’ve yet to spot a single trace of him. It has made you restless, your eyes desperate in their pursuit. Each time you catch a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin or a short stature and a neatly tied cravat, you’re just as suddenly disappointed when you realise it’s not him. Eventually, you fall back into the same routine as before — entertaining married couples, faking laughs at bad jokes, listening to shallow gossip.

“Goodness, me,” Baroness Azumabito gushes at you, “you are as charming as they say, Your Grace.”

You chuckle courteously. “You’re too kind, Lady Azumabito.”

She offers you a closed-eye smile, her crow’s feet pinching together. “I truly must ask,” she begins, unfolding her peacock-feather fan and speaking a little quieter now. You already know it’s certainly not something she must ask. “What are your plans on marriage? You have no small number of choices, I’m sure!”

She giggles a little too hard for your liking, and you are reminded of the not-so-pretty piece of gossip you heard only a mere ten minutes ago — her husband’s gambling problems, her unmarried child. Quite the ideal motive for her to talk to you; someone who has both higher status and greater wealth. Of course, you know not all hearsay is true, but with a smile like Lady Azumabito’s, cunning as a fox and twice as sneaky, trust is a risk you’re not willing to take.

You laugh again. “Oh, none at the moment,” you say, feigning ignorance, “I’m so busy these days, I feel as though a partner might be…”

At the edge of your vision, a dark-haired silhouette passes. Your head moves in search of it, your eyes following, flicking this way and that. However, amidst the sea of extravagant gowns and upscale suits, the glimpse you had managed to catch slips from your grasp all too soon.

“Might be what?” Kiyomi asks.

An uneasy sense of disappointment hollows in your chest, but you ignore it. “Uh, a distraction. Would be... a distraction.”

Another flash of shadowy hair, porcelain skin.

Kiyomi clears her throat. “Do you care to elaborate, Your Grace?”

Just as you’re about to turn back to her, a figure stops in clear view before you: a metre and a half tall, raven black locks, eyes as sharp as falcon talons, an intricately tailored waistcoat — and the swan-white ruffles of a linen cravat.

A huff is your only warning before the short woman is stepping in and obscuring your line of sight, her round eyes now pressed into slits by her strained smile. “Please forgive my impudence, Your Grace, but what has you so–”

You abruptly but gently take her hands into yours. “Pardon my manners, Lady Azumabito,” you say, already shifting on your feet in preparation for your departure, “but I’ve spotted an acquaintance of mine with whom I’d like to discuss some private matters with.” You let go of her hands and give a curt bow. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

Her dumbfounded expression is the last you see of her before you swiftly take your leave. You track the person with your eyes and feet in tandem, each step purposeful and your eagerness barely contained. Once you’re in arm’s length, you cheerily call out:

“Viscount Ackerman!”

Several people turn their heads. The Viscount in question stops no later, though seemingly reluctantly. He turns to face you, a question perched on the peak of his raised eyebrow.

Your shoes clack as you stride the rest of the way up to him. Once beside him, you lean over and flash him a cheeky smirk. “Fashionably late as always?” you remark, but it fails to prompt any sort of perceptible reaction. The only change in his expression is his eyebrow returning to its relaxed position.

“And I see you are…” Silver blue eyes wash over you, up and down, in a single steady motion. “In attendance. As always.”

“Of course,” you reply with a practised smile. “I would not dream of missing one of the Duke of Trost’s parties.”

He hums. “I don’t doubt that.”

You hum back, thoughtful. “And what of yourself, my Lord?” you ask. “What brings you here?” You pause to smile knowingly. “Certainly not the food, seeing as you were absent for that.”

His eyes narrow and his lips press together in a firm line. “If you must know, the Duke was very insistent that I attend,” he explains, eyeing a passing servant before picking up a flute of champagne from their tray. “As for my tardiness… I prioritised taking care of some business affairs, first and foremost. Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand.” He swirls the liquid around in his glass and takes a sip.

You chuckle heartily. “Oh, come now!” you exclaim. “Why so hostile? Are we not friends?”

“Only in public,” Levi corrects in a low tone.

You turn to face the room, smirking against your glass. “That’s not true and you know it.”

A newly-engaged couple you were conversing with earlier passes by, waving. You smile and wave back at them.

Levi makes an exasperated noise. “Do you never tire of that?” he grumbles into his glass.

You bring your own glass up to your lips. “Whatever do you mean, my Lord?”

He grimaces. “That.”

You giggle. “Keeping up appearances is just the way I was raised,” you reply with a gesture of nonchalance, “but not all my smiles are fake, you know. It’s quite pleasant, smiling.” You beam at him, as if to prove your point. “I think you ought to try it some time.”

Levi scowls. “I know how to smile.”

“Oh, I never said you didn’t, my Lord,” you quip. “I have no doubt that you understand it in theory, just that you should try putting it into practice.” You point to the corner of your mouth, lifting it to mimic a smile.

He sucks his teeth and tears his gaze away from your own. “You’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are,” you say, stepping closer. “For longer than ten seconds, might I add. Surely a feat, no?”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He raises his glass, speaking over the lip of it. “You just happen to be the least infuriating one here.”

You bite your tongue — “Well, by your standards, being the least infuriating is, in fact, quite flattering!” — and instead, you glance around and lean in. “In that case, what do you say we go find a place away from all this poor company?” Your voice takes on a lighter yet all the more meaningful tone. “Perhaps somewhere just for the two of us?”

There’s a glint of interest in Levi’s eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you pull away to look at him. “I would say that’s highly inappropriate,” he says, hushed, but not in a way that matches his words; hushed in a way that suggests intrigue.

“Inappropriate?” you echo, lips curving into a smile. “You really needn’t worry so much, my Lord! We shan’t be away for long, I promise.”

Levi’s thin eyebrows angle up. After a moment of contemplation, he closes his eyes and sighs. “If you insist,” he concedes.

Without further discussion, you set aside your and Levi’s drinks, then go ahead and stroll over to the arched doors with Levi not far behind.

With how often the Duke hosts such extravaganzas, you’ve had plenty of occasions to become familiar with the layout of their home, hence why you know where all of the rooms are. You navigate through the narrow hallways with an air of confidence, occasionally stopping to praise or snicker at family paintings and decor choices, much to Levi’s chagrin.

“What is it now?” Levi asks, attempting to pinpoint the subject of your attention this time.

You stand by a window that faces the rear garden, peering through the glass with squinted eyes. “Do my eyes deceive me or is that the Countess of Ehrmich and her handmaid kissing out in the gazebo?” You turn to Levi with a theatrically outraged jaw-drop, making him roll his eyes.

“You are no better than those gossiping simpletons we left in the ballroom,” he scolds as he draws the curtains shut.

You chuckle. “Apologies! Only a jest!” He glares at you but otherwise doesn’t complain. You watch him for a moment, how his nimble fingers tug and adjust the curtains, how he mutters expletives under his breath at the dust that transfers to his hands from the curtains.

Feeling mischievous, you lean in, so your lips are almost touching his ear. “It’s just so fun to tease you, I can’t resist.”

Goosebumps raise on Levi’s skin as he flinches away from you, fingers hovering over where your breath brushed his earlobe. He swallows. “Maybe you ought to practise some self-restraint.”

You smirk. “Maybe you ought to have less of it.”

He frowns. “How would that benefit anyone?”

You take a step closer. “Try it and find out.”

Levi takes a step back, but you take another step forward. His back bumps into a solid surface as your hand reaches out. He freezes in anticipation.

The click of a door handle, then a quiet creak.

“I believe,” you say, smiling cattily and circling around him, “I have found the drawing room.”

Levi huffs. “Finally,” he mumbles and pushes past you through the door. You follow after him, shutting the door behind you.

The room is a size you’d expect given how large the rest of the residence is. A ceiling mural depicting an Ancient Roman legend; tall windows and velvet curtains. At the centre of the room, atop a patterned rug, gold and beige furniture is arranged in a thoughtful composition. Dainty — yet no doubt expensive — decorations and trinkets adorn various corners, shelves and walls.

In one of the armchairs, Levi sits down, exhaling long and heavy, as if he had been holding his breath all night. You, on the other hand, decide to explore the room first, ambling between the furnishings and admiring the cosiness of the space. Absent-mindedly, you run a finger along the spines of some books piled on top of a small table, tracing the ribbed leather and embossed text.

“At last, some peace and quiet, hm?” you say, mostly just to occupy the air with something of substance, as you glance at Levi.

He’s sitting with one elbow resting on the seat’s floral print armrest, the pads of his fingers massaging the area between his eyebrows. “Until you spoiled it, yes,” he grunts.

The beginnings of a witty remark form, then just as quickly dissipate from your tongue. The corners of your lips sink, the lines in your face waning into nothing.

With his face cast down, Levi is oblivious to the change in your expression. It isn’t until you take two, five, ten or so steps — when the silence drags on without a response of your own — that he raises his head.

“Actually,” you start, standing by the armchair across from him, only a few feet away, “I brought you here to discuss something with you.”

His reaction is stalled but still comes in the form of a puzzled frown. “Go on, then.”

The floorboards squeak under your weight as you take another few steps forward. Levi shifts in his chair. “We agreed to be honest with one another, Levi. To not keep secrets,” you say, “yet I have good reason to suspect you haven’t entirely been maintaining your end of the agreement.”

As he opens his mouth to defend himself, your approaching footsteps finally seal the remaining distance between you. You step in to occupy the space between his knees and the contact is enough to make them jolt away as if from flames. Levi stares down at them until he catches the movement of your arms in the corner of his vision.

In your hands is a book, presumably from the stack you were observing earlier. He had been so absorbed in the shrinking space between you that he didn’t stop to consider that perhaps the arms linked behind you might be holding something.

His eyes roam the book, then fall on the shining yellow words etched into the front cover:

The Vampyre

by John William Polidori

Electric impulses fire through his body. His mouth goes dry. “I told Hange to get rid of that.”

“Really? Why is that?” you ask, turning it over in your hand. “I hear it’s quite good.”

Levi can’t stop the irritation from showing on his face. “The problem is not with the book itself.”

It’s the influence it has on imbeciles like Hange, he finishes in his head. Imbeciles who’ll believe anything with enough coincidences and paranoid witness accounts. Sure, Hange is a special case, because they’re not so much afraid of the rumoured existence of ‘vampires’ as they are curious, which is arguably worse — especially since, for once, the imbeciles are right.

“Then what’s the problem?” Your frown seems to be of genuine confusion, but Levi knows better. There’s an underlying something just waiting to reveal itself.

Levi folds his arms across his chest. “What does this have to do with our agreement?”

The smile returns to your face, but it is unlike any that Levi is used to seeing; not fake, but not entirely trustworthy either. “Surely you’ve figured out that much by now.” You set the book aside. “Really, Levi. Do you take me for some kind of fool?” Your hands come forward and clasp the armrests of his chair. “Did you really think I don’t know that… you’re a vampire?”

Levi scoffs. “Do you hear yourself?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Vampires are a baseless conspiracy. A ludicrous superstition fabricated by the English that only a credulous halfwit–”

A hand grabs him by the cheeks, cramming the rest of his words back behind his teeth. “Open your mouth,” you order.

The suddenness of the command evaporates any and all thoughts from Levi’s head, replacing them with a purely chemical reaction in the form of heat striking through him. Gradually, you push his head back — and he lets you — while a hard mound he can only assume is your knee eases between his parted legs, coercing a gasp from his mouth. As soon as his jaw loosens, your fingers are poking through the gap between his lips, moving as if hunting for something. They settle around his upper canines, sliding over and prodding at them, over and over, until eventually they begin to grow, extending down, down into a sharp, tapered point, much too long for what can be considered human.

Levi groans, but the sound is much too airy for pain or discomfort to be the cause of it. Drool is gathering beneath his tongue and blood in his cheeks. How humiliating it is to have his fangs coaxed out by the close proximity of his carnal weakness — by someone who should be his prey in this dynamic — and how all the more humiliating it is to have the strike of heat from before already invading the rest of his body.

Only once the fangs have stopped growing do you cease your petting, opting instead to drag a single fingertip along the newly-revealed length of bone. “My, my,” you coo, “it seems that the truth has spoken for itself.” You remove your fingers from his mouth, but Levi’s head remains in its position against the backrest. “Whatever shall I do with you, now that I have you at my mercy?”

Your fingers travel down his exposed throat. Like a frightened prey animal, Levi’s body digs into the cushioned upholstery, trying to comprehend the foreign feeling of being touched in this way. Breaths beat out through his nose in quickening puffs and miniscule tremors rattle through his chest as he attempts to control, or perhaps conceal, the frantic rise and fall of it. Beneath your fingertips, you can feel his heartbeat, the pulse so solid that if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was hitting his ribcage with every beat.

“Are you afraid?” you ask him quietly, your fingers continuing their path downward.

Levi swallows, lets out a heavy breath but doesn’t answer. You watch him, analyse him. His tightly closed eyes, the sweat coming through his clothes… “Then perhaps you’re—” His unsteady breaths, his contracting muscles— “aroused?”

His Adam’s apple lifts and then drops. You follow the motion with your eyes, then lower, lower and lower, until you find the answer you’re looking for in his oh-so-conveniently open thighs. He immediately attempts to shut them, but your own prevent him from doing so.

“No need to be ashamed,” you assure him as you smile that knowing smile and carefully climb on top of his lap. “I can help to relieve you. If you wish.” You rub your bottom half against his hardened groin as a testament to your words.

Levi’s neck stretches over the backrest, an open-mouthed moan escaping him, then retracts back to his chest. His eyebrows cinch together in thought, but the way his hips rut into you has already declared his decision, so when his eyes finally flutter open and peer up at yours, you are unable to suppress your look of delight.

“Please,” is all he says — and all he needs to say to send your mind and self-control reeling.

You pounce forward, ravaging his lips with your own, while you grind down again; harder than before, and with more finesse. The noise that Levi makes into your mouth is much too heavenly for a creature of such damnable origin, yet as addictive as if it had been produced by a devil of temptation itself.

The swipe of a sleek surface has you parting from him on instinct. “Careful of your teeth, darling,” you warn and he nods as if in a daze before pulling you back in. He paws at your clothes, helpless and wanting, as though he aches to bring you closer. You let out an enraptured sigh at his aggressive gesture. After all, what an honour it is to have the stoic Viscount Levi Ackerman falling apart and moaning pathetically beneath you; what sacrilege to be a mortal defiling its natural predator. You feel as though you’re going mad, losing all sense of self from the sheer thrill of it.

You drag yourself away from his lips, only to see the full effects of your actions. Strong features softening as though he’s melting from the pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut while his glossy black hair, usually so perfectly combed, fans out in loose strands over his forehead. Razor-sharp nails mauling the armrests. Two fanged teeth poking out from under his lip.

In minutes, Levi is curling into you and crying out against your skin. You guide him through his climax, raking your fingers up from his undercut and through the strands at the top while whispering caring words to him, in soothing repetition. He collapses into you, his arms limp at your sides and his panting breaths warm on your neck. Before you can push him away, he’s mindlessly nuzzling and lapping at your throat like a dog, coating your skin in spit, sucking and occasionally catching his fangs on the fragile flesh. It would be a lie to say you aren’t enticed by the prospect of them breaking through; moving with more purpose and sinking into your–

Levi whines against your shoulder. “Please, let me have a taste. I’ll do anything, please,” he mumbles. “It’s been so long, I– I cannot wait any longer, please, I beg of you…” He pulls away, licking his lips, as if the taste of your skin is enough to last and cherish. “Please,” he begs, “let me drink your blood.”

You smile, wide, and brush back the hair tickling his eyes. “Only since you asked so nicely.”

As soon as the words enter the air, Levi lunges at you. You’re almost not fast enough, but manage to get a hold of him.

You pin his wrists on either side of his head, and the tightness of your grip seems to snap Levi out of his ravenous trance. “That wasn’t very polite,” you reprimand. Levi only looks up at you regretfully, which is likely the closest thing you’ll get to an apology from him. You sigh. “Don’t worry.” You let go of him and slide your palm under his chin. “Open–”

His jaw falls slack in an instant, granting you access to the inside of his mouth. You trail your fingers around his wet lips first, this way and that, slow and soft, just to hear him whine. You giggle but finally slip a finger inside and Levi groans in time with it. His tongue is the next thing to fall from his mouth, hanging over his lip and dripping saliva onto his shirt.

“What a sight,” you breathe. “I wonder what our fellow nobles would think.”

Levi moans softly as you poke your fingertip into the point of one of his fangs. You hiss as it pierces the skin and wait for the blood to collect before turning your finger over.

“Tilt your head back, dearest,” you say, and Levi does so with haste. You dangle your finger above his eager tongue and watch his eyes roll back as the first drop hits his taste buds. He savours the flavour like a man starved of water, his mouth pooling with drool, and whimpers in anticipation of the next drop.

Your eyes are fixated on him, as if hypnotised, and engulfed in sick amusement from the power you have over him. Your thumb sits under your fingertip, forcing out the liquid with steady presses, but for Levi, it’s still not enough. Animalistic hunger and impatience possess him. His arms come to life to grab your wrist and yank it toward his mouth. He manages to swallow your finger whole before you can react, though the sight is much too precious for you to deny or scold him anyway.

The grip around your wrist turns vice-like as he feverishly sucks the blood from your finger. His closed eyelids twitch and runny spit oozes down his chin. You look on in adoration at the sweetly depraved state you have him in. Who would think that a blood-sucking monster could be this docile and helpless?

Levi’s panting grows heavier until you begin to feel him rutting against you. When you look down, the lump of his crotch has regained hardness, already straining against the dark material. “Aroused again so soon?” you taunt.

He is so engrossed in sucking that he doesn’t seem to hear you, so you tug your finger out of his mouth and hands. He grunts in protest, but you ignore him and try again. “Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

As if freshly woken from a daze, or perhaps still in one, those folds you’re so used to seeing between his eyebrows take shape in a show of gentle confusion. “Take… care of what?”

You bring a hand down to his lap and lightly tap the bulge that’s formed there, making him tense and spasm under you. He must still be sensitive, you think with a smile.

“Of this,” you clarify.

He swallows. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You stifle a chuckle. “It’s a yes or no question, Levi, so answer with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

He sighs and evades your eyes as he hisses out a reluctant “Yes.”

“Good boy,” you praise and begin to make quick work of the buttons on his trousers.

Levi frowns. “Don’t call me that. I am not a dog.”

You laugh through your nose, amused. “Yet you drool and whimper just like one.” You playfully stare up at him through your lashes. He doesn’t say anything back, just blooms a deeper pink, so you accept your win and finish unbuttoning his trousers. Next, you unfasten the strings of his undergarments, freeing his leaking length.

As soon as your fingers make contact with it, Levi writhes. His legs squirm and his hips buck up into your touch. In seconds, the wet head of his cock is dripping with bead after bead of precum. In your awe of his intense reaction, you find yourself experimentally toying with it; squeezing, tugging, kneading, fingering. Obscene noises created by the remnants of his previous release make colour fill Levi’s usually colourless cheeks. His glinting grey eyes are lidded, his head dizzy and delirious. His mouth is hanging open in surrender to the erotic sounds he cannot help making, tongue dyed scarlet from your blood and glistening with saliva. You adore it — are spurred on by it, even — but his volume is now teetering on too loud, and the last thing you want right now is to be caught.

So with one hand on his dick, keeping him distracted, you hurriedly untie his cravat and stuff it into his inviting mouth. A startled, confused but thankfully muted moan rumbles through the cloth. You grin at the conflicted eyes and knitted eyebrows you get in response to your actions, entirely unbothered as you continue to take him apart with your touches, to watch him become the embodiment of debauchery. Moonlight skin shiny with sweat, teeth gnawing around his makeshift gag, pelvis involuntarily meeting your movements, elbows pointing to the ceiling as he desperately scratches and claws at the back of the chair, surely ruining it beyond repair with his needlepoint nails and vampiric strength. So effortlessly picture-perfect.

No more than a few seconds later, he’s arching his back against the chair and wailing into his linen gag. The wood of the backrest splinters and the upholstery tears loudly under his fingernails. Warm fluid gushes out over your fist and dribbles down it as you continue stroking his length. Your other hand takes out the cravat from Levi’s mouth and wipes up the mess. He lets out a few wet little warbles and whimpers at the overstimulating feeling, but quietens down once you finish.

You don’t allow him a second to recuperate from his high, instead satiating your own desires; snatching his face up in your hands and latching your lips onto his in one smooth motion. Tongues curl together and the metallic tang of your own blood swarms your senses. Levi keens and grips the fabric at your waist. By the time your mouths separate, you’re both breathless and gasping against each other, and the allure of his dishevelled state has you unable to resist trailing a few extra kisses on his skin; from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, on the soft spot behind his ear and down his delicate neck. Levi grabs at your shoulders weakly, but when you pull back to check on him, his gaze drops to your laps.

“How did you find that?” You tilt your head. “Good?”

Better than good, so much better — is what he thinks, but what he settles on saying is “Yes, it– it was good.”

The smile that stretches across your cheeks is inevitable, and the most sincere one you’ve had the entire night. “Well… as much as I would like to keep going,” you say, chewing on your inner lip corner, and making Levi flush, “I think it’s time we go back.”

You climb off of the chair and straighten out your clothes. Meanwhile, Levi tries, and fails, to stand up, his knees buckling and sending him flopping back into the seat.

You sigh sympathetically and caress the side of his face. “You should rest for a moment,” you tell him. Your fingers glide down to his chin, take it into your hand and wipe the spit, along with the traces of smeared blood, from his lips. “Perhaps neaten up your appearance, in the meantime?” you add with a smirk.

Some awareness seems to have awoken in him, perhaps as a result of your teasing, because he pouts and replies with, “I was planning on doing so anyway.”

You don’t say anything else, taking that moment to appreciate the silence, just the distant echo of music and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Luckily, it does not take long for Levi’s ragged breaths to calm, and for his thighs to reclaim their strength. You help to clean up his image, fastening up garments, flattening out creases and wiping away or concealing the evidence of your activities. Kisses are exchanged in between; some of them stolen, some of them followed by giggles, and some by lustful gazes.

Once you’re ready to leave, you head for the door, but you only go as far as clasping the gold handle before stopping and turning to Levi. His eyebrows shift in that way they’re so good at, speaking when words don’t need to. Your eyes sketch out a path down his face, all the way to his lips, where you find yourself already missing the blood, drool and pearly fangs…

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for his nape and wrapping your plush lips around each other.

“If you’re well-behaved tonight,” you rasp against his lips, “I’ll treat you to more than just a finger next time.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv <3

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 6 months

Text

Staring Down the Barrel of Your Gun

Bucky teaches you to shoot a gun when he realizes he won't always be there to protect you.

Warnings: all of my work is 18+ only, but language, references to gun usage and gun terminology, mentions of Bucky as the Winter Soldier, Bucky scaring the reader with his actions

A/N: This takes place during the events of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, specifically at Sarah's house in Louisiana. Also I don't know much about guns, so take the terminology as a work of fiction for the sake of the story

"Buck, I'm starving. Can we please take a break?" You groaned, looking over to the porch, the door to Sarah's kitchen wide open so the scent of pancakes wafted through the open air. You had been up since sunrise with your boyfriend running gun handling drills under the cover of the trees behind the Wilson's house Your hands ached from palming the steel grip, your finger on and off the trigger at Bucky's command.

"Pay attention, doll. If you're in danger, you can't afford to lose focus. Now get in your stance." Bucky nodded at the target in front of you about 100 feet away, a blacked out silhouette that was tacked to a far tree, riddled with bullet holes from your previous shots. You wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. Even though it was barely April, the Louisiana humidity made it feel at least 20 degrees warmer, even in the early morning. You let the gun drop to your side as you shook out your sore arms.

"Never point your gun down to the ground like that." His sharp tone startled you into position. Bucky was barking orders and corrections at you, and it was starting to get on your nerves. You grumbled expletives at him, that his super hearing definitely picked up but chose to ignore for the sake of your training. You lifted your arms out in front of you, one hand layered on top of the other as you focused on your target. Stance, Lift, Target, Safety, Trigger. Bucky's words from your previous trainings echoed through your mind. He had drilled the commands into you with repetition.

"Your footings all wrong." You let out a sharp breath, holding your tongue from giving Bucky a piece of your mind as you removed your finger from the trigger. You felt his metal hand on your left hip, his leg forcing your left foot forward so you had a staggered stance. "Stand straight up and the recoil will knock you on your ass." He stood back, examining you like you were under a microscope. "Alright, go."

Again, you planted your footing, going through the motions in your mind.

Stance, Lift, Target, Safety, Trigger.

You felt a warm breeze hit your face, the wind whistling in your ears. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, holding it as you slowly opened your eyes, focusing in on your target. Finally, you allowed the breath to leave your lungs. You were about to pull the trigger when Bucky stopped you again. "Wrong."

"What, now?", you gritted out between clenched teeth. His hands were on your body again, this time at your elbows, pulling your arms back a toward you. "You'll break your arms if you stand rigid", Bucky whispered, his tone gravelly, "you need to be strong, not stiff". His breath against your ear sent a shiver down your spine. Bucky's hands were no stranger to the contours of your body, and usually you welcomed his touch, but out here he was rough with you in a way you didn't like, forcing you into certain positions when he felt like you weren't following his instructions.

"Now, do it again. Right this time." For the third time, you positioned your feet, Stance, lifted your arms out in front of you, Lift, to the height of your target, Target, closed your eyes and took in a sharp breath as you removed the safety, Safety, and placed your hand on the trigger prepared to pull, Trigger.

Bucky watched you intently as you stood frozen, your chest heaving with each breath. Bucky had been training you for days, and your target was proof that you weren't shy with a gun, but for some reason you couldn't pull the trigger.

"Shoot." You couldn't hear Bucky as he tried to grab your attention, the ringing in your ears drowning out all other sound.

"Shoot the gun." He was shouting against the silence, his patience wearing thin. "Shoot the damn gun, doll."

You blinked and Bucky was standing in front of you, the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" Your question was just above a whisper. You tried to move, but couldn't, as if you had lost control of your body. "I said shoot the gun." His tone was even, as if he was telling you about his day. He had a vacant stare as he looked through you, and for a second you thought you saw a glimpse of the monster buried just beneath the surface.

"Buck, I'm not going to shoot you." Your voice was shaky, but he was unmoving.

"Shoot the gun, now." He grabbed at the gun with his vibranium limb, holding it to the middle of his forehead. You saw the steel barrel buckle under his grip. Bucky didn't see you as his girlfriend, the love of his life, but as a soldier. A soldier who was disobeying his direct order.

Tears were brimming your eyes, blurring your vision. You felt the heat creep up your neck as your hands went numb from holding your arms up for so long. You weren't sure how you got here, starting the morning training with Bucky, to suddenly being forced to make an impossible decision in front of the Winter Soldier.

"No, Bucky." You dropped your arms, feeling the weight of the gun as you put the safety back on, letting it fall to the ground. He took a step toward you to pick the gun up, and you backed away instinctively, cowering away from him. Bucky's gaze softened as he realized that you were terrified, your hands shaking. "Baby, I-".

"Food's ready, if you two love birds can take a break from your tactical training." You heard Sam's booming voice as he bounded down the stairs of the back porch, quickly reaching the two of you with his wide stride. His smile quickly dropped when he noticed your tears, Bucky's facial expression stoic. He sensed the tension between the two of you, clearing his throat. "Everything okay out here?"

You wiped a stray tear from your cheek, giving him a weak smile. "I've lost my appetite." You quickly turned away, jogging back to the house, falling just out of Bucky's reach as he called out to you. "Doll, wait." He moved to follow after you when Sam stopped him, a hand to his chest.

"What did you do?" Bucky shrugged him off, pushing past Sam.

"Why was she crying?" Sam continued to push, right on Bucky's heels. "Better crying than dead."

Sam stepped in front of Bucky, shoving him hard at the shoulders. Bucky barely stumbled back, but he got the message, stopping in his tracks. "What did you do?" Sam repeated himself, his anger evident.

Bucky collided with Sam, puffing out his chest. "She hesitated. You hesitate, you die. You think for a second too long, you die. I told her to shoot me, and she hesitated." He couldn't make eye contact with Sam, looking just past him toward the house. He needed to make sure you were okay.

"You asked her to shoot you? What are you, psychotic?" Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Bucky had made so many strides to separate himself from the Soldat; the therapy, working to right his wrongs, and sometimes, the dark side of Bucky would seep out, and Sam wondered if it was all for naught.

"Maybe I am", Bucky edged out, finally looking Sam in the face.

"What are you doing, man?" Sam tried to appeal to Bucky's humanity, the side of him he knew was crazy about you. "You're gonna push her away if you keep doing this."

"Doing what? Trying to protect her? I'm not always going to be around, and-". Sam could see the life return to Bucky's eyes, a sadness washing over him.

"and what, Buck?" Sam continued to push.

"and I can't lose her." Bucky could usually push his feelings to the recesses of his mind, but he felt it all crumbling down around him, the weight crushing on his chest. "The gun drills, the tactical training, they're all so she can protect herself. I know I agreed to be a part of the Avengers, to give up my life to save others, but with all that we've lost, Sam, everyone we've lost, this world just continues to prove that it doesn't play fair. No matter what I do, how I try to protect her, none of it seems to matter. I can't and I will not lose her. So she cannot hesitate. She hesitates, she dies."

Sam sighed as he rested a hand on Bucky's shoulder. He knew that Bucky was right; being an Avenger meant nothing if they couldn't take care of the ones they loved. "Buck, I get it. I've got a sister and two nephews who are always on my mind. I hate the fact that we went from being on the top of the world, to realizing that no one gave a shit about us." He was standing on his convictions, trying to rescue his family's business and save his sister's house all at the same time.

"But there are enough monsters and villains in this world, she doesn't need you to be another one in her life. Fix this, Bucky. Don't lose her like this."

****

The house quieted as Bucky entered the kitchen. AJ and Cass whispered to each other as they pushed the last bites of their pancakes around their plate. Sarah watched Bucky out of the corner of her eye as he circled the room. "There's some food left over, probably cold by now" Sarah muttered as she sunk further into her seat at the dining table, taking a sip of her coffee.

Bucky chose to ignore their response to his spectacle, his focus on you. "Where's Y/N? I need to talk to her first."

Sarah nodded, rolling her eyes at Bucky. "Mhm, you sure do. She's upstairs."

Bucky took the stairs two at a time as he searched the house for you.

You had the parts of the Glock 19 Bucky had given you, organized out on the desk of the guest room you were staying in when Bucky found you down the hall. He stood at the doorway, watching as you cleaned every inch with a cloth, just as he had taught you. A small smile slipped on his face when he realized you had been paying attention.

"If you want me to shoot you, you'll have to wait", you called over your shoulder, not bothering to look at him. Bucky rubbed his jawline as he sat on the edge of the bed behind you.

"I know you don't agree with my methods of teaching-", Bucky started. "Your methods?", you scoffed, dropping the magazine on the desk, the metal clattering against the table. You turned to him, your anger brimming at the surface. "You're tryna justify that stunt you pulled as a teachable moment?" You felt your throat go dry at the memory of holding a gun to your boyfriend's head, momentarily holding his life in your hands.

"I need you to know how to protect yourself. There are people out there, terrible people, who would do anything to get to me, including hurting you." You turned back to the desk, gently placing your hands on your thighs. You closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath. "Doll, are you listening to me?" Bucky tried to grab your attention.

Choosing not to respond, you instead stood and grabbed the grip of your gun, briefly examining the piece before you made quick work of connecting each component to reassemble the gun, the metal clicking as each part connected. Bucky watched in awe as you moved with the precision that he had only seen from soldiers during his time in the military. You slipped the full magazine into the gun, slamming it in place before you pointed the assembled gun at the vintage dresser that Sarah had set up in the corner of the room, in perfect stance, your arms stretched out just enough to brace for the recoil.

"Is that trained enough for you, Sargent Barnes?" You smirked, your words dripping with sarcasm without an ounce of humor in your voice.

"Alright." Bucky snatched at the barrel, taking the gun from you, jogging you out of your trance. "You've made your point." He tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

You dropped down onto the bed, looking up at Bucky, tears welling in your eyes again. He sat down next you, his arm brushing against yours. You felt him gently squeeze at your thigh, once again feeling the touch that you knew belonged to your Bucky, the Winter Soldier long gone.

"I knew what I was getting into, Buck. I knew who you were, what you had done, and all of the danger that came with being with you." You placed your hand atop his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "and if that danger ever comes, you've prepared me to the best of your ability." Bucky cradled the side of your head in his hand, placing a kiss on your temple. You both sat in silence for a moment before you continued.

"But I could-, I would never be able to hold a gun to your head, let alone pull the trigger. If you think I ever could, you don't know me at all." You let out a shaky breath. "Buck, I was terrified. That wasn't you out there." Bucky's back straightened at your words. He retreated into himself, turning his gaze to the floor, trying to pull his hands into his lap, but you wouldn't let him. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Tell me the truth. Is the Winter Soldier gone for good?"

He wanted desperately to tell you yes, that the only part of him that remained was James Buchanan Barnes, the boy from Brooklyn, friend to Steve Rogers, the man you loved, someone who would never dare to hurt you, but that would be a lie.

"Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, and he's never coming back."

You pulled Bucky in for a kiss by his chin, your lips barely grazing his before he had you in his grasp, his returning kiss passionate, as if he was apologizing in all the ways his words would fall short.

The Winter Soldier was still a part of him for now, but he'd do anything to protect you, even from himself.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction

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delicatebarness · 23 days

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i cant read your mind | chapter one

Summary: It has been six months since half the universe came back, six months since Steve left, six months since you lost Natasha, and three months since finding out the man you were sleeping with wanted to end it.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout.

Word Count: 1600

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A/N: I have watched TFATWS at least 6 times this week so I am prepared for this.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff

As Sam addressed the crowd at the Smithsonian, you listened to his every word by Rhodey’s side. You let yourself laugh at the appropriate moments and fought back tears as your friend paid tribute to another. Your heart ached as you watched him pass on the shield, the symbol that guided you to become the best agent you could and more.

“I can’t do this,” you murmured almost inaudibly as you slipped away from the crowd, retreating to the quiet street. You steadied your thoughts, taking a few deep breaths. Retrieving your phone from your purse, you hesitated before dialing a number. “Come on,” you urged as the ringing persisted.

Disappointment washes over you as you realize there’s no answer on the other end, you stand there for a moment. Staring at your call lost, feeling the loneliness creep in as you see that none of your calls have been picked up. Taking another deep breath, you put your phone back and start walking. Each step is a deliberate effort to move forward.

While navigating the streets of Washington, your thoughts are focused on the events at the Smithsonian. The passing of the shield symbolized the end of an era for you. An era that had taken over her entire adult life.

You enter your quiet apartment and sink onto the couch. The weight of the day, flight, and lack of food were starting to seem heavier, you couldn’t bring yourself to get changed out of the formal black dress you had been wearing since half four that morning. You retrieved your phone from your purse once again, your fingers hovering over the screen as you debated whether to try calling again.

You knew it was getting late but you dialed the number again, heart pounding with anticipation. As the phone rang, you tried not getting your hopes up, but they were crushed when it went to voicemail.

Sighing deeply, you set your phone down as you got back up from the couch and made your way back out into the street. You were proud of yourself for not letting the tears spill down your cheeks.

The streets were quiet, and the soft glow of the streetlights offered a semblance of solace. With no destination in your mind, you wandered as the hunger gnawed at your stomach. Searching for a nearby restaurant for a late-night bite, you approached the diner you knew as Izzy.

Your heart lurched in your chest as you recognized the figure through the window, sitting opposite a woman, she seemed to be laughing at whatever it was he was telling her. Playing a game of Battleship and drinking. “Not like that’s going to affect him,” you thought as you took in the sight. For a moment, you stood frozen in place, the tears you previously held back now beginning to spill.

Once you were home and washed the day off of you, a hint of optimism rose from within you. Deciding to open yourself up to a new experience, you downloaded a popular dating app and uploaded all the photos of you in dresses that hugged your body just the way you loved. The way he once said should be for his eyes only. Swiping through profiles, it didn’t take long for you to come across someone who caught your eye, and match with them.

You exchanged messages for the rest of the night, at some point agreeing to meet for brunch the next morning.

Your date was waiting for you when you arrived at the cafe, a friendly smile lighting up his face. Exchanging greetings, he pulled out a chair for you and helped with your coat and bag. You thanked him, finding yourself relaxed in his company.

Settling into conversation, you shared stories, laughed, and began feeling a genuine connection. You hadn’t allowed yourself to truly feel this happy in three months, letting yourself let go of the weight that had been pressed into your chest for so long.

“Is that? Is that The Winter Soldier?” your date asked, his focus moving away from you and instead toward the entrance of the cafe. Turning your gaze over to where your date had been looking, it felt like time stopped as you looked into the eyes of a furrowing James Buchanan Barnes. His fist clenched under his leather gloves.

“Here we go,” you mumbled under your breath as you noticed him making his way over to you. With trembling hands, you reached for the glass of champagne that sat on the table in front of you. Tilting the glass back, you swallowed every last drop of it in an attempt to calm yourself down.

“I need to speak to you,” Bucky growled, his voice low and commanding as he towered over you. As much as you’ve wanted nothing more than to be around him for the last three months, you kept your gaze fixed on your date. “Now.”

“I’m on a date,” your tone even with a hint of defiance as you responded to the super soldier. You watched as the eyes of your date filled with fear and amazement.

“I can see that,” he replied dryly, sarcasm dripping in his tone as he gave your date a pointed look. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing the tension between you and Bucky.

“Whatever you have to say, it can wait,” your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m here with someone else,” you added emphasis on ‘someone else’ as you sensed him tense up beside you.

Your date cleared his throat, shooting a hesitant glance between you and Bucky. He spoke up, his tone polite but uneasy. “Perhaps I should… give you two some privacy?” He began to stand from the table, making his way over to the restrooms. Bucky quickly sat in the seat he had previously occupied.

Your gaze was ablaze with a mixture of hurt and frustration as you finally made eye contact with Bucky. “What do you want?” your voice trembled slightly.

Bucky couldn’t suppress the sarcasm that came from his tone as he looked over toward the restrooms. “Well, he seems like a real charmer,” his tone full of irony.

You shot him a disapproving look, eyebrows knitting together in a silent warning. “Again, what do you want?” Bucky looked back at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his hips. Rolling your eyes, you defended the man you had known for less than 12 hours. “He’s a nice guy,”

Leaning back in his seat, Bucky folded his arms across his chest as he sent you a knowing look. “If you say so,” he remarked. If it wasn’t for the dry and snarky tone, you’d have thought he was backing down. “And, I’m sure he can handle a doll such as you,” he continued while sending you a wink.

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me like you have done for the last three months?” you sighed, picking up your fork and using it to move food around your plate.

“I saw the pictures you used for your little dating profile,” he glared at you when he noticed a smirk now taking place over your lips.

You shrugged nonchalantly and replied with a calm tone. “Yeah, and?”

His jaw tightened at your response, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Thought they were only for me?” he pressed.

Your expression softened, remorse flickering over your features as you looked back at him. “Things change,” you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. “I waited five years for you to come back, five years of not even knowing if you were coming back,” your voice quivered with emotion.

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he straightened his posture. “I know-” he began to speak but you cut him off before he could finish.

“No, Bucky, you don’t” you shot back at him, your voice rising with each word. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it was like, not know where you went, or if you were alive or dead, or if you’d even come back,”

His jaw once again clenched, “I waited over 90 years for you to come into my life,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion and vulnerability.

Your eyes widened at his admission, you were both surprised and in disbelief, “But yet, you only waited three months before jumping into bed with someone else,” you accused, voice thick with bitterness. “How was your night of Battleship, by the way?”

His hands balled into fists on top of the table, his voice raised to match yours. “Firstly, I didn’t sleep with her,” he retorted. “And secondly, what the fuck is this?” he gestures toward your date as he started to make his way back out of the restroom.

“I’m sorry,” your date now interrupts your conversation with Bucky as she makes his way back over to you. “I didn’t know you two are exes,”

“He’s not my ex!”

“She’s not my ex!”

Alone in the dimly lit apartment, you allowed yourself to have a moment to rest, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths. The weight of your date pressing down on your shoulders. Surprisingly, he asked for a second date. Once Bucky had left, he offered to take you out again another time. You happily agreed.

As you began to drift into a state of relaxation, the sound of the television caught your attention. “... it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.”

“What the fuck?!”

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #fatws!bucky x agent!reader #fatws bucky #fatws #fatws au

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mxtantrights · 27 days

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Omg, girl!! Im the one who requested the "enemies" to lovers with Jason Todd one, and GIRL. I loved it. Was better than i was expecting. Please, write part two!( kiss scene? Hehe)Or a whole Bible if you want. Honestly, i only said a "quick" one because i was trying to be polite, didn't want to push or anything lol.

Anyway, thank you for writing my request!!

thank you soo much!! <333 this is a second parter to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. hope you enjoy it as much as I liked continuing it!!

The kiss happens in two parts. Not to say that you can carefully dissect it into two parts, but that the kiss almost happens once and then it finally does, kind of.

Once when the two of you are on mission. In a slimy dive bar in some redacted location. You've been following your mark all day and ended up here. He's slinging back cheap shots of an off brand liquor as you and Red watch from the roof of the place.

He's been followed all day and hasn't made you once, which is a good thing. Or a bad thing. So you and Red decide to switch it up. There was no need to drag it out any longer. You could confront him and get the info you needed.

That was the plan.

Until the two of you were about to corner your mark. You were waiting on the street and Red was on the other side of it. It was going well until all of a sudden he met up with a familiar face. Falcone. Red pulled off his side of the street quickly and met up with you.

He doesn't say much. He doesn't say anything at all as he takes your arm and drags you around the wall of a store. You have half the mind to question him but you don't. Until he starts taking off the bottom part of his mask.

You try to stop him, but he crowds into your space. He whispers a very clear apology for being too close to you. And then he explains that him being here, would be a dead give away to Falcone. He might blow up whatever plans he has.

Both of you can hear them walking your way. And the only thing you can think of is apologizing to Red before fitting his fcae right into your neck. In the darkness of the night no one can really see his helmet. Or both of your suits.

They walk by without any second thought to the two of you. And you wait about five seconds before telling Red he was okay to pick his head up from your neck.

The drive to he motel was awkward to say the least.

The second time is when you're in the middle of changing in said motel. It's the last night of the mission. You're just about ready to go home to your comfortable bed and front door that has more than one lock.

Red is in a room on this floor. But the two of you haven't run into each other outside of your masks. It's weird. Like weird as in, it probably should have happened by now, but it hasn't. You think to yourself maybe the universe isn't ready to answer that question yet.

With a towel wrapped around your body you're about to start changing into your sleep wear when you hear something odd. A pop coming from outside. Then another one.

You grab your firearm and go over to the door. You look through the peep hole and see nothing. But you know you heard something. So you open the door , just to peek your head out. And at the right time too.

All of a sudden you see a tall man, white streak of hair, coming your way. He's wearing sweatpants and a black muscle tee. Once he makes eye contact with you, he starts running your way. You don't have time to close the door before he's standing in your face begging you to kiss him.

He's out a breath, and he's practically begging at this point. You're not about to kiss a random man. But when you hear the following footsteps you know he is in danger.

So you agree. And this guy apologizes to you in advance as he leans you against your door and cradles the back of your head with his hand. You almost sort of melt into the kiss. Just for a second. only for a second actually.

Because you realize, the way this man just apologized for what he was about to do, is the same way Red apologized to you the other night. And your brain feels like it's on fire because you realize this isn't some random man. This is Red.

This is Red and you know what he looks like. And he definitely knows it you because your'e the same person he saved in the alleyway in Gotham. Coincidences like that don't happen. Especially when you kind of hinted at it with the first word you said to him as a civilian.

🏷️ @12134z03

#dc x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb #dc blurbs #dc imagine #dc #Jason todd

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fantimati · 4 months

Text

"Venti sus"- list of things that makes Venti (and Mondstadt) incredibly weird and suspicious

Venti is talking to Aether in the Webtoon. This takes place before the game since Aether's elemental signifier thingys are black. But it's also much later then Vanessa's time since he is wearing the outfit he has in game. We do not know if this is the abyss sibling or the traveler.

Aether asks if entering Celestia makes you a god. Venti completely dodges the question.

Venti then proceeds to list several irl gods and genesis myths as "in distant worlds". This gives him a meta aspect similar to alice

Speaking of Alice, he knows her well enough that he helped set up a summer vacation for her daughter and her friends. Twice.

He is also on good terms with the hexenzirkel. A group that includes Gold Rhinedottir, the woman that had made at least 2 nation destroying abyssal dragons and rift wolves.

When he's waking up he has the same effects as Vennessa turning into a falcon. He is even briefly seen as a bird .

This sigil seen here is also seen in liyue (I cannot for the life of me find a picture but yeah), in stormterror's lair and his hold skill

He only wakes up when something bad is happening ie: the cataclysm, Lawrence clan's rule, dvailn. So... why is he still awake

HIS HELLO VOICE LINE???

"*Yawn* That was a refreshing sleep. Ah, Traveler, we meet again! What? You don't remember me? Ahaha, well, allow me to join you on your quest once again. I must see to it that the bards of the world tell the Traveler's tales!"

That's not what he said in the archon quest???? When does this take place??? Why would Venti expect them to remember him and why don't they???

He straight up god infected by the Abyss. He's fine. I don't think it's ever mentioned again.

Why is his statue the one being hung like that

Venti is mentioned in a letter in the Chasam. IN LATIN

Currently the only god who has wings other then the statue of the omnipresent god and Phanes

Was friends with the tsarista before the cataclysm. The had a falling out afterwards

Used to be worshiped alongside Istaroth

Mondstadt has TWO descendents of Khaenri'ah, Albedo and Keaya.

The base of the statue in Mondstadt reads, "Gateway to Celestia"

The hands of Barbatos' statue points directly to the spiral abyss portal

#genshin impact #venti

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creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate.

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact.

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either.

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback.

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case.

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks.

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously.

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears.

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead.

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him.

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away.

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice.

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch.

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball.

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact.

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you.

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list.

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one.

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him.

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like.

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.”

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn.

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom.

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home.

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more.

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why.

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights.

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment.

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions.

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body.

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself.

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent.

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done.

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack.

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again.

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback.

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before.

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes.

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion.

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with.

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more.

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house.

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch.

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.)

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home.

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him.

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day.

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book.

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak.

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous.

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly.

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze.

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving.

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you.

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression.

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette.

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought.

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation.

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants.

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation.

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise.

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer.

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality.

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot.

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it.

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought.

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you.

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you.

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift.

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting.

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision.

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice.

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home.

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either.

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts.

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently.

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge.

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him.

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees.

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight.

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go.��

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you.

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you.

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch.

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window.

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning.

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake.

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare.

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan.

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now?

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks.

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end.

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy.

He loves it.

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly.

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth.

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

#haikyuu #fanfic #fanfiction #hq #haikyu #haikyu!!#smut #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #yandere haikyuu #sakusa smut #dark content #sakusa dark content #itachiyama #msby bj #msby sakusa

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barrenclan · 1 year

Photo

“Issue #22: A Favor for a Favor”

Here it finally is! You can sort of think of this issue as the mid-season finale, if the whole of PATFW was a one-season show. I have been waiting to do this one for a very long time, and I wanted to make sure it was exactly how I pictured it. There are a ton of reveals and plot progressions in this issue, so keep it all in mind as we move forward!

Also, with this issue, PATFW is officially halfway over. Can you believe that? It feels like just yesterday that I started this project.

So much to talk about, but I won’t clog up this description. I’ll at least say that Ranger and Hacksaw are some of my absolute favorite characters from this story, and I love them dearly. For clarification’s sake, Ranger is a coyote and Hacksaw is a peregrine falcon. You can now view their tags for posts I’ve made about them in the past, along with Saturn.

Dustfeather was previously completely buried, as you can see in Issue 17, but winds combined with Saturn’s burrowing exposed her body to the open, where any remaining choice meat was picked off by crows (and Saturn).

In the last panel, the flowers surrounding Deepdark are wisteria, oleander, and black lilies. All of them are poisonous to animals.

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blueberrypancakesworld · 3 months

Text

Never wake a sleeping Dragon - Yan!Viserys x fem!reader

warning : yandere, obsession, implied overprotective, mentioning of death/war, hurt/comfort , fluff, kissing

Summary : Visery the king in him is the burning blood of the dragon. A thing that most of the people around him tend to forget he is "the peaceful" however when a new Queen is needed a heir for the kingdom the dragon awakes when a storm is starting to geather and obsession is forged. He will not let her get away from his dragon dream.

Info : Never imagined that I would be writting for Viserys but I like the idea of a quiete yandere type that goes full obsession when his love tries to flee. Afterall he is a Targaryen and everytime a Targaryen is born the coin decides the fate ;) And Paddy looks good so yeah....have fun;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~

The King of the Seven Kingdoms Viserys, peacefully the first of his name, was the ruler of King's Landing and all the lands. A man who had ridden one Balerion to the Black Death, the mighty beast that had been dead for decades. A man who was always eyed, especially by his brother.

Daemon, the only prince of the realm and his younger brother, on the other hand, was the picture of a Targaryen. Quick-tempered, insanely brutal and lusting after blood and fire. But his brother Viserys was peaceful, enjoying the simple pleasures of music, jousting and building stone decorations.

The sleeping dragon was what his enemies, the common people and the king's court called him. A dragon on a throne who slept and sent his brother and troops instead of unleashing his wrath.

A man who mourned all his lost children with his first wife Aemma Arryn until his only child Rhaenyra was born. The princess of the realm of the rich and handsome.

The beautiful image of her mother and the fieriness of her uncle Daemon who was devoted to his niece. The dragon was happy for some time, his dream, his dragon dreams had shown him a son, another prince, and when his wife became pregnant again, the queen gave birth to the son Baelon through the blood of the falcon and the dragon.

The king was filled with joy, but this was to be taken from him. His own wife condemned to death, his son dead and his daughter turning away from him in her own grief, he had lost everything.

He had lost his flames, his dragons and seemed completely alone. Alone in his chambers, just himself and the dim fire in the fireplace, the unfinished Valyria and the wine at the table. The dragon seemed to have lost his own.

The gaze of the violet eyes of the tired, haggard man had turned away from the fireplace and was looking at the picture of his wife, the painting he had had painted.

Until a knock at the door made him look up. ,,Away!" he had said loud enough for the person to disappear but when his door opened he placed the portrait on his bed and rose to confront the intruder.

The glow inside him seemed to spark and he wanted to be alone. ,,I said I want to be alone!" he hissed and was about to reach for his sword when he saw a woman a little older than his daughter, a lady in waiting, a then still young chick from his wife, the rest of her.

He vaguely remembered her from his grief, how she chose her ladies in waiting, how the ladies enjoyed themselves and spent time together. But after her death they were all gone, he had given them money and sent them back to their families, except for her.

She stayed, her relatives died in the battles in the kingdoms. She was the lady of the house without a seat without a stay and now the only lady-in-waiting who held on to Aemma.

,,My lady… what can I do?" He asked, his voice no longer angry but tired and exhausted. He sat back in the armchair and covered his face with his hands. ,,My king? Lord Hand has instructed me to bring you some food," he heard her voice, still caring for him despite his suffering.

Her king. She should be mourning her kings friend. What sacrifice from such a woman he thought and raised his eyes to her dark black dress. Grief. Saw her coming towards him a moment before he waited for her to sit next to him on the chair.

They had not seen each other since the funeral of his Aema and Baelon, days in which he had not seen her. His Aemma-no, her smile. ,,That's very kind of you…do you mind staying?" he asked her and it seemed to him that as the king, the man with the most power, he was asking her permission.

He saw how she didn't hesitate, how there was only a brief flash of uncertainty about his well-being. ,,Of course, here's some tea from the Maestar," she said and Viserys shifted in his seat even though he was only wearing his loose shirt and trousers, the jewelry on his body made him look better.

Putting on his expensive clothes, however, meant going back out there, following the sad eyes to a throne without her. Glancing at her, his violet eyes watched as she handed him the plate of bread and eggs, the bacon still warm, and he felt his stomach actually craving food.

Only wine and drugged flowers were not food, at least not what he was supposed to have. Until suddenly he heard a cry of pain and wheeled around to face her. Almost throwing the plate aside, he saw that the boiling water had splashed on her hand by coming up in the goblet. ,,Wait," he said hastily and took the cup from her hand and the pot.

The vapor, the heat showing effect on her hand red hot and hurting her. Like the flame of a dragon. ,,It's… all right Viserys," she pressed out, tears in her eyes saying something else and at that moment he didn't feel helpless, not intimidated. He was alive. The fascination, his dream.

The fire, his son. ,,Burned by fire-I mean, did you burn yourself very badly? Wait, I'll get something," he said, feeling his thoughts racing as he rose from her, she would end up making the dream real, replacing his imagination. This woman in smoke and flames?

He fetched a pain-relieving ointment from his bedside cabinet and came back to her, seeing how she had pulled out her handkerchief to dry her tears, but the trembling of her hands made it rather sluggish. ,,Thank you Vis-forgive me my King but you don't have to" she insisted as she watched in panic as the King knelt before her, his hands gently and lovingly taking the cloth and wiping away her tears.

His violet eyes did not leave hers and he saw this dream more and more clearly as she looked at him with respect, gratitude and something he could not interpret. Something he was only told later by his brother. Fear.

,,Please, I insist that your tears should not be shed any more. A gentle healing as opposed to the flames," he murmured, pleased when he saw that she had stopped crying and gave him a grateful look. Applying the slab to the wound the burning disappeared after a few minutes the warmth remained but the fast beating heart in her chest from the shock was slow to recover.

,,Thank you my king… I should go, my presence disturbs the mourners" she replied to him and rose from her seat, the handkerchief falling into his hands before she hurried to the door. The flower in the face of the sleeping dragon, the pretty coin unused and still open to a hand.

As if possessed by something else, he reached for her hand and held it, not wanting her to leave. ,,My lady, please… I expect you to stay with me," the words of the tone that was a command left his lips at the same time. She had no chance of escaping from this room and the flower had no choice but to give up her pretty goodness to him of her own free will. She came back to him, sat down next to him and stayed with him.

She kept her king company as he commanded and for the first time something like joy, devotion and perhaps love seemed to return to the king's heart.

It was a feeling that had consequences, for in the days and weeks that followed, this feeling was transformed into something found in the Targaryen madness. As the blood of the dragons flowed, the king felt a sense of ownership.

She was his possession and for the first time the dragon in him seemed to stir and finally get rid of the name of the peaceful one.

Something his lovely counterpart had no idea what it meant to face a Targaryen.

The next few days and weeks changed to a different rhythm. Instead of Alicent, the daughter of the hand, the king always had the lady called to him, seeking her company at any given time.

In the morning at his breakfast, he had her called to him, his violet eyes showing joy when he saw her figure, the tip of her nightgown sticking out from under her dark robe.

,,My king, you wanted to see me again," she said and joined him at the table where she sat down opposite him. She knew that he was lonely, her beloved Aeamm was dead and she felt guilty for giving comfort to the king as well as the princess and heiress.

The princess Rhaenyra without a mother, who had often come to her, had taken her lovingly in her arms and cried together while they had been more closely connected. But Viserys felt almost uncomfortable in the face of the dragon.

Rhaenyra the young dragoness her warmth was healing but his fire was burning. She had always liked to be there for her king and somehow also a friend, but now it seemed like the stories in the Masters' books. Every Targaryen is a dragon and a dragon obsessively searches for its treasure to guard.

But something told her that Viserys would gradually fall for this side of the infamous coin. Something she was right about and yet she had no idea how far this would go.

The pair's breakfast was quiet as she saw the king's smile, something that made her happy inside, but as the days and weeks wore on, the dragon's fire seemed to tighten around her. When she was not with Rhaenyra, Alicent or her own advisors for her house, she was always seen with Viserys.

The dragon took the first step when he got up one evening after dinner and fetched a box big enough to store several things in. ,,My dear, I want to thank you for everything you have given me in the last few weeks…I could finally smile again and feel something special," he began and opened the gift of a dress and a necklace for her.

,,Viserys this is a sign of unbelievable craftsmanship I can't accept this" she said and turned away the fear that he would command her again was there but the fear of losing her king and husband of her beloved friend and queen into this darkness again no she couldn't do that. Wasn't it everyone's duty to keep the king happy no matter what the cost?

But the blond Targaryen would not be beaten, he had not just let her body mass give way to images.

He had taken her as far as he could from the outside. With the dress, the fabric he had chosen, the necklace of the best metal of Valyrian steel and the ruby, he would touch her for all to see and make her his. ,,But I insist, my love, on a dress as a token of my gratitude for what you have done," he continued, handing her the fabric, a look of shame on her face as she realized he wanted her to try it on.

Looking around, however, she saw that he must have taken precautions because a partition carved out of fine wood with dragon motifs and legends stood in the room that had not been there before. ,,Please, I insist," he said, not necessarily emphatically, but she knew what he meant.

She could not ignore an order from the king. The fabric of the dark dress was surprisingly warm, like the scales of a dragon, and even if he no longer had Balerion, she knew he could have taken any dragon that was still alive or about to hatch.

His violet eyes lay on the wood seeming to peer through it to see her soft body and the dragon's violet eyes showed lust and devotion as she stepped forward a few minutes later.

,,I-I look like a Targaryen," she murmured, the dark black dress with the red embroidery of a dragon and the finest gold escaping her thoughts. It was not the colors of her house, it was not the color of her Aemma, its colors were the colors of King Viserys Targaryen.

He came up to her and circled her, running his hand carefully over the fabric, ,,Handsome and beautiful," he murmured the words of praise before he stopped behind her and she heard the faint tinkling of metal as she listened to the chain.

She held her breath as she felt the cold Valyrian steel around her neck and ran her fingers over it. ,,A Targaryen you will be too for I have decided my love I want you as my new wife as the new Targaryen Queen" he said taking her hands and for the first time she saw his own madness of the dragon flicker in his eyes.

A will of the King a will that made her cry because even though she liked him and had certain feelings for him, a marriage, becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the responsibility that came with it to bear him children was true.

She couldn't say yes but that's how he knew he could force her…and he did. The first traces of his obsession with his madness were laid the day he married her in the tradition of his house.

The tradition she could not escape. And even if only years later he married his second wife Alicent, the story of the Dance of the Dragons would play out as it was foretold, until then his madness with his second wife his flower was the only thing that mattered.

Her colors of the house long forgotten only reflected in the ring her mother had left her, the lands of her house given to a distant relative whose right to finally see his second niece was punished with wrath by the king.

Viserys for the first time any lords who even dared to question the second queen found themselves impaled on the castle walls, their tongues severed or burned by Syrax, Meyleys or Caraxes when the king ordered his kinsmen to do so.

,,All this because of a woman who doesn't even come from a significant house," she had heard Lord Corlys say, who was on his way back to Driftmark with his wife and the two of them had met with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The king himself knew from the trouble she was causing that lords and ladies were already looking around whispering about what was going on with the king.

,,Help me my lords my princess," she had dared to join the group, the dark colors on her now like an endless dragon pit where fire awaited her every night.

Viserys didn't let her out of his sight, she slept in his bed every night and even though she tried to love him, she was always trying to return the physical contact with kindness.

With each night, with each time, she saw more and more marks on her body that he left behind, not painfully, but she knew that the fabric of her clothes could hardly cover them any more. She had waited as the king released his anger on her kinsman and banished him from the city.

He had robbed her of her right to the title of Lady of the House. ,,Targaryen should marry houses from Valyria the simple flower perishes in fire" she had begged the group Rhaenyra who had asked her for help so many times had tried to help her.

But with every attempt they made to dragon, to bot or to escape with the carriage everything was blamed on a mysterious attenat by the four of them.

But every attempt failed, and the kingdoms watched as the news of Alicent Hightower's second pregnancy spread through the realms with joy in this delight to the fear of Corly, Rhaenys, Rhaenyra and Daemon Visery's second wife.

First Aemma Arryn died the second wife full of mysteries and strange events the jewel of the king which suddenly disappeared and the third wife who brought peace and war for the future.

But what they all didn't know was that in the depths of the castle, when the king went down with the torch in his hand, he went further in than even his brother probably knew.

The old forgotten Valyrian part and influence revealed itself. ,,My dear, I'm back…did you like the metal?" he asked as he walked through the common room past the cells where he had spiked her after her four "attacks". He wasn't stupid he knew that his own daughter and brother had tried to "save" her with his cousin and her husband.

He knew that they did not approve of this marriage, neither politically nor personally, she had only wanted to return to her home to the last people she had left.

Her friendship with Rhaenyra and Alicent was over. Now she would never escape from the castle again, nor from him

Pulling the key from his robe, he unlocked the large door to the cell. The metal gave way and the bolt was pushed back, which was once for the most serious criminals or the people most in need of protection.

It was the place where the king could finally turn to his true treasure. Not his daughter, his wife, his son or his brother. He was with her, with his true dream, with the woman who would bring him his son and promised prince.

Walking into the great room he saw his beloved his Targaryen the clothes he had brought her the clothes he had given her all in the black and red of the house the jewelry, books and paintings were to entertain her when he was not there. When the dragon didn't come to her in his madness, she prayed almost every night and even though time passed, her belly didn't swell.

No child wanted to grow inside her, but no, it wasn't her fault, it was something else he was sure of. Because when he took her, the shadows of her dragon reflected on the wall and the sounds of her love echoed through the room, he knew that the prince had to spring from her womb.

,,My pretty wife... tell me, how are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to her armchair, where she sat, as always, in front of the fireplace with a book on her lap and an absent look in her eyes.

Fear had been reflected in it at first, but after an indefinite time every house broke under the dragon sooner or later. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, cold and not warm like him, the smile that played around his lips threatening to tip over. The madness only ever lasted until a dragon was no longer entertained.

The grip on her hands tightened for a moment, becoming painful until she finally looked at him. ,,Viserys...you're back...how did it go?" she asked as usual, obviously pretending to him that she was still living on the Hoffe with the others. As if she was always waiting for an opportunity to leave.

But they both knew that she would never leave this room again. ,,The lords are satisfied for a while, don't worry my queen, tell me how your prince is doing" and he put his hand on her flabby belly where even after the countless nights of trying. In trying, she had tried to see all this as a story, a book of the lost maiden who would finally be free when she gave birth to the king's son.

But it seemed that with each passing month everything would become less warm, the fire in the fireplace not warm, the clothes on her no color and his love was the madness of the dragon she had never seen so strong. ,,I try my king every tincture, every meal...even the old books but I don't carry your seed" she murmured and looked at him the violet of his eyes just like Rhaenyras and Daemon's she missed the court, her friends and the sun.

Now she would never be able to escape from the castle or from him. Pulling the key from his robe, he unlocked the large door to the cell. The metal gave way and the bolt was pushed back, which was once for the most serious criminals or the people most in need of protection.

When the dragon didn't come to her in his madness, she prayed almost every night and even though time passed, her belly didn't swell. No child wanted to grow inside her, but no, it wasn't her fault, it was something else he was sure of.

Because when he took her, the shadows of her dragon reflected on the wall and the sounds of her love echoed through the room, he knew that the prince had to spring from her womb.

,,My pretty wife... tell me, how are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to her armchair, where she sat, as always, in front of the fireplace with a book on her lap and an absent look in her eyes. Fear had been reflected in it at first, but after an indefinite time every house broke under the dragon sooner or later.

He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, cold and not warm like him, the smile that played around his lips threatening to tip over. The madness only ever lasted until a dragon was no longer entertained.

The grip on her hands tightened for a moment, becoming painful until she finally looked at him. ,,Viserys...you're back...how did it went?" she asked as usual, obviously pretending to him that she was still living on the Hoffe with the others. As if she was always waiting for an opportunity to leave.

But they both knew that she would never leave this room again. ,,The lords are satisfied for a while, don't worry my queen, tell me how your prince is doing" and he put his hand on her flat belly where even after the countless nights of trying. In trying, she had tried to see all this as a story, a book of the lost maiden who would finally be free when she gave birth to the king's son.

,,I try my king every tincture, every meal...even the old books but I don't carry your seed" she murmured and looked at him the violet of his eyes just like Rhaenyras and Daemon's she missed the court, her friends and the sun.

Viserys let out a disappointed sigh he knew it wasn't because of her she never did she was young and of Targaryen blood there had to be a child someday. His hand went from her leg to her hands and took the book from her, his specially chosen book on Valyria.

She knew that ever since he had given her the keldi that he had made her into something. A Targayren tried to transform her in one way and another. His hand slid gently over hers, its softness stimulating, it was something like another time.

But when his other hand slid down from her flat, bare belly and stroked the fabric of her legs, she knew exactly what he wanted. What he was here for almost every time. His initial gentleness soothing the kisses, hugs, gifts and caresses.

But his other way the coin that was thrown this madness was burning. ,,I know you're trying my love and I'll be there for you...for our child" he said softly as he lifted her out of the chair and gave her a kiss.

His warmth burned on her like a fire but it was the only thing she felt that was still real as she returned the kiss. her arms slowly wrapped around him, clinging to the dragon's scales, her knees to his wings, feeling the warmth of his fire as he gently stroked the kelid from her body.

The dragon laid her on the tower of coins, the bed of old wood carved with signs of Valyria. His gestures, words and pain the lust mingled with the pain. But she seemed to react to him again after a long time, to finally feel that burning sensation inside her.

But she looked at him saw the dragon the madness and perhaps it was because of the flames of the fireplace that she saw Balerion the black dread in the shadows, Viserys rising as the dragon Valyrias.

She herself was seized by the fire when she felt him again, as she did every night. But this time it was different it seemed the uncertainty was burned out of her the house she once belonged to the name was irrelevant.

She mattered as his queen...as the woman who would bear the promised prince to the king. Perhaps she herself had fallen into the madness of the Targayren before all this, and now rose as a dragon from the flames.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #house of the dragon #king viserys #viserys targaryen #viserys the peaceful #viserys x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #reader is female #yandere

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months

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I Got You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: Y/N gets kidnapped by HYDRA and Bucky saves her.

Warnings: Fluff, language, HYDRA, kidnapping, blood and bruises, crying, hugs and kisses, cuddling, Bucky being the best/protective boyfriend ever, use of pet names

A/N: This is based off a dream I had.

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

Bucky was pacing back and forth in the lounge room of the Avengers Compound, wondering why you are there yet. You told him that you would hangout at the Compound while he trains for an upcoming mission.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asks, walking in the room.

“I’m worried about Y/N.” Bucky says.

“Did something happen to her?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Bucky says, running his fingers through his hair.

Natasha walks in the lounge room with a phone in her hand.

“Barnes, someone’s on the phone for you.” Natasha says, handing him the phone.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking the phone from her. If it’s you, you would’ve called his phone.

“Hello?” Bucky answers.

“Didn’t take long to get ahold of you, Winter Soldier.” The man says in a Russian accent.

“What the hell do you want?” Bucky asks.

“It’s more like who I have.” The man chuckles. “Meaning, your precious doll.” He says.

Bucky felt his heart drop and his mind started racing. He began thinking the worst.

“I swear if you do anything to her. I’ll-” Bucky got interrupted.

“You’ll what, Soldat? Kill me? That wouldn’t do you any good if you want to find your best girl alive.” The man says and hung up.

Bucky stood there frozen as the line went dead. His blood began to boil. He shoved the phone in Natasha’s hand and went to find Steve. Sam and Natasha looked at each other in confusion before following Bucky.

“Steve, get your shield.” Bucky says, walking in the conference room.

“Why?” Steve asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Barnes, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?” Natasha asks.

“HYDRA. They have Y/N.” He tells them.

“What did he say?” Sam asks.

“That they have Y/N and that’s it.” He explained. “I really need to find her.” He says, tears brimming his eyes.

“We’ll find her, Buck.” Steve says softly, putting a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

Meanwhile, you woke up to the feeling of your head pounding. You moved to get up, only to find out that you were strapped down to a chair, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“I was wondering when you would going to wake up. I was beginning to think that one of my men struck you too hard and killed you.” A man’s voice said.

You looked up, seeing a bunch of people surround you.

“My name is-” You interrupted him.

“I don’t care what your fucking name is. Where the hell am I?” You asked.

You yelped when his hand smacked you across your face, hard enough to make your head turn. He gripped your jaw roughly and looked in your eyes.

“It’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.” He says.

He let go of your jaw and walked away for a moment before watching back towards you.

“Now, you know someone we want back.” He says.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” You lied, knowing that he’s talking about Bucky.

“Really? The name James Buchanan Barnes doesn’t sound familiar to you?” He asks.

“No.” You lied again.

“Liar!” He shouts, smacking you again causing you to whimper in pain. “You know who he is cause you’re wearing his Army dog tags!” He yells. “Where is he?” He asks.

“Fuck you!” You shouted. “He’d never come back to this hell hole!” You say.

The man chuckled before turning to two of his men.

“Take her to a cell.” He tells them.

They nodded and uncuffed you from the chair, carrying you down the hallway. You tried your best to fight them off, but their grip on you was too strong. The more you fought them, the tighter their grip got. When they got you to a cell, they threw you in there. You fell to the floor and hit your head causing you to whimper in pain. You put a hand on the spot where you hit your head, feeling a little bit of blood trickling into your hand. You sat against the wall in the corner of the cell, pulling your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them.

“Bucky, where are you? Please hurry.” You say to yourself, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were on their way to you. Bucky tugging at his hair and was pacing back and forth in the quinjet, feeling like he was losing his mind. Bucky’s mind immediately started thinking the worst.

“Buck…” Steve snaps Bucky out of his thoughts. “We’re going to find her.” He says.

“What if we don’t? It’ll be my fault for not saving her.” Bucky says.

“None of this is your fault and you know it. Y/N knows it too.” He says softly, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I can’t lose her, Steve. She’s the love of my life. I won’t survive without her.” He tells his best friend with tears in his eyes.

Steve gave Bucky a hug.

“I’m sorry to break up your moment, but we’re at the base.” Sam informs the Super Soldiers. “Are you ok, man?” He asks Bucky.

“I will be when I get the love of my life back.” Bucky says.

Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha got off of the quinjet and cautiously approached the base, finding an unlocked door. They went inside of the base and split up so they could find you. You jumped at the sound of an alarm and gunshots. You stayed in the corner of the room, continuing to hug your knees. The next thing you knew, the door was kicked down causing you to cover your head in fear and your heartbeat to pick up. Bucky carefully approached you, making sure to not scare you.

“Doll, it’s Bucky.” Bucky says softly.

You uncovered your head and looked up, seeing your boyfriend. You immediately stood up and hugged him, breaking down into tears. Bucky held you tightly in his arms, tears escaping his eyes.

“You’re ok. I got you, babydoll.” He whispers.

He pulled away from the hug to kiss you passionately. Bucky felt relieved, knowing that you’re ok.

“I’m so happy that you’re alive.” Bucky says in almost a whisper, looking deep in your eyes.

He kissed you once more before informing Steve, Sam, and Natasha that he found you and you’re alive and safe. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet, taking you to the Compound. Bucky helped you get cleaned up and patched you up, kissing each one of your injuries. Luckily you sustained minor injuries. Bucky has not left your side in the past few days. He helped you through a nightmare when you woke up crying. He held you close to him and you guys watched movies to get your mind off of everything. He even made coffee for you in the morning.

“How’s Y/N doing?” Steve asks Bucky.

“Last night, she had a nightmare and woke up crying.” Bucky tells them.

“She’s going to get through this, Bucky.” Natasha says, putting a comforting hand on his right arm.

“We’re here for her if she needs anything.” Sam says.

“Thanks, guys.” Bucky smiles at them.

Everyone went quiet when you walked in the kitchen. You smiled softly at them, playing with one of the sleeves of your -Bucky’s- sweatshirt.

“You ok, doll?” Bucky asks, handing you your coffee and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m fine. I just got lonely.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

Bucky held you close to him and kissed the top of your head.

“I wanted to tell you guys thank you for helping Bucky save me.” You say.

“We’d do it again.” Steve says with a smile.

“We’re here for you, Y/N.” Natasha says.

“We’re just happy that you’re ok.” Sam says.

You gave them a smile. They left the kitchen, giving you and Bucky time alone.

“Thank you for saving me, Bucky.” You say, looking up at him.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll. I will save you no matter what.” Bucky says softly with a smile.

Bucky took your coffee from your hands and put it on the counter. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Bucky is so happy to have his best girl back. He’s going to do everything he can to protect you. One thing’s for sure, he’s never letting you out of his sight again.

“I love you so much, doll.” Bucky says softly, moving a piece of your hair from your face.

“I love you more, Buck.” You say in almost a whisper, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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dollwrites · 14 days

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ’s ᴡɪғᴇ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴋᴜʀᴇ ʀᴀɪᴀɴ

𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 ∣ MINORS DNI!! this is a teaser for my newest raian fic !! that is exclusively for my patreon members <3 this fic and others are accessible through the falcon tier ( $5 a month )

“Wash the blood off of yourself, first….” it was the first time you’d made any sort of demand of him, and it came out low and hopeful, lacking confidence. your palm flattens against his chest, attempting to hold him steady and allow him no further purchase. if he’d wanted to, he could’ve easily overpowered you, but he pauses, his brow quirking. your eyes trail along his black tank top. beyond the fabric stretching tight over his developed muscles, it was soaked and reeked of old blood. he left blood smears on the white of the sheets and against your complexion.

“Eh?” Raian challenges, gripping your wrist tighter. any tighter and the bones that were bending against the pressure would snap, and he just wanted to remind you of that. “Thought you knew by now that I don’t give a shit about your weak constitution. Lay back and open up.”

but, you stood your ground. biting your lower lip, your palm presses harder against his chest, feeling his heart pumping below your fingertips. it was endearing to know that there was still a pulse under all that cruelty. your eyes harden as much as you can muster, and you slip your knee between his body and your own, pressing it against his abdomen. of course, if he so desired, he could pin you to the bed and take what he wanted anyways, but he’d said himself that he didn’t want a timid wife. his sceleras were abysmal, golden brows furrowing for a moment before a devilish smirk etches his mouth upwards. as if to force you to remember that he still called the shots, his hand slipped between your thighs and he cupped your sex roughly through your panties, fingers pressing hard on your button. letting out a little mew, you almost submit to him, before he whispers harshly, “Keep that pussy dripping until I get back.”

READ IT ON PATREON !!

#kure raian #Kure raian x reader #kure raian x you #kure raian smut #raian #raian x reader #raian x you #raian smut #kenganverse #kengan ashura #Kengan omega #Kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura smut

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archipithecus · 9 months

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Friends at the Table is a podcast focused on critical worldbuilding, smart characterization, fun interaction between good friends, and asking "what if X was Y? what if W could do Z?"

anyways here's a non-comprehensive selection of some times FatT asked good hypotheticals

(spoilers for Autumn in Heiron, Marielda, Winter in Heiron, COUNTER/Weight, Twilight Mirage, Sangfielle, and some Bluff City i think) (i know Spring, Partizan, and Palisade must also have good "what if X was Y?" but i'm still catching up) (this got way long so i'm putting it behind a readmore) (shoutout to Search at the Table at https://curiosity.cat-girl.gay/ for letting me do this) (also to Transcripts at the Table for writing this all down in the first place)

KEITH: What if I was a snow...hawk… ART: What if you're like, a Dr. Seuss animal? KEITH: Yeah! What if I was a star-bellied sneetch?

KEITH: (laughing) What if the bird was a can opener!

AUSTIN (as Zaktrak): It's like, what if a, what if a factory or train or a windmill could read a book?

AUSTIN (CONT.): And then he, he looks up, he actually has like a very… his build is kind of like, angular and… not thin in terms of like, weak? But he has a sort of… androgynous character about him, in terms of his like, what you would think of as like his body structure. And… very beautiful blue eyes. He’s sort of like, what if David Bowie was super black.

AUSTIN: And that's kind of like, the picture you get of her, is like, What if Fero was like, 30% less hyperactive? Still way more hyperactive than everybody else in-- the world? (laughter) but like, just a little more in tune, with the world.

AUSTIN: What if fire was matte?

ART: What if a—what if a 90s after school special needed some graffiti

AUSTIN: Yeah. He asks you, um... watching what unfolds, and there's, there's, it's--and this is the fuckin' nerdiest thing I'm ever gonna say; it's like what if A-ha's Take On Me was an AMV? Was an anime music video?

AUSTIN: Ali’s character, how did she describe her character, “what if Han Solo used to be Beyonce?”

AUSTIN: It’s like, what if the American government was just another American company?

AUSTIN: It’s like what if holograms did gifs, basically?

ART: You how like Han Solo’s always talking to the Millenium Falcon, but what if the Millenium Falcon-- AUSTIN: Could talk back? ART: Had a chance of, yeah, of deciding he was angry.

SYLVIA: For example. Like just p - yeah, what if they have psychic assassins there. Oh! What if this planet’s an alien? What if this planet is a psychic assassin? Which is a great sentence I just said.

AUSTIN: Yeah, I should note that this is also like "What if the Super Bowl was attended by high fashion models?", right?

AUSTIN: We don’t get a lot of elderly non-binary people. And so Saint Auger is like, what if someone you knew from Portland was 82?

AUSTIN: It’s almost like, what if a crown could be a dunce cap?

AUSTIN: It's like- what if there was a really enterprising twelve year old, who like, [laughs] made a physiology- uh, person- a physiology like, model, but with dirt and rocks and sticks. Also there's no face, the face is also just one of this solid black rock plates.

AUSTIN: And again, there’s just light streaming in through—I think this room is mostly, like, does not have a huge window, but it does have little eyelet windows at the top of the, towards the ceiling, that run horizontally along the room, and just like, bright—it’s almost like, what if colour could be shadow? Do you know what I mean? Like, what if instead of it being that a shadow crosses your face, it is this prismatic glow that moves across the group of you as this thing crawls around this space station.

AUSTIN: It’s like white and blue, there are stars, it- you know, I think that the- it’s, it looks like the way you might imagine like, what if the UN had spaceships?

AUSTIN: What if you mixed your- your selfhood, with the notion of wings. Or the notion of flight. Not just flying. That’s where we’re going.

AUSTIN: This giant battleship that’s like ‘what if a millipede instead of legs had guns and what if it was all around it’?

AUSTIN: This thing is like the size of like a major city. This thing is like, what if Manhattan was a battleship. And instead of buildings it had guns. Except now they’re made of weird black glass.

AUSTIN: The first time he showed up I described him as what if Canderous Ordo decided to have a robot body one day? And slowly began to replace it.

AUSTIN: There’s a little— Yes, it’s like what if a cow— what if Christian Slater was playing a cowboy from New Jersey, and also was Canderous Ordo. And also he eats through his hands.

AUSTIN: There is just this like… I think it’s just metal unfolding across space. Like, at some point Volition just kind of spat out a, a, almost, it looks like a cloud of ink but instead of ink, it’s metal. And it’s just unfolding indefinitely in space like a huge— like what if Akira, what if at the end of Akira when Tetsuo turns into a weird flesh monster? It was that but various types of metal, just like bubbling all over the place throughout space, and I don’t know how you deal with that! But suddenly in the middle of the Mirage there is just this, this ink splatter, this, this gaseous, you know, spread of metal.

AUSTIN: And it’s like — again, it’s like a pistol — it’s like what if a pistol was also like a curved sword, like almost like a scimitar or something?

JANINE: What if we do a live show, but the only live show we ever do is at Bakucon?

ART: Um, let me tell you, this is a nice coat, you guys. Um, I think it’s sort of like what if… What if a leather duster jacket was like an ephemeral idea.

AUSTIN: It’s like … I think the way I described it was, what if there was a Companion Cube that could have its corners pulled apart and in the middle is a weird glowing sphere?

AUSTIN: He has this dope, like, “What if the Millenium Falcon was a deep V?” Instead of just that little bit at the top, it goes really deep down. Or like, “What if Pacman was really long?” You know what I mean?

AUSTIN: Okay. You find him like, rolled under the bottom of his, uhh, or like on a, it’s not rolled under, he’s on like a little, like cart that has a pneumatic lift, or it’s like, it’s like a, it’s like a robot that walks around. It has like- it’s like a Boston Dynamics- like what if a Boston Dynamics, like four-legged robot was also a thing you laid on top of? Like one of those carts that goes underneath a car, to repair it. You know what I’m talking about?

AUSTIN (as Morning’s Observation): [exhales thoughtfully] Like what if milk was a solid.

AUSTIN: But it still has that ribbony-quality? [chuckles] It still has the sound of fabric rubbing on fabric? But is definitely amplified a great deal, probably? And also, we know it’s sharp, so there’s probably some… sharpness to it? You know… there’s probably, like… what if a ribbon could be a sword you pull out of a sheath?

AUSTIN: And also, Saint Sommer is a big lion man. Saint Sommer is, like… Skein. And is a big… a big… like, a big lion man. Not like Lion-o from Thundercats. Like… what if Scar could… had a big human body? Was, like… What if Scar was cut?

KEITH: And it sort of like, snap! Like, that, it's like… when we were talking about what the sound it makes, I was picturing… what if folding a blanket sounded like sheet metal?

AUSTIN: Yeah, yeah. I don’t know I think it’s like, I think this is very much like, what if the Venom symbiote was made of thread, right?

AUSTIN: So maybe it's like a- like imagine, what if a mop could just mop by itself.

AUSTIN: I won’t talk more about that stuff, but you already saw the big picture of “what if Connecticut was a space ocean,” so, you have at least some context there.

AUSTIN: It’s huge. It’s the size of a continent, right? It’s “What if South America was a big circle?” It’s “What if Europe and Eurasia was a big circle?”, constantly cast on this planet. And, you know, from space it kind of looks—not flat necessarily, right, because it’s a curved planet, it’s a sphere, or spherical, but, you know, it’s flat.

AUSTIN: It’s like what if Texas stood up.

AUSTIN (as Morning’s Observation): “What if cars brought things to you instead of bringing you to things?”

AUSTIN: It’s just like a very bright, colorful—like, what if Steven Universe did the Sailors of the Ark? What if that team did it? It’s very good.

AUSTIN: It’s like what if it’s a can opener that does that. Like a living can opener like. Grrrngaaah! I’m going fucking open holes in things! Grrngaah!

AUSTIN: Imagine that they're almost- in my mind they're like what if a martini shaker was a piston.

AUSTIN: It's like what if you could package a sunset, y'know? Into like a cube

AUSTIN: I can't believe we started this recording by looking at pies [KEITH and DRE laugh] that make me hurt and ended with ‘what if all foods could be jelly juice?’.

AUSTIN: I saw a big buffalo picture and I was like what if that was a person, that looks cool.

ART: But what if some of these skeletons are like, sick of this shit?

AUSTIN: I think I pitched this show as like: what if Ghost in the Shell but-but magic and witches instead of cyborgs and stuff?

JACK: So, out come this nascent organization who we’re calling Shapeknights. Who are -- I think the easiest way to say it is “cowboys for trains?” They are, like -- what if instead of the cowboy riding alongside the train on his horse, he was corralling the train? Or he was trying to understand the train, or was trying to --

ALI: I think Marn, herself is a little bit more like—like what if a capybara was a siamese cat?

KEITH: Yeah. So, I wholeheartedly recommend this movie, but if not, if you don't know what I'm talking about with the goggles, at least look at that. ‘Cause it's a good image. It's sort of like, what if you had a jeweler's loupe that had a jeweler's loupe that had a jeweler's loupe?

ART: It’s like, what if the antagonist won the Mummy movie right, this is what happens-

KEITH: What if instead of one, big, beautiful hat I have two small, beautiful hats?

KEITH: Like what if they made headphones just for being cool at a party?

KEITH: What if you make pizza by opening the box? That it was an empty box until you opened it.

AUSTIN: What if insects were made of teeth?

JACK: She’s the fuckin’ person of the train. She’s like what if a train could output a person.

KEITH: What if the train was a nice train?

ART: What if a Madame Tussauds came to life?

AUSTIN: What if fire could be a ghost?

AUSTIN: Looking through this here, sounds like what you wrote here was “What if a dolphin was like a velociraptor?”

AUSTIN: They’re hitched. Yeah, they've been hitched. Three of them have been hitched. And I said horse, but I want you to imagine is what if…what if a shrimp were a horse?

JACK: You sort of just like rise up the slope. It's a bit like what if a train was an escalator.

AUSTIN: What if Beyonce was Poison Ivy?

AUSTIN: All my cards on the table, Millennium Black is like what if Blade stopped being a vampire hunter and started being a casino owner.

AUSTIN: He's sort of like what if Alex Jones wasn't terrible

#friends at the table

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