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thevoidstaredback · 2 months

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It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

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cryptidghostgirl · 4 months

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The Guilt (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader)

Description: Y/n was the one person he never meant to kill, but Alastor didn't have a choice. Years later, much to his surprise, they run into one another in the depths of Pentagram City.

Warnings: Murder, cannibalism mentioned in a metaphoric sense. Un-detailed descriptions of rotting bodies.

Word Count: 2,701

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I just wanted to write something that has been stuck in my head for a hot minute since I've like only been doing requests the past couple days. I think the only ones I have left are ones that have been sent in since February 15th so I hope that is okay.

Alastor recognized her the minute he first saw her. It had been a year since his arrival in Hell and he was already making waves. Demons avoided him on the streets, shot him fearful glances over their shoulders. He enjoyed the privacy it afforded him, the padding of air around him.

He didn't pay the others mind, focused on his own goals and patterns of being. Friends, relationships, they were far from his top priority but still, Alastor recognized her the minute he first saw her.

In his years of blood soaked escapades in the world of the living, he had wreaked havoc on the world. In all those years, he had only ever made two mistakes. The first had been getting caught, getting killed by that hunter. The second? Had been killing that girl.

He hadn't had a choice. Normally, Alastor chose his victims carefully following a specific criteria. She had been an accident. He had gotten careless one night, cocky even in his streak of successes. Alastor had been transfixed, carving a man's intestines from the cavity of his stomach. The girl had had wide eyes, her mouth open. She had trembled.

Their eyes had met across the darkened street. She had clutched at her coat, pulling it tighter. She hadn't even tried to run.

Alastor never learned her name, avoided all reports on her disappearance and death like the plague. She haunted him. He saw her around corners, when he shut his eyes at night like a vengeful spirit. Always just staring at him with those big, knowing eyes. He didn't need more reminders, more facets of feeling, than he already had.

Alastor had recognized her the minute he first laid eyes on her in Hell. It had taken him a moment to realize she was real, she still looked so deeply human after all. He had never expected her to be here. He had never expected to see her again.

When he opened his eyes and she was still there, sitting placidly at the cafe table, it was like some uncontrollable force pulled him to her. He pulled out the spare chair, falling lazily into it. She looked up at the noise of metal against concrete, curiosity painting her features as she lowered her book onto the table.

"Hello?" she said after a moment, though it was more of a question than a greeting.

Alastor had never heard her voice before except for when she had screamed. It was melodious, it was soft and sweet. His smile grew.

"Yes, hello indeed."

She stared at him with those eyes, those same eyes that had haunted him for years.

"My apologies but, who are you? Do I know you?"

He was unable to keep the surprise from his features. It had been a long time since anyone had asked him something like that, he couldn't tell if she was joking. But then there were those wide eyes, earnest in their honesty.

"No, my apologies. I did not introduce myself. My name is Alastor, quite the pleasure to meet you. Quiet the pleasure."

He grabbed her hand from where it lay daintily across her open book, shaking it in his own.

"Oh!" Y/n lightly exclaimed in response to the action, "Oh, well, Alastor, I am Y/n. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well."

The contact broke and Alastor leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands.

"Forgive me for saying this but, you seem a bit unsuited for all this mess. Prim and proper. What landed you here?"

"Is that why you've come to join me?"

Alastor nodded after a second's thought. It was an easy cover up for his true motives. Y/n seemed to have no idea who he was after all and to be perfectly honest, even Alastor himself was struggling to understand his motivations. Guilt wasn't an emotion he was familiar with. It was confusing, writhed in the pit of his stomach like a snake.

"Well, thats a rather personal question to ask someone right off the bat, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right. How about this one then, what are you reading?"

After that day at the cafe, Alastor followed Y/n like a hurt puppy. He didn't rightly know why. It was a compulsion of a sort, he couldn't stop it. She was disinterested by radio, by the newfangled video boxes popping up. She knew nothing of his reputation, she just thought he was a friend. A fairly determined friend, but a friend none the less.

Alastor didn't understand it. He was a man obsessed, not with Y/n per say but with the opportunity she offered. She smelled like making good on past wrongs. That wasn't something Alastor had ever been interested in before. Y/n was the exception. She was always the exception, he supposed.

It wasn't long before their little lunches, their random rendezvous in the streets, carefully orchestrated by Alastor of course, not that she knew, became something more. Spending time with her calmed the raging sea of uncertainty in his gut. Being kind to her felt like salvation.

Alastor had never been concerned with that before, but it was such an intoxicating thing to hear her words of thanks, of praise. To witness her smiles and her apparently unending kindness. They would spend hours pouring over one another's collections of books. They would spend hours in deep philosophic discussion. It was Y/n who first brought up their previous lives.

"Do you ever miss it?" she had asked when they had been making lunch together one day in her apartment.

Alastor's hand had stilled, his knife halfway through the cut of veal he had been handeling.

"Miss what, my dear?"

"Life."

He began to move the knife again, letting out a slight hum of thought.

"Not particularly. I take it you do?"

Y/n leaned over the pot, checking to see if the water was boiling yet for the potatoes. It wasn't and so she turned to him, leaning up against the counter.

"Sometimes." she admitted.

Alastor turned to her as well. The apron over her dress was stained with jam from the times they had baked together just a few days before. Y/n hair was tied up and away from her face. He felt his heart stutter in his chest.

That had been happening a lot lately when he looked at her. Alastor figured it was a progression of guilt, a giving away of it. He figured spending time with Y/n was helping it go away.

It wasn't like it was a burden for him. They actually had a surprising amount in common.

"What do you miss?"

"My mom."

And there it was again, the cannibalistic sickness eating away at his brain.

"Were you two close?"

Y/n nodded, turning her gaze to the window.

"Yeah. She... I didn't have a big family. Or a lot of friends growing up. I was shy, painfully shy. She was... she was all I had. And now she's alone up there."

"What landed you down here?"

Y/n looked back to Alastor, smirking.

"Back to this are we? Only took what, six months?"

"We're friends now, aren't we?"

"Alastor..."

"Shoot me, I'm curious."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"Okay, I tell you, you tell me. Deal?"

Alastor thought it over for a moment. He could always lie to her, make up some story or another but, she was bound to find out eventually. More than anything, he wanted to keep her from connecting the pieces. Y/n figuring things out felt dangerous, it pained him to think about how she would react.

"Deal."

"Okay, um," Y/n looked away again, her hands fiddling with the frilled edge of her apron, "I don't really like to talk about it. It's kind of embarrassing."

"You made a deal."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"So spill."

Y/n smiled lightly, meeting Alastor's eyes for a second.

"Well, I was kind of... maybe... sort of... a thief?"

"Really?"

Alastor hadn't expected that. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to be honest but, it wasn't that.

"Yeah. Times were... tough growing up. Single mom with a kid in the early 1900s? Not everyone was a fan. It was hard for her to find work so I would... supplement. No one suspected the little girl, you know?"

There were two types of demons in Hell. There were the ones that had their demon forms, and then there were the ones like Alastor with more than one form, more abilities, more strength. It was the anger that fed it, the person they were on earth. Alastor had always assumed Y/n fell into the first category but, as she relayed her tale to him, her body began to change. She rotted before his very eyes, becoming a standing corpse with his bones all showing.

"I always felt awful about it but, we didn't really have a choice. You know? I didn't want to do it, didn't like it, but I did it and I was good at it. When I grew up, well, sometimes it is just easier to stick to what you know. I worked for a cleaning service, maids for hire, working parties, stuff like that. I, well, the people I worked for were rich. They didn't need the money but my mother and I certainly did."

It was then she seemed to realize her own changed appearance. Her eyes shot up to Alastor as she retook her original form.

"Sorry about that." she awkwardly laughed, "Guess the guilt is still eating me alive, even in death. So, what'd you do?"

Alastor took a breath, appraising the situation. The guilt, the sense of having truly sinned.

"I was a serial killer."

Y/n's eyes went wide.

"Really? You? But you're so..."

"So what, my dear?"

"So nice."

Alastor stilled.

"Nice?" he repeated.

Even in life, it was a word that few had directed towards him. Polite, yes. Talented, yes. Charming? Of course, but never nice.

At the sound of bubbling from the pot, Y/n turned his back to him.

"Yeah." she shrugged, opening the lid and dropping the potatoes in, "You probably one of the nicest people I've ever met."

The way Y/n saw him was intoxicating. Nice. He began to spend more and more time at her side. It was hard to keep the other half of his life from her but, he managed. It was a delicate balance, a game he knew well.

It was a day about a year later that Y/n approached him, blushing and unable to meet his eyes. It was a year later she told him how she felt and he realized he felt the same. They moved in together, did nearly everything together. It was a happy afterlife for them both. The first time they had kissed, she had tasted like redemption.

Y/n never questioned what Alastor did on his late nights out alone. She trusted his fidelity and when he said he liked going for walks alone in the evening air, she accepted it. When he said he was at work, broadcasting his radio show, she never asked why they didn't have a radio of their own. It was an unspoken agreement, he didn't ask where the money came from and she didn't ask what he did in the long hours he was away.

The guilt felt heavy in the pit of his stomach, growing stronger every day but still, Y/n remained blissfully ignorant. Alastor could practically hear the clock ticking. Every kiss felt like it might be the last, every caress, every meal shared at the kitchen table. He did everything he could, but knew one day she was bound to find out.

Alastor knew the day had come when he entered their lovely home on the outskirts of the Pride ring. He called his usual hello out into the house from the foyer, letting the door fall shut behind him. Y/n didn't come.

"Y/n?" he called, taking a step further into the house, "Are you home?"

All the lights were on. That was something she was careful about from the old days, making sure not to use electricity unless necessary. There was no way she wasn't in the house.

Tentatively, he stepped into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, her head in her hands.

"Are you alright, my love?"

It was then he noticed the radio on the table.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Y/n sighed, looking up at him, "Oh."

"Where did you get that?"

"Someone dropped it off, left it at the door. I thought it was you originally but, now I'm not so sure."

Someone had left it for her? One of Alastor's numerous enemies was responsible no doubt. He had always been so careful to keep her protected, out of the public eye. It didn't make sense.

"You heard todays broadcast?"

"Oh you mean the screams of innocent demons mixed in with your stories about New Orleans?"

Alastor was silent. Y/n's eyes were rimmed with red, her hair a mess.

"They were far from innocent. Everyone is down here for a reason. Besides, I told you. I'm a killer."

"You didn't tell me you were my killer."

His heart stopped. He hadn't realized exactly how much she'd managed to piece together from the simple broadcast.

"Am I now?" Alastor asked placidly, trying to remain calm as he clasped his hands behind his back.

He didn't know what he was playing at. He was grasping at straws. Y/n got to her feet.

"You never told me you were from New Orleans, just said you grew up in the south. I let it slide but, I shouldn't have. I should have known, the similarities in our experiences... god, I was such a fool! I should have known we grew from the same patch of dirt. Alastor, there was only one serial killer active in the city at the time we were both alive, at the time I died."

"And you think it was me, my heart?"

"Alastor." she crossed her arms.

"I..."

"How could you not tell me?"

Y/n's anger mixed with grief, it misdirected itself, it got caught on the details. It hurt more that he'd been lying to her. The act itself was something to be dealt with later. Now was the time for the lies. They had spent years together, built a life together and the whole time, he had been lying.

"I didn't me-"

"Mean for me to find out?"

"Well, yes." he took a step forward, he tried to grab her hands but she pulled them away.

Y/n's skin was rotting now, she was taking on her other form. It was the first time he'd seen her do it when not remising about the past or telling stories about her mother. He had no idea what she was capable of when in this state.

"But also, I didn't mean to-"

"To what, to kill me? To marry me? To make me fucking trust you?"

"I..."

The world was falling down around him. The one thing he couldn't lose, the one thing he cared about besides himself or his power. The person that meant the most to him.

"My darling, my heart, m-"

"No, Alastor. Just... just stop." she sighed, a hand to her forehead.

She rubbed her temples, exhausted and overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry."

The words were spoken softly but they crashed into Y/n like a speeding truck. They broke her ribs. She lowered her hand.

"I... I need some time."

"No, Y/n, wait. Please."

Again, she brushed off his attempts to hold her, making her way to the door of the kitchen. Alastor followed her out into the hallway.

"Y/n. Please. Please don't leave."

"What, so you can keep up your pity project?" she scoffed, rounding on him, "I am better than that Alastor. I deserve better."

"It... you aren't a pity project. You're my world, I love you."

"No, your world is this city. Your world is running Hell. I... Alastor, I'm leaving."

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priyanka7 · 1 year

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winterarmyy · 1 year

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Around My Scars

Glimpses of mafia!bucky and his wife's arranged married life.

Summary: A careless decision leads to Bucky almost losing his wife.

Note: Read 《 Plot Twist 》 for backstory of the couple.

Words: 5.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, physical assault (not from bucky), sexual assault (not from bucky), graphic violence, reader is lowkey a badass, pussyjob, reader on top but bucky in control, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, extra soft!bucky, fluff, tiny angst, etc.

P/S: If you have not read the original story yet. You can read it first for backstory. If not, you still can read it as standalone. And for those who came from plot twist series, I noticed there's a lot of you wanting more from this couple. So here's one of the glimpses of what happen somewhere in the future. Enjoy ♡

Read my other works here: Masterlist

All her life, she never thought a kiss could be this gentle. In fact every time Bucky's lips graced on her skin, it was impossibly tender. His kisses trailed along her bare back, from the center of her waist up to the back of her shoulder.

His lips followed the surrounding shape of her scarring wounds, as if he was tracing the shadows of them. His hot breath fanning against her cold skin and the deep, and subtle hum of his voice lulled her to near slumber.

Unlike his soft pillowy lips, his hands however were the opposite. His right was calloused and warm while the other was smooth and cold. Yet both of them were cupping her bare breasts perfectly; they felt so good on her skin.

It felt good like this; nothing in between them. Not even a single piece of clothing separating them apart. Bare and naked.

"Bucky..." a quiet moan was drawn from her lips as his hands squeeze her softness before they roamed around her frame.

Bucky only tightens his hold on her upon hearing her voice. It was if he was afraid that she was not real. As if she was just an illusion he was despretely holding onto.

He pulled her impossibly closer, his metal arm wrapped around her waist, gripping on the side while his right hand palming her chest, right above where her heart was beating.

She's real. She's here.

His own voice reassured his doubtful mind.

However, Y/N was getting nothing from her husband. Only grunts and growl and him snuggling into her, "Bucky, baby? What's wrong, honey?" she coaxed him softly as her hand reached back to played with his hair.

It took a few moments of silence before Bucky finally replied, his voice sounded like regret, "It's my fault, y/n."

~ ~ Flashback ~ ~

It was a normal day for the couple. A lovely day, in fact. They were on one of their 'undercover' dates. At least, that what Y/N called it. A name she came up with that makes Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Apparently, after the diner date they had before, they find themselves wanting more of it. The normality of life outside of the reality they lived in. And they surely made it a weekly schedule. Not that it was chore for them though, it never was, never will be.

After visiting the Brooklyn Book Festival and basically almost hauling the displays, they were planning to eat the new cafe near the location. But, as soon as they find the seats, Bucky got a call.

He was not supposed to even received any call.

That was one of the rules he set himself; no business during their dates. For whatever reason, this one got through him.

"Probably something huge." Y/N guessed as she watched Bucky excuses himself to pickup the call.

And her hunch was true. It was a huge deal. Especially when she saw his expression when he was approaching their table.

"I'm sorry, sweets. I really hate to leave you like this." He apologized when Y/N said she was okay to eat lunch alone.

"It's okay, I'm already here so it'd be a waste to completely cancel the plan." She continued to justify her decision for the reasons that the new café was hard to book a table, as if Bucky couldn't just book the whole goddamn café everyday for the rest of their life for her.

But, in the end, she did managed to persuade him. Bucky gentlely pulled her by the chin, before placing a soft kiss on her lips; whispering promises to make it up for her.

As his promises were laced with sweetness and sin, Y/N couldn't help but to smile against his lips, humming in agreement before watching him jog to the car.

She waved him a final goodbye and smiled at Steve who came to pick him up. The car drove away, leaving two of Bucky's men behind to look after Y/N.

If only Bucky knew how careless his decision was to leave those particular men in charge of his wife. Both were high on drugs and was not in a condition to be on duty. Especially a duty as important as protecting the lady of mansion.

At first it wasn't clear why she felt a little out after her lunch. She thought she would be fine after a little walk at the nearby park but she was wrong. Utterly wrong; especially when her vision went dark all of the sudden.

When she woke up in that basement, it clicked her. Her drink or food must have been spiked.

How long has it been since? How far away is she now from Bucky? Y/N woke up knowing nothing. Not knowing the place she was in nor the duration she had passed out.

Her heart was pumping fast, all the while her body was deadly cold. She was expecting to be tied up on a chair, at least she could try wiggle herself out of it but luck wasn't on her side.

Metal chains securely cuffed around her wrists as well as her ankles. Her movement was limited as the end of the chains were attached to the wall behind here. Anxiety threatens her to cry but she tried to stay calm.

Y/N looked at her surroundings. It seems to be a run down basement. There's lack of natural light source; the very little lighting were coming from the dim fluorescent lamp right above her head and another two in different location.

Clearly some empty bottles of alcohol were scattering all over the place. But none of those items were close enough for her to reach out to. Y/N heard laughs from behind the rusty metal door. It had two distinct voices; one deep and another was rather squeaky.

A clacking sound seemed to indicate that someone was unlocking the door. As the door opened, a man in his mid 30s walked in with a cruel smile.

He walked closer followed by two other man behind him; both were armed. Y/N frantically crawled back to meet her back to the walls behind her, the metal chains rubbed with each other, breaking the silence in the room.

"Stay back!" she warned.

The brutal man took a chair and sat in front of her. He looked like that type of person who would do anything for power. He had nothing but fiery eyes.

He look down and said "What's your name, sweetheart?" his voice demand nothing but a clear answer.

Y/N glared up to him, "I'd tell you, but I don't like being labelled." If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. The man could see she was not afraid to bite if he reach his hands out.

He chuckled darkly, "You're funny..." But unfortunately, he wasn't the type to reach out, he's more likely to; lash out.

The silenced room was once again tainted with sound, but this it wasn't just the moving chains but there was also the sound created from the impact of the harsh slap across Y/N's face.

The back of his hand hit and she fell with the force of it, "Urghh.." she groaned as she fall flat on the ground. The man continued, "... but not funny enough."

She can taste the coppery liquid on her tongue; she must have injured herself. Her cheeks stings as hell but Y/N was never the type to stay quiet and cry in front of people, especially to her enemies.

She giggled eerily as she sat back up, the undying flames in her eyes burn brighter, "Well that was fucking weak." she spat out the blood right on his shiny black shoes.

The man slipped out hysterical laugh, "I see why he like to keep you around." he smirked and stood from the chair. He dragged the rickety wooden chair away and threw it farther away than the original position.

Y/N had her gaze as strong as her will to live. The man look back to the tiny woman on the dusty floor before walking away. "Sir, what do we do with the girl?" One of the guards asked.

The man stopped midway through the door and stay silence for awhile, a wicked thought came through him, "Do whatever you want to do. As long as she remains alive." he snapped his head back to display a meaningful malicious grin and closed the doors behind him.

It was just a second of a glimpse, but the man clearly saw Y/N's despair in her expression. Too bad he had to go so soon.

As the doors closed, the two man look at each other and back to Y/N. A person doesn't need be a genius to read the mood. She knew exactly what's going to happen and for the first time a long time, she was petrified. For the first time in forever, she was scared for her life.

She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But no one would, no one was there.

A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, "Get away! Don't come any closer!" she felt a drop run down her cheek. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Y/N roared hoping the two man had a little bit fear but considering her position, that obviously not going to happen.

The man fearless and shamelessly grabbed her despite she was crying out pleads. "Come now, sweets. Make this easy for us."

Sweets. It sounds so disgusting coming from another man.

One of the man grabbed a hold of her wrists while another took his time feasting her with his eyes.

"P-please don't d-do this..." she sniffled as her strength were getting weaker, despite all of the quarrels and battle she had gone through before, she should be fearless.

But, when one is looking into eyes that lurked with such dark lust as those she was seeing right now; fear is bound to creep in. No matter how strong-willed a person see themselves as.

"Don't worry, we'll be gentle if you behave." he licked his upper lips as he run his hand along her waist up to her chest.

It was disgusting, every cells on Y/N's body was rejecting his touch; her throats seemed like it was trying to force her to puke something out but there's nothing but the nausea.

Tears kept falling down as they escape from the corner of her eyes. She was beyond terrified, even with her struggling; it seemed to be useless.

The man grabbed on the fabric of her sundress that was framing her collarbone and forcibly ripped them apart, exposing Y/N in her bra. The man scanned her body once more, cock straining in his pants.

Damn, she looked like sin.

He managed to gripped her hands together in one hand before she could protest even more. His other hand reaching to her breast.

No.

His rough grip on her breast was only bringing her pain than pleasure. But he was rather enjoying the tenderness of her body.

No.

He dipped in closer; he stuck his tongue out to lick the valley of her breasts, leaving trails of his disgusting stickiness behind.

Stop.

He hummed in satisfaction, approving the way she tasted. His bulge rubbing against her clothed core, humping for pleasure. Y/N couldn't look at him.

Please, stop.

But the moment she looked away, she made eye contact to the other man behind him. He had his cock in his hand, lazy strokes and a wicked smile when the tears fell down from her eyes.

"So pretty, baby" he mouthed.

For a moment there Y/N stopped struggling. She sat still like a doll who loses its' battery power, the man's statement rang in her head in an infinite loop.

"You're beautiful, y/n" Bucky's voice resurfaced in her mind.

"You're always going to be mine." the voice continued.

"I'm always going to be there to protect you, sweets."

The flashbacks run through her head faster than a bullet train.

Seeing how Y/N stopped moving, they thought she gave up. But then again, some people never learn. Don't ever underestimate your opponent.

She get the hold of herself, pulled her head back and headbutt the man in front of her. She didn't even care if she could get a concussion herself from the impact. The man ended up falling back on his ass as he grunts in pain.

"Stay. The Fuck. Away. From Me." She threatened.

Though her defiant only spark anger from the man, rather than fear. When he regained his balance, he slipped the leather belt from his pants, "You asked for this little girl. So be it." he grunts as he pulled a hand back.

His palm strikes her on already stinging cheeks, making her fall on her chest. Before she could pushed herself up, she was forced to stay down as the man pressed his boots at the back of her head.

"You need to be trained like a bitch. And I'm gonna give you exactly that." His words only sounded like a warning to her.

Which was exactly it, when she felt the first strike of his belt across her back. It was one of many mean and harsh whipping on her delicate skin. Until she was aching, bleeding.

As sick as he was, enjoying the thrill of torturing a defenseless girl, the other man was much more twisted, as he kept stroking himself as he watched Y/N bleed and whimpered.

It was disgusting, it was painful; And at one point her hands were reaching around only to clung on the man's other foot.

Surprisingly he stopped, "Learnt your lessons yet, mutt?"

Y/N can hear his sinister smile despite her face planted on the floor. She didn't reply, the only sound can be heard from her, is her unstable breathing.

Wanting as answer, he foolishly pulled his foot away from her head, "Are you deaf? Answer me!" He pushed.

Foolish he was.

Y/N fought against the agonizing pain on her back and took the advantage to pull his leg as hard as she could, making his fall on the floor. She was swift with her next move; she hit the man's groin with her elbow, automatically lower the protection his other part of his body.

As he was busy tending his wounded balls, Y/N slide behind him and wrapped the chains around his neck, she yanked the man as she tighten the crossover metal chains.

"You better stay the fuck away from me or he's dead." She warned the other man who was trying to get to her, he called her bluff. He took a step closer, still pushing his luck.

Y/N strengthen her grip as well as pulling the chain as hard as she could, practically strangling and knocking out the breath out of his throat. "S-Stop. S-stay there." the dying man stuttered.

The other obliged and had his hand up in the air as a sign of surrender. Y/N glared up to the man, "Lay your filthy hands on me again, I won't hold back." she growled in his ears before drifting his head towards the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Upon seeing his accomplice slouched to the floor with a bleeding head, the other man tried to grabbed and hold her down. But she quickly grabbed the gun from the unconscious man, and pulled the trigger.

Her aim was off but enough to disarm him. His right shoulder now had a hole through it. He grunted to agonizing pain on his shoulder, but he should've known to not let his guard down. Then, it hits him. Another hole through the shins of his left leg.

He screamed and wailed, sucking air in and out of his mouth, holding on to the last cliff of his life as he fell into his knees and down to the floor.

Despite the lack of protest from the man, Y/N didn't let her guard down as she still holding on the gun in her grip.

At this point, Y/N was losing more than just her blood, but her strength and vision too. She blinked slowly, waiting for glimpse of threat from the entrance.

Even if the two men were rendered immobilized, however she knew gunshot will alert the others. Anyone could barge in at any point of time. And she needed to be ready for them.

The door was getting blurry in her point of view and the cracking headache greeted as painful as the other wounds all over her back.

The dark silence didn't last long as Y/N can clearly heard a lot of movements from the level above her. One time she heard multiple footsteps running around and another she heard loud cracks much resembles a sound of a "Gun shots..." she breathed.

It took a single kick on the rusty old metal door; Y/N's body jumped out of reflex to the sound of the door fall from it's frame. As the door fell down, it revealed the face of a man who Y/N thought she could never see ever again.

His face were painted with the colour of crimson, almost covering half of his beautiful features; but his sapphire eyes shines the same. Even if her hearts was pumping fast, it seemed like the man was more desperate for air than she herself.

A sense of relief hit her like the crashing wave as she called out his name, "Bucky..."

Bucky stood there,dark and dangerous; just a few steps away from the woman he claimed as his. His heart seemed to stop for a split second; there she was — crawled in the corner of the dim lit room, both hands and legs chained to the wall behind her.

It's not that Bucky couldn't see there were others in the basement besides her; he knew that, he could see them but the nudity of his wife's chest caught his attention and he could see the pieces of her torn clothes were near her wounded ankles and wrists.

The cuts on around her skin, cause by the metal cuffs symbolizes her struggles. The bright pair of eyes that Bucky had always admired; they glint, however, in pain and tears.

A sight that Bucky never wanted to see.

Frozen in his spot, Y/N gathered all the strength she had left, to shout his name once again, "Come here, Bucky..." the sound of the strained metal chain echoed along with her shaky plead, as she reach her arms out towards her husband.

Pleading for his touch, his warmth.

It took less than a second after hearing her calling, for Bucky to sprint towards her. Completely ignoring the riot of bullets echoed from above them, even stepping on the men on the floor.

He had lost her for less than seven hours, but it felt like forever. Bucky fell down to his knees as he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her head to his chest. He hold onto her tightly, as if someone was trying to rip her away from his grasps.

It was slight, but Bucky could clearly feel her body shivering body in his embrace as she cried to his chest, a piercing pain struck his heart, "I'm here. I'm here." he whispered softly.

His hand found it's way to her back, wanting to give her a tender stroke of reassurance but he found himself frozen to the sensation on his palm.

At first he felt it; wet and sticky. But when he brought his hands up to the light, he finally saw how his whole palm were covered in blood. Her blood. His wife's blood.

A wave of pure rage reigned his whole being and what happen that day had become one of the things Bucky's men will never forget.

Bucky made sure it rain blood that day.

And it was truly a gruesome sight to see.

~ ~ End of Flashback ~ ~

Since the day Y/N woke up in their bed, Bucky never left her side. Not even for his business, for weeks now Bucky had temporarily place the authority to Steve and he had spend his day tending his wife as he should.

Now, weeks later from that day, Bucky is claiming that it was his fault that she was kidnapped?

No, it absolutely was not. Far from it. How is y/n getting kidnapped is his fault? How is y/n getting tortured is his blunder? That does not make any sense. Not in any universe.

"I should've been there with you." He explained.

Bucky's kisses took a halt in the crook of her neck, he relishes the sweet scent emitting from her as his lips rested on her weak spot. Where does the scent coming from? Was it from her body lotion or from her shampoo. Eitherway, it was intoxicating.

He almost felt guilty for finding a calming relief from it. He wasn't nearly worthy enough to find peace in her. And yet here he was; selfish and greedy for the friction of her touch, the influence of her scent, the melody of her moans, all of her.

Y/N release herself from his embrace and swiftly changed her position to straddling him. His eyes searched her face, wondering if she was uncomfortable and how can he please her.

She run her hands through his hair as she chooses her words carefully, "Yes, you should. But that doesn't justify why you blame yourself for it." She leaned into him, brushing the tip of her nose on his.

Before Bucky can protest, Y/N shuts him up with a kiss on his lips, "It was not your fault. No one knew that they going to spike my drink. No one knew that they managed to drug up your men. Honey, it was an accident. It was not your fault, it never was and never will be." She was only speaking the truth, even Bucky couldn't argue.

He leaned his forehead on her before speaking up, "I just hate seeing you get hurt, sweets." Bucky sighed, as a frown formed on his face.

Y/N does not want Bucky to dwell in this darkness again. He kept doing it for the past weeks, and though some days she managed to pull him out, some other she failed. This worries her; it scared her.

Bucky might not notice it right now since his mind was blurry with worry; but if he was more aware of his surroundings he might just notice how Y/N was slowly leaking on his cock. His girth was slotted perfectly between her pussy and the sight of it turns her on.

It's been awhile since they feel each other; due to her injuries Bucky was constantly worrying about hurting her during sex.

And she was desperate for him, she want him to remove all the bad memories of that day. Douse her with his touch, mark her body so the traces of the man will no longer bear any meaning to her.

Her cunt twitches to the thought, she couldn't help but to grind her hips. Letting his cock glides through her folds; getting it wet from her fluids, "Then love on me, Bucky." It was an instant respond from Bucky, his cock was growing hard on command.

His gaze briefly fell on where his cock was buried between, before looking up to her hazy eyes. "...If you don't want to see me hurt. Then make love to me, let me show you how good you make me feel." She coaxed as her hips continues to grind on him.

Each movement causing throbs of need on her clit. She kept brushing it along his length, presses a little force when it reached to the tip of cock. Bucky moaned in sheer pleasure everytime she did that.

"Please, Bucky I miss you..” She mumbled softly, rolling her hips a bit, making him groan as he melted, "I miss you too, babydoll." He breathes out deeply before placing a sweet kiss on lips.

Bucky held her by the side of her hips and pushes her down further, as he slowly thrusted his hard throbbing cock in between the wet slit of her pussy.

The immense sensation on her was beyond words to describe. She thought she knew pleasure before but turn out she was wrong. Unable to even utter a single coherent word, Bucky on the other hand wasn't planning disappoint her.

Bucky's thrusts get faster and rougher by time until he started to hump her almost uncontrollably, letting out these little desperate groans.

"Feel so good, Buck-- ah shit--" Y/N moaned, her face flushed pink, mouth hanging open as her pussy throbbed against his drenched cock. Every time he push forward, he could feel himself spreading the lips of her pussy apart.

His pace did not drop as his goal is to make her cum just by him fucking through her folds alone. He want see her feeling good. And sure enough, she began to whimper, "I'mma cum. Bucky, please don't stop. I'm cumming."

Bucky leaned into her ears and whispered, "Go ahead, babydoll. Cum for me. Let me see your face when I make you cum. That's it baby, hmmm, so pretty. Can feel ya clenching. Feels good doesn't it, sweets. Yeah you do." He held her still as he thrusted against her slick again and again, letting her ride her high; his pace was faster and maybe a bit more desperate than before while she from her orgasm.

Bucky caught her from falling back into the mattress, he leaned her body towards himself. Letting her rest on his chest. Slow drag of his cock on her pussy felt so good, she might have had a mini orgasm from it.

"Babydoll, gonna make you feel even more better. Gonna stuff your pussy full. Can I? Promise it'll make you feel so good. Want that, sweets?" Bucky coaxed her with sinful temptation that she couldn't resist.

"Yes please. Wanna be stuffed and full of you and your cum. Please?" She didn't need to beg like that for Bucky to comply.

His hand searched for hers before he interlock her fingers with him. He sit her up on her knee, using one of his free hand to line the tip of his cock at her entrance.

Y/N's whole body trembled when he thrust himself up into her one swift movement. He watch as her eyes are furrowed shut, lips parted in pleasure. Her knuckles whiten as they grip the sheets and his hand.

Oh she was so full. So full of him.

Bucky bite his lip at the feeling of being inside her, the clenching her walls around his needy cock. He lift her up off him slowly, ceating a slow but deep pace, she let the sounds of his deep groans fill her ears. He’s not noisy, but just very vocal, every breath coming out as moan of pleasure.

"You’re so good for me, Bucky." She praise breathlessly. "So good".

His hips buck up and she hiss as he inadvertently thrusts into her deeper than before. "God," he almost whined, lost at the feel of her warm cunt.

Y/N was also feeling as good. The sting of the stretch was amazing. She bite back her moan as he rubbed all over her favourite spots inside, "Hmmpph! Buck- ahh. please, ahh-- fuck me so good." She let out a breathy mumbling noises as he continue drill his cock in and out of her.

"Feels amazing being inside you, sweets. So warm, so wet. Fuck-- yeah just that, milk me like that yeahh" Bucky's hips moved upwards and downward as he fucks her rough and messy, holding her tightly against his body as he bounces her up and down on his cock.

Both of the pair of eyes never left each other. Eyes roaming to stare either at each others fucked-out face or to where their sex was connected.

How lewd it was; the way he languidly pumps himself in and out of her. How her small little hole could swallow his cock perfectly in each of his hips thrusts. How beautiful the sweat glistens across her skin;

The way Bucky dips his head into her to pepper kisses on her neck, the way his brows furrow when he gives a particularly deep thrust. Every single thing about it was beautiful.

Bucky felt so thick inside of her and he's hitting so deep, it felt fucking incredible. She can feel the pressure building inside of her, "i'm gonna cum again... oh god, bucky baby,-- ahh fuck-- "

Bucky encouraged her with with low growl and she moaned raggedly as she came on his cock; squeezing him tight, and his thrusts become even wilder, "fuck yes, squeezing me so nice. Gonna cum inside ya, sweets. Will have my load leaking from your pussy baby." his groan were starting to sound more desprete.

Still high on orgasm, she nods in agreement, "yes, Bucky. Wanna feel you leaking please" She pleaded as she felt another wave of pleasure was trying to burst.

Bucky's thrusts loses it's pattern as he chased his high, "oh fuck, i'm cummin' inside ya, sweets! Fuck fuck fuck" strings of curses spilled before he let out a long moan as his cock burst on his high, filling her to the brim with his thick hot cum.

Naturally, she came as well, accompanied by a sweet mewl as her walls pulsed around him while he empties ropes and ropes of his cum inside her, whimpering into her ear.

When he's finally finished he gives a long, contented sigh he slowly lay on the bed, gently bringing her along as he rested her head on his chest. With his cock still resting in her throbbing pussy, Bucky thought of going for round two.

But when he heard the soft snores coming from his wife, he put that thought in a backlog, and instead decided to help clean his babydoll up so she could get a better rest as she deserved.

By the time she was well taken care of, Bucky scrolled through his text messages with Steve. The 'temporary in charge' was apparently also in charge of depriving life out of the two men who had assaulted Y/N.

"Are they dead yet?" Bucky prompted.

"No. They beg to though." Steve replied.

"Then, let them beg to death." Bucky ended the conversation, before placing his phone aside.

Though he takes pleasure in torturing his prey with his own bare hands however nothing is more important than being by his wife's side when she needed him the most.

Besides, those scum will live long enough for Bucky to come down there and bring hell to them himself. He will make sure of that. But until then, nothing matters to Bucky than being here for his babydoll.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

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llamagoddessofficial · 5 months

Text

An HMF x OC commission from @radpunch that made me swoon ❤️ any chance to write this big lug, I'll take!!

---

It was love at first sight.

Looking out his car window was, oddly, one of the few joys he still had. It was such a strange thing to look forward to. Papyrus wouldn’t allow him to drive anymore, given the state of him, and although it frustrated him to lose his agency having a driver meant he could sit in the backseat and stare out of the tinted window.

... He was sick and tired of the way everything would stop when he entered a room. He was sick of the world that refused to forget the parts of him he wanted to forget, but at the same time, forgot the things he desperately wished to hold onto.

His eyelight rolled over the street, taking in it all. The colours, the sounds, the sights. He could almost forget what had happened to him. He got the sense of normalcy he had been missing, craving, for so long; nobody could gawk at him like they usually did, nobody even knew he was there. From the safety of that bulletproof box he could see how the normal world went on. People bustling up and down the streets, moving in and out of stores, chatting with friends or arguing with each other, laughing and yelling and living their lives.

How things used to be.

His eyelight landed on something that should’ve been another normal sight. An entirely unremarkable flower shop, sat between a cafe and small family market. It was the kind of area he and his brother would’ve collected protection from in the early days of their ‘business’. There were flowers arranged outside of the store, grey metal buckets full of bouquets set spaced across a low wooden table.

... There was a human woman tending to the flowers. Your apron was the same colour as the store’s green banner.

...

His Soul stilled inside his chest.

“... stop the car,” he said, before he even knew he was speaking.

You weren’t doing anything particularly incredible, nor noteworthy. You blended in with the rest of the people on that busy street - standing outside your shop. Watering the plants? Pruning them? He couldn’t tell from this distance.

Impressively, the driver had heard his mumbled command, shifting down a gear despite the look from the bodyguard in the passenger seat.

“Where would you like to get out, sir?”

... It was strange. But Sans missed the days when his drivers would question him. It just wasn’t the same now that nobody ever even thought of challenging his word. Sir, this isn’t where we’re stopping. Sir, Papyrus said we must be there at eight, we cannot pull over. Sir, I’m under express orders not to let you go to the bar.

Now, even the slightest sign of questioning would probably be considered stupid.

“... florist.”

Sans didn’t miss the second strange look the bodyguard gave to the driver. He would’ve felt anger at that, usually, but instead he watched intently as you headed into the shop.

The driver pulled up to the side of the road, a few cars’ distance from the entrance to the store. Sans opened the car door.

“How long will you be, sir?” the guard asked.

Sans didn’t reply; he often didn’t, these days. He merely stepped out of the car. He knew the driver would wait.

The second he exited the vehicle, Sans saw the world around him realise he was there, and react with its usual amount of terror and disgust. His presence was always a blight. People in the street immediately began to stare, freezing in their path, refusing to cross in front of the giant that had just appeared. A mother with a child who had been walking their way suddenly spotted him, and jerked her child by the arm, turning the two of them around and rushing in the other direction.

Usually, he only had to pretend that he didn’t care. But this time, he genuinely didn’t.

... He was excited.

Sans made his way over to the flower shop, ignoring all the tiny people that flitted away from him. His Soul was... beating. It was beating, thudding against his ribcage.

He opened the door, ducking slightly under the frame. A tiny bell chimed.

... It was such a quaint little store. Clearly strapped for space, every corner was occupied with pretty things; while one wall was dedicated to shelves full of decorative pots and bottles of flower feed, the rest of the store was bursting with different kinds of blossoms, arranged in all kinds of creative ways. Every taste was catered to - elegant bouquets of dark paddle-leaves and pale lilies, stringy minimalist green stalks dotted with clusters of tiny blossoms, extravagant bunches of pink that more resembled floral fireworks than anything natural. A blackboard displayed bouquet prices, with sweet little illustrations of the various bridal styles available. *Please note that out-of-season flowers might be more expensive!

And at the far end, behind the counter... by far the prettiest thing in the whole room.

You.

Whatever had happened to him in the car, it happened again. His chest was tight, his head was swimming. His Soul felt heavy, and hot, he was certain it had manifested itself inside his ribcage - it felt as if it was twice its usual size. Everything was brighter, more saturated.

You did look at his head crack when he entered. Everyone did. You glanced up from the bouquet you were organising, a classic bunch of perfectly red roses; but your eyes quickly skirted away from the injury, aware that you were staring, and probably not wanting to be rude. It was more politeness than most bothered to afford him.

... Then you smiled at him.

He literally felt his Soul pulse. All his breath escaped him at the same time. You were smiling? At him? People didn’t smile at him anymore, not genuinely. Their smiles were sly and patronising when they assumed he was stupid, or desperate and weak when they were a cornered animal doing their best to appear nonchalant in the face of a predator.

This smile... your smile...

“Hi sir,” you said, in a voice like a lullaby. “what can I get for you?”

What could you get for him? He hadn’t even started thinking about that. He had just seen you across the road, and followed you like a lost dog. His eyelight scanned the shelves; he couldn’t say he’d ever been into a florist before, nor that he knew how to order a bouquet.

“... what’s...” For the first time in a long time, he was really really trying to get his words right. He was willing to put in the effort. “... your name?”

“Dove. You?”

It took him a moment to remember his own name.

“sans.”

Everything about you was soft. You had little lines around your smile that he wanted to trace with his claws. “It’s nice to meet you. Is there anything you’re looking for?”

you. “... just flowers.”

To his surprise, you giggled. It was a small sound, but it shot through him like lightning.

“Of course. My bad.”

“... was lookin’ for... somethin’ pretty.” He stared across the room at you, emboldened by your laugh. “... think i already found it, though.”

You went pink, and looked down at the counter.

Sans was...

... Well, he was shocked.

When was the last time his attention had incited anything except absolute terror? Regardless of gender, even just a glance from would make people shudder and cower, retreating into themselves. But here you were, blushing at his first attempt at flirting in what must’ve been years. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

... He couldn’t remember a single instance, after his injury, where he genuinely wanted someone. He had a vague aesthetic interest in a member of a rival gang, once, but she’d been so frightened by him staring at her that he quickly gave that up. He hadn’t felt these kinds of feelings in a long time.

... In fact... now that he was looking at you and your lovely nose and lips, he couldn’t remember a single instance before his injury when he felt this strongly about someone. His younger self had been a playboy who chased anything pretty and distracting.

He’d never felt these warm, intense, fluttery sensations before.

It felt like love.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked him. “For the flowers, I mean.”

He approached the counter. “... a gift.”

“Are there any particular flowers or colours you have in mind?”

“... which... flowers do you like?”

Your blush hadn’t gone away. Was he just seeing things because he was desperate, or were you leaning on the counter like that to be flirtatious? “Oh... I know it’s stereotypical to say as a florist, but I can’t pick a favourite. I like so many of them.”

His eyelight lingered on your neck. He didn’t want to make assumptions and scare you off. But at the same time, he wanted so much. “how come?”

“Well... there’s a lot of folklore behind flowers. Pretty much all flowers have certain meanings.” You kept fiddling with the roses, changing the position of blooms. “The Victorians were really into it, they got super specific, even down to which hand you gave flowers with. Nobody really cares about that kind of thing nowadays, they just want the bouquets to look good. Which is fair enough. But every time I find out the hidden meaning of a flower, I think about how someone long ago must’ve loved that flower enough to give it so much meaning. And I get all emotional.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening in the light. He dug his thumb into the side of his index finger to stop himself from reaching out and caressing your face.

“... Y’know, it does make me laugh, sometimes, when people pick rude flowers without knowing their meaning.” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes. “They have no idea they’re sending a bouquet that would’ve meant ‘I don’t trust you, and I’m extremely disappointed with you’.”

He couldn’t help but smile when you smiled. That... was kinda funny. Papyrus would like this sort of thing.

“what kinda messages... can you send?”

“Almost anything.” You moved the roses to the side. “I can’t say I know many off the top of my head. Romantic love, platonic love, wisdom, bravery. There’s a lot for love. My favourites are the mean ones, though, because it’s so funny to me - orange lilies used to mean hatred. Could you imagine getting orange lilies delivered to your door?”

... He chuckled. He could listen to you talk forever.

“... could i...” he hummed. “... get somethin’... with a meaning?”

Your whole face lit up. You beautiful thing.

“Of course! I don’t think I’ve ever actually gotten to make a bouquet that uses flower language." You were beaming. "What message were you thinking of?”

He looked right into your lovely, shiny eyes. “love at first sight.”

... He could see exactly how your mind worked, in that moment. There was an instant of surprise, then a glimmer of flattery and embarrassment, it came with another flash of warmth across your face that only deepened the colour in your cheeks. He could tell you were immediately trying to pull yourself back, convincing yourself he couldn’t mean you, reigning in the sudden feelings.

“Whoever it’s for must be very lucky.” You tucked some hair behind your ear. If only you knew. “Hold on, just let me grab my flower language book.”

You rushed over to a shelf. As you did, he looked down to double check that his Soul wasn’t shining through his clothes.

“Here.” You came back quickly, holding the book in question, already leafing through it. It was a faded beige, with beautifully illustrated blossoms on the front, encased in an embossed golden border. “This should help.”

He wanted to purr. You were so cute. Moving around with so much excitement, he liked when you were excited.

“There’s a few, I think. You’re in luck, we have these in stock.” He wasn’t paying attention to the book, he was just looking at you. “Thornless roses - gloxinia too. This one says that lilac roses are good to represent first love. We could make some really nice arrangements with these shapes and colours.”

just keep talking, was all he could think. talk to me forever...

Eventually, you looked up at him, still smiling. He had to physically fight the urge to just pick you up and walk out the door. “What size were you thinking?”

“... whatever... you think... looks best.” He wanted you to have fun with it. “... money’s... no object.”

“I think something medium would be good for these flowers. Anything bigger and it'll just look silly. Any particular styles?”

“... somethin’ romantic.”

You gently giggled. He guessed that that wasn’t a proper bouquet style. Usually, when people laughed at him, he felt the urge to cave in their skull... but when you laughed at him, he laughed too, a soft chuckle escaping his massive chest. His mind was racing to figure out why you laughed, so he could make you do it again.

“i like your laugh,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“... I like yours, too.” Your voice was sweet. Almost... coy?

He was daring to hope that, despite his gruesome injury, you liked him too.

... The store bell let out a little chime.

Sans turned around. And, much to his immediate aggravation, he saw his guard standing at the entrance.

“Hello.” Your voice was very different to the one you were just using with him. Far more customer service, far more ‘normal’. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The guard ignored you, looking to Sans. “Sir, you...”

Sans’ glare must’ve said shut the fuck up fluently enough to make the man close his mouth again.

don’t you dare. don’t you fucking dare ruin this for me.

“... Do you two need to speak in private?” You had probably lived in this city long enough to know when it was time to make yourself scarce. “It’s fine, I can go make the bouquet while you talk.”

... He nodded.

“... sorry. s’cuse me.”

You disappeared away, into the back of the store.

...

He turned to the guard. He could feel his eyelight starting to burn, sharpening and filling with aggressive magic.

“what.”

The guard visibly shrank into himself. Sans didn’t even want guards, he didn’t fucking need them, he could more than handle himself. But Papyrus was still shaken from the incident to this day, and wouldn’t let him anywhere without at least one armed guard.

“S-sir, we’re... we’ll be late,” he said.

Sans didn’t care. The clowns he was meeting with would wait for him like nervous children, no matter how long he took to arrive. As the moments ticked by, the guard just withered more and more under Sans’ stare.

...

He eventually sighed, through his nasal cavity. Being around you had softened his mood significantly. He didn't even feel like breaking anything.

“i’ll tell... pap... you tried to rush me.”

... A wave of relief passed over the guard’s face. Though Sans was the one most feared, Papyrus’ wrath was still nothing to sneeze at.

“Here!” Your voice snapped him back to attention. He turned around, just in time to see you set an arrangement down on the counter. “What do you think? I’m happy to make adjustments.”

... It was lovely. Really lovely. He leaned in to get a closer look. He knew what lilacs and roses looked like, but he couldn’t say he’d ever seen a gloxinia before; they resembled open roses, lipstick red petals with ruffled white edges. Gloxinia and bunches of lilacs were interspersed by small lavender-hued closed rosebuds... minuscule baby’s breath flowers had been added too, on their thin stalks, floating over it all like stars.

“... s’perfect,” he murmured. You immediately smiled wider. Who would’ve known he’d grow a fondness for flowers?

He took out his wallet, rummaging until he had enough bills. It didn’t take long. He pushed them across the counter to you, and you graciously picked them up.

“Do you mind me asking who the lucky someone is?” you asked, starting to count what he’d given.

... Sans pushed the flowers across the counter a little, over to you.

“gotta go.” he murmured. “... late.”

...

You looked up at him, blankly. It was such a cute expression on your pretty face. Again, he was restraining the urge to purr, it would just be too inappropriate to do in public. Especially with someone else right behind him. Maybe if the two of you were alone...

“Huh?”

He turned, nodding to the guard, who made his way over to the door and opened it for him. As much as he wished he could just skip the meeting and stay there in that shop with you forever, he did have business to attend to.

You sounded flustered, behind him. “W-wait. You gave me too much,”

Sans waved over his shoulder at you.

The walk back to the car was a blur. His soul was still thundering. He genuinely wasn’t looking at the people around him, he didn’t care what they thought. All he cared about was what you thought.

All he was thinking about was the different ways he could make you his.

#commissions #god i love the big man #everyone else makes him HELLISH #but you make him so happy and calm

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littlebumblebeesstuff · 4 months

Text

Request: heyy idk if you write for bucky barnes but if you do could you do a bucky x little reader who's never had someone who actually cared for her? like she never had a cg or her parents always neglected her so she keeps feeling like shes a burden to Bucky?

For @crazyforbarnes - I hope you enjoy!

Notes: GN!Reader, fluff, angst, mentions of trust issues and neglect

Not alone anymore

Work. Home. Eat. Sleep.

The repetitive routine was long and hard but you just kept pushing through. You had always had to work hard and you had no choice but to work in the little downtown cafe to pay rent and bills.

Of course Bucky had tried to encourage you to move in with him, but you were so ingrained into your own personal survival mode that you kept refusing.

The only escape you had was stepping into your little apartment, or into Bucky's floor in the Tower and letting yourself regress.

Unfortunately, there was a difference between regressing alone and with Bucky.

When alone you could be as little as 3, and you had the small spare room as your little space so that you wouldn't hurt yourself.

With Bucky, you never got younger than 6/7.

To say you had parental issues was an overstatement. Born the 7th child of a family that couldn't care for themselves you were often neglected and left to look after yourself.

So when Bucky stepped into his place as your dada, you couldn't stop yourself from still trying to be independent.

It was finally the weekend and you were staying with Bucky in the Tower. He was in the kitchen cooking as you finished up some paperwork.

You had been pushing away your regression for the whole week, under pressure to finish this project but now you were just overwhelmed, over tired, hungry, and frustrated.

All too big for your little brain to handle at the moment.

Bucky had a 6th sense about your regression. He knew that you were holding back but he always let you do what you wanted to do so that he could build that trust. He knew that you struggled to let anyone in and to let yourself be loved, but he hated seeing how hard you worked yourself because you believed that was the only way you would be worthy of attention and praise.

With a dish towel slung over his shoulder he walked up behind you where you were working at the dining table and gently starts to rub your shoulders, hoping to give you a little nudge towards regressing.

"Hiya pumpkin, dinner is almost ready. How about we get you into some comfies, huh?"

His voice was a soft rumble, tugging at that loose thread in your head in hopes that it would all unravel.

"Can't da-Bucky, gotta finish 'dis" Your own words were soft and slurred as you did feel yourself slipping.

The appeal of getting into comfy pjs and cuddling your dada while a movie played was slowly starting to take over the urge to finish the project.

"Hmmm.... Pumpkin, it's not your job to finish all this. You can go in on Monday and your team can help you. You need to rest too. You deserve it"

You shook your head, doubling down on your work. Your stubbornness drew a sigh from Bucky who gently took the pencil from you and pulled the chair away from the desk so you couldn't keep working.

He squatted down, cool metal hand cupping your cheek as he guides you to look at him.

"Baby, it's time to stop. No more working tonight, how about we-"

"But I have to finish dis!" You normally would never interrupt Bucky, but right now you were on the verge of regressing and also your exhaustion and frustration was starting to manifest itself as a temper tantrum.

Rather than getting frustrated, Bucky held your hands in his, attempting to calm you down a little bit.

"Pumpkin... can you tell me why you don't want me to look after you and help you regress? Am I doing something wrong?"

Bucky felt confused. He worked so hard to make you feel safe and comfortable when you regressed, but it was as if you didn't trust him.

"I- I, you not doing something wrong.." Your speech started to slip more and more, your own frustrations becoming too difficult to explain.

"I just never had a daddy or mummy.... always jus' me"

You couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky as you spoke, instead deciding to look at your feet.

Bucky felt his heart break at your words. It wasn't that you didn't trust him- you simply didn't know how to let yourself be little and let someone look after you.

"Ok..... ok. Pumpkin, how about tonight we try something different, hmm? How about dada makes all the big decisions and you can just relax"

Bucky hoped that by getting you to agree to let him make decisions that you would let yourself properly regress without your survival instincts kicking in.

You take a moment to think about it.... it did sound nice to have dada making all the big decisions...

Finally you nod and Bucky breaks out into a big smile, kissing your forehead.

"That's dada's brave lil' pumpkin! Now, let's get you into some comfies"

Scooping you up into his arms, Bucky walks into his room, all the while pressing kisses over your cheeks, forehead, and nose.

By your little giggles, he was already very aware that you had regressed younger than you ever had before with him.

However, when you first brought up age regression he had done so much research and had bought a load of different things for different ages.

Wanting to give you the best experience as he could, he kept you on his hip as he dug around in his drawers for a duck print onesie that he had always wanted to use.

Once he had it, he sat you on the bed and helped you get changed.

"Aaand there goes one sock! And two socks! Now we gotta lift those little arms up to take your top off- that's it, you are doing so good Pumpkin!"

Soon you were in the fluffy duck print onesie, with fluffy socks in to protect your feet from the cold tiles of the floor.

Before leaving the room, he snuck a paci into his pocket.

Bucky took you through to the living room, setting you down on the massive sofa and making sure that you were propped up by pillows. He asked Jarvis to put on Bluey for you while he went and sorted dinner.

He could still see you from the open plan kitchen as he put the meal that he had originally prepared in the fridge and instead made you a plate of chicken nuggets, apple slices, cheese cubes, carrots and some goldfish crackers.

You were really engrossed in the cartoon that Bucky had to sit you on his lap and hand fed you your food.

He praised you for every bite and kissed your cheeks when you finished everything.

It felt so natural to be looking after you like this. You let yourself relax and you were so desperate for it that you couldn't even try to look after yourself.

Soon you were full and snuggled up on Buckys lap, staring to doze off as your day of big emotions caught up with you. Looking down to check up on you, Bucky smiled as he sees that you have put your thumb in your mouth as you self soothe.

"Oh baby, let's not put our fingers in our mouth- look, dada has a paci for you"

He gently pulls your thumb out of your mouth, aware that you are half asleep and eases the paci in to replace it.

Your eyes slip shut as you sook on the paci, your body finally giving in and letting you drift off to dreamland.

Bucky waits for a couple of minutes, to make sure he doesn't disturb you, before slowly standing up and carrying you to bed.

He asks Jarvis to turn everything off as he tucks you into bed before quickly changing into his own pyjama pants and laying in bed, tucking you into his chest.

Sometimes you will have bad days, ones where you feel like you have to look after yourself. But Bucky will always be there to help you.

#agere little #little!reader #littlereader #sfw little community #sfw little post #little reader #sfw little blog #bucky x little!reader #bucky

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swallowedbymadness · 10 months

Text

♡ heavy on your tongue ♡

Pairing: hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: the fluffiest smut for all the softies out there

Summary: You unexpectedly show up at your best friend’s apartment one rainy October night with unspoken feelings on the tip of your tongue.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: hiiiiiii! This is my first fic posted so I’m a bit nervous. Thank you to the very darling @babesindestroyland for your sweet words and encouraging me to post this. For the most immaculate vibes, listen to Mind Over Matter (Reprise) by Young the Giant. 18+ content beyond the line — No minors please. Enjoy! ✨

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, and tooth rotting sweet romance 🥹

Proofread: Too many times to count bc I’m a perfectionist.

The rain pattered loudly against the window of his apartment, the lights turned off so that the small flames of the candles melting slowly onto dusty wine bottles could dance against the brick walls surrounding the two of you. It had been three years since you’d seen Hongjoong. Friends that surely longed to be more, but it was never the right time.

Now...now was the time. You had decided this once you found yourself standing outside of his apartment one rainy October night. You weren’t sure why you were there, but you didn’t dare question it. He was your best friend, so why did it feel so foreign to be there?

With a sudden rush of adrenaline moving through your nervous veins, you find yourself knocking lightly on his door, rocking back and forth on your heels. When the door slowly swings open, you’re met with his dark hair hanging in his eyes, the round metal frames adorning his face that were entirely too big and hung low atop the bridge of his nose. His eyes went wide at the sight of you in front of him. A finger pushed the glasses up as he blinked at you. His mouth fell open slightly while a shaky hand ran through his chocolate hair. He cleared his throat, unsure what to say in the moment, too afraid that this was all just another fever dream.

“Hi,” you supplied, hoping to fill the awkward silence with something, anything really.

“Hey,” the greeting slipped out automatically, not entirely sure if his brain was playing tricks on him again. Had he fallen asleep into another dream of you? He hadn’t stopped seeing your face everywhere he went since you left. Ever since you left that summer afternoon all those years ago, taking his heart with you. He swears he still sees visions of you walking down the crowded streets of the city, or sitting at your favorite table inside of the cafe you used to frequent together after class. You didn’t know it, but you kept the beating organ safe in your hands while he patiently waited for you to bring it back home to him. He never actually wanted it back, rather he wanted to see that you still held onto it as tenderly as you once had.

With a lump in his throat, he tried to swallow it and pleaded with his brain to form a tangible thought for a decent reply other than the one word he’s offered to you already. To his dismay, nothing came out. Instead, the words played at the back of his throat teasingly.

“I’m sorry this is so unexpected of me, I don’t even know what I was thinking. You’re probably busy and it’s the middle of the night...I’ll just go.”

“No-no, please. Stay.” His voice was laced with something needy as his hand reached out to grip your wrist. If he was dreaming, he didn’t want to wake up just yet. He needed more time with you. It was never enough time. “I mean...come in. Please. You must be freezing, and I just ordered pizza.” A hopeful grin appeared on his face, his eyes pleaded with you to just come inside and provide him with your company for even a moment.

You nodded, matching his small smile as a blush dusted across your cheeks and a familiar warmth began to spread throughout your chest. He never once let go of your wrist, his grip lightly tightening ever so often to ensure that you were truly real.

He shut the door and led you over to the living room where he then threw two black velvet cushions from the couch onto the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Please, have a seat,” he let go reluctantly and made his way to his tiny kitchen where the box of pizza sat untouched next to an unopened bottle of red wine. He plucked two glasses from the shelf just above his eye level and eagerly made his way back to your side, heart now making its way down into his stomach as he stopped in the doorway. He allowed himself a moment to stare at the back of your head, the way your skin reflected the soft candlelight so beautifully. He made his way back into the living room after deciding staring at you would only set his insides on fire the longer he gazed. He set the box down, clumsily opening the bottle and pouring the crimson liquid into both glasses, hoping you wouldn’t see the way his hand ever so lightly trembled in your presence.

“Thank you,” you said shyly. You allowed your eyes to follow his every movement until he sat beside you. You noted how he had ordered your usual, your chest beginning to light up with fireflies with the thought that he remembered your favorite after all this time. He took a slice and bit into it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed, his head nodding in approval. Your heart fluttered with adoration when you saw the grease begin to stick to the corners of his mouth the more he ate. The two of you sat there in comfortable silence like you hadn’t been separated for years. That was the thing about Joong. It was just so easy.

As the candles melted and the air surrounding you two was filled with laughter as you exchanged stories to bring each other up to speed on your lives, you couldn’t help but spot a familiar glint in his eyes, the sparkle never fading, even after all these years. It was comforting to know that even after being apart for so long, his feelings were a constant.

He sipped the remainder of his wine before hopping up and waltzing over to his beloved record player that he spent an obscene amount of money on for the aesthetics, as he once told you that one winter afternoon at the little thrift shop just a few blocks from your favorite coffee shop. He put a record on and slowly allowed the needle to drop, the fuzzy static at the beginning of the vinyl filling the room. Once the smooth piano came sounding out of the record player, he came back over, offering his hand out in front of you. He sported a lazy smile, a light haze surrounding your figure as his eyes focused on you. He swore you stole his breath away from him in that moment, the shadows dancing against your soft features.

You let your hand slip into his and he pulled you to your feet, pulling you close to his chest as he began to sway you both to the beat of the music. You recalled the times he would dance like this with you. On nights when you both couldn’t sleep, or when you woke from a nightmare and needed someone to hold at two in the morning but your empty apartment would soon be filled with his comforting presence in a heartbeat. That’s the thing about Hongjoong. He was always there, and if he wasn’t, he would be there. No matter what. You sighed into his collarbone as you felt the heavy thump of his heart from underneath his rib cage.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” you find yourself whispering against the mole on his neck, unaware of the shiver that is suddenly sent down his spine.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” he purred into your ear. “For you to be in my arms like this again,” His hands caressed your sides, the delicate brush of his fingertips sending shivers all over your body as he pulled you closer to him. Your head was rested in the crook of his neck now, arms tangled together between both of your chests as he clutched your hands in his. You two swayed slowly to the vinyl playing in the background, the air between you two thick with an unspoken desire. You inhaled deeply, reminding your senses of his cologne that used to stain the fibers of your sheets years ago. “I’ve missed you,” his voice came out as a strained whisper, the emotion dripping from his tongue like honey.

“I’ve missed you too, Joong. I’m sorry it took so long.” He hummed in response, lifting your chin so your eyes could meet as he pressed your foreheads together.

“Never apologize for bettering yourself.” You looked up at him through your lashes, his features soft with the warm glow of the flames surrounding you. “I’m just glad you didn’t forget about me.”

“Oh Hongjoong,” you placed your palm on his cheek, your thumb rubbing softly at the porcelain skin. “I could never forget you.” His eyes visibly softened as your melodic confession poured from your lips. He needed to taste your words on his tongue, he needed to so he knew they were real. Daringly, he dipped down and pressed his plush lips to yours, his tongue smoothing across your bottom lip, tasting the sweet words you kept hidden there. Always on the tip of your tongue, but could never get them out.

But not tonight.

He began walking you backwards until your back softly pressed against the wall. His hands roamed your curves while his mouth explored every inch of your own. You couldn’t help the small breathy moan that escaped into his desperate mouth, making him press up against you harder until you could feel the outline of his arousal against your thigh.

“Please,” is all he let slip in between wet kisses and rushed breaths. All you could do was nod, knowing exactly what he asked for. Your hands cupped his face, your lips smashing into his in hopes that you could merge into him like your heart ached to do. You wanted to reside within him, crawl into his rib cage and form a home around his sacred bones where it felt safe. He was home, and you never wanted to leave the shelter that was him.

“Joong, please, I-” your breath hitched as his lips ghosted against yours, his hands aching to touch every inch of you as they hovered over your skin, the tension becoming too much to bear.

“I know...Me too.” His breath flooded your space, and your stomach flipped with anticipation. You closed your eyes, not sure if you could look at him any longer without losing yourself completely to his delicate touch.

Soon you felt his cool fingers unbuttoning the front of your blouse, his fingers tracing delicately over the soft skin of your chest, enjoying the way you shivered underneath his loving touch. He pushed the delicate fabric away, revealing your bare trembling figure. He relished in the way every curve hugged the shadows around you, the way he could see your nipples begin to harden underneath the lace of your bralette as the fabric of your shirt lightly grazed your breasts before falling daintily over your shoulders. His calloused hands tossed it to the floor and grazed your skin, taking his time to remember how you felt under his fingertips. Your warmth felt like the heat of a thousand suns, burning him to the touch, but gods, he couldn’t get enough of it.

You giggled and took the frames from his face and put them down on the coffee table when you noticed a slight fog begin to form on the lenses.

“You won’t be needing these,” your eyes fell back on his panting chest, watching as his trembling fingers fumbled with the small buttons. He was so eager and you felt your heart swell. You reached your calm hands out and grabbed his, feeling the buzz of anticipation through his fingertips. His wide eyes landed on yours, lost in the moment completely. Your grounding presence refocused his hazy vision, a silent affirmation sent to him from your gentle touch calmed him down immensely. “It’s okay Joong. We don’t need to rush this.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just…”

“Shh,” your slender finger made its way to his lips, a small coo to silence his anxious rambling. “None of that now. Just come here,” you grab him by the belt loops of his jeans and pull him closer to you, eyes hooded and hoping they were saying more than what your words ever could. “Just love me.”

Both of his hands wrapped around the base of your face, fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he reconnected your desperate lips, this time there was no trace of nerves present between the two of you. He needed you to know he heard you loud and clear, and would not stop until you felt as loved as humanly possible. The craving to be inside you, connected to you, as close as he could physically be to you set his skin on fire, an ache he needed to soothe. You were quick to assist with removing his shirt as he had yours, and you reached back to unclasp the thin lace from your figure, letting it drop between the two of you. You brought his hands from your face down to your breasts, encouraging him to play with the sensitive buds that awaited his eager touch. There was no hesitation on his part as he took your hardening bud in between his finger and thumb, massaging it roughly. You could feel the heat begin to fill your abdomen, the waves of pleasure flowing through you instantly. You moaned into his mouth while your shaking awaiting fingers impatiently undid the button and zipper on his jeans to allow your hand access to what you needed.

Hongjoong guided you over to the couch, leaving his jeans behind and sitting down in front of you. You stepped out of the remainder of your clothes to be left in nothing but dainty lace, much to his enjoyment. His hands clutched your hips as you stood in front of him, his lips leaving sloppy wet kisses on your stomach, your hips, your thighs, any skin he would get his hands on. You tilted your head back with your eyes closed as you felt his tongue drag against your sensitive skin, his lips lazily nipping at your most ticklish spots. Your fingers found their way into his hair, scratching his scalp and gripping his silky chocolate strands.

“Joong,” you sighed his name when you felt his finger tease at the elastic of your panties, his tongue snaking across your hip bone after lightly sinking his teeth into the delicate skin and sucking possessively. A wave of arousal spiked through his veins at the sound of his name falling from your swollen lips.

Once getting the lacy garment off of your skin, Hongjoong’s fingers grazed the outline of your core, your cheeks flushing at the realization of how damp you already were for him. He got down on his knees, hooking one if your legs over his shoulder and looked up at you from beneath his thick lashes.

“I’ve waited so long to have the taste of you on my tongue, baby. Will you let me?”

“Please,” You lightly panted as the pit of your stomach tightened with anticipation, his hot breath ghosting over your clit and sending your mind into a haze. With small kitten licks, he tried pacing himself as he got his first taste of you, but once your juices met his tongue, he felt an insatiable hunger take hold of him. “Devour me,” you found yourself saying under your breath. His gut twisted in the most sensational way, his cock twitching at the breathy moan. He did not hold back any longer, his tongue gliding all over and in between your folds, eliciting a surprised moan from you. His warm tongue was suddenly inserted into your awaiting pussy, eliciting more beautiful noises from your chest. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he worked his magic, humming against you when you began subconsciously moving your hips in time with him. When he felt you begin to clench around his tongue he immediately pulled away, your sweet juices shining on his chin as he flashed a devilish smile your way.

“Not yet, pretty baby.” He cooed, standing up and bringing his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch, not realizing that you were now craving it even more than you initially thought. “I want to look into your eyes when you come undone for me.” He let his hand lazily drop down to yours and pulled you close to him, guiding your hand down to his throbbing member. “Look what you do to me,” he wrapped your hand around his shaft, squeezing your hand that had wrapped around him without any thought. A raspy groan escaped his lungs when you began to slowly pump his member, the veins prominent and pre-cum leaking from the swollen rosy tip. He backed up, the back of his legs hitting the couch and he gripped your hips as he sat down on the couch with his legs spread. He guided you to hover over him, your chest nearly pressed against his as you slowly sank down onto his eager cock.

The pressure of your tight walls engulfing him, the stretch making both of you gasp at the pleasurable fit. You sat like that for a moment, allowing yourselves to take in every sensation and emotion you felt. You felt small tears threaten your eyes as your heart melted inside of your rib cage.

You felt the overwhelming amount of love for him begin to surface. There was just so much.

So so much.

“Hey,” he whispered, his blown out eyes soft and focused on yours. He cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the sticky flesh. “I’m right here,” his attempt at bringing you back to him was small but it was successful. His grounding touch helped the haze clear your mind as you were brought back to the moment, not realizing you had gotten lost in the emotion of the sacred act that was currently taking place. You closed your eyes and took in the sound of the dull scratch of the vinyl that had finished long ago in the background. The quiet beat of his heart pounding wildly in time with yours as you opened your eyes, all you saw was him.

Your breath hitched at the slow, deep and intentional pumps he made into you, each one making his tip push deliciously against your wildly sensitive spot. You felt yourself move your hips in a circular motion on top of him, your trembling hands making their way to his shoulders to steady yourself while you moved. You relished in the way your clit rubbed against his pelvis to stimulate the swollen bud between your legs. The pace picked up out of desperation for a shared release, but you both had a longing for the moment to last, so you pushed the warm feeling that bubbled in your abdomen down as much as you could. His hands splayed across your back, gripping your love handles that he adored dearly and dragged his nails down the delicate skin gently, most definitely leaving a raised and agitated trail.

“This,” his breath was lost at the sight of you coming completely unraveled in his embrace, your eyes never leaving his as you became as close as humanly possible. “Oh my gods, it’s all for you,” he moaned and his head lolled forward, your sticky foreheads now touching as he began to thrust lovingly into you. “Only you.” He repeated, like a prayer spilling from the lips of the most devoted disciple as an offering at the altar. You were a goddess, an absolutely divine being in his eyes. Birthed from the womb of Aphrodite herself. He was most certain with the way you glistened in the candle light above him, mouth slightly agape as your hips rolled and your curves moved in the sexiest way. If this was heaven, he did not wish to return to earth. He would pray to any god to live in this moment forever. A slow and sensual pace was what he desired. He wanted to savor every minute, remember every feeling you gave him while his member was deep inside your walls.

“Oh baby, fuck. I’m-I’m gonna-” you whined, feeling the peak of your orgasm rush to your core ready to explode. He took your face in his hands and crashed your lips together sloppily as he thrusted into you harder, riding out his own high through the stars he was seeing behind his eyes. You felt his warm seed spill into you, still bouncing lazily on top of him until your bodies came back down to earth. You collapsed your sweaty body to his, his fingers grazing your back lovingly while he enjoyed the weight of you on top of him. You both were panting, a small exhausted laugh coming from him as you lay there in comfortable silence.

“What?” You tried lifting your head, but ended up with your head in the crook of his neck, your nose nuzzling into the damp skin.

“Nothing. I just…” he paused, running his fingers through your hair, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “I can’t believe we just did that” Another breathy laugh rumbled under his chest.

“I know,” you admit, your lids heavy as he played with your hair. “I didn’t realize I needed that.”

“I’ve always needed that.” He let the confession drip from his lips honestly, nothing holding him back any longer. “I’ve always needed you. And I don’t think I could ever want anyone else after that.” You felt your lips tug into a proud smile, your heart melting like ice cream in the middle of June. “I love you.” His words hung in the air surrounding you two, a response not required but hoped for. You sat up in his lap, his flaccid member resting in the confines of your walls still. You weren’t quite ready for the empty feeling once he pulled himself out of you, the fullness of him making you feel whole. Your hands rested on his flushed cheeks and you leaned down to press your lips to his forehead, then each of his closed eyelids. The tip of his nose next, and finally on his lips ever so slightly. You stayed there, hovering over his mouth, the words heavy on your tongue and ready for release. After all this time, you found yourself not afraid to let go of everything you kept inside for so long.

“I love you too, Joong.” You whispered against his swollen lips, kissing each corner of his mouth and leaning back to gaze at his stunning disheveled state. With eyes blown out completely, a few tears streamed down his cheeks at the late night confession you offered him. “I’ve loved you for seven summers now. Each one I found myself loving you more and more. The longer I was away from you, the more that love grew.” Your fingers brushed the strands of hair back that were stuck to his forehead, your own eyes watering as you allowed the affection to pour out of you. “Hongjoong, I’ve loved you for seven summers, and I will love you for many more.”

You felt your walls begin to clench around nothing as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and longing for the intimate feeling he took away from you. He spread himself out across the couch and pulled you down onto his chest as he played with your fingers. Your eyes closed, exhaustion settling in quick as his fingers continued to graze across your back lovingly. As you drifted off, you almost missed his last confession of the night before he too lost consciousness.

“I have never loved anyone the way that I love you, and I don’t think I ever could.”

#ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong smut #khj

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billskeis · 2 months

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this was a req from anon that was suuuper long but needless to say im obsessed ^.^

ᡣ𐭩 bill’s a stalking pervert

bill’s a pervert. a real, pervert. and not in the way you think. he’s not obvious. he won’t look up your skirt as you walk up the flight of stairs in front of him. he won’t stare down your cleavage as you yell and nag at him for calling you a ‘bitch’ as your tits press close together with the cross of your arms. god no, he’s not that stupid. he plans everything through.

at a good distance away, your house resides a couple houses down from him. perfect for you not to notice the way he’ll angle his head to get a perfect of you slipping out of your outfit, stripping completely naked to then put on a night gown. he relishes in the sight of your body, watering at the mouth. every inch and curve of yours was just utterly perfect to him. he gets hard thinking about running his hands on your soft and supple skin.

he takes pictures, a lot of them. don’t be surprised if you were to ever stumble upon his room and find a few of them pinned to a bulletin board on his wall. decorated nice and neat. one of the pictures he has is of a portrait of you, with a black-sharpie heart drawn on it. most of them were candids, of course, others taken from your social media and social media’s of your friends, and your friends friends, desperate to find anything of you.

try not to be surprised either at the fact he will have a photo of you by his bedside table, with a roll of toilet paper and body lotion.

one day he was following you while you were out on a weekday meeting up with a friend from work. you greeted your friend who was running a little late, embracing her in a friendly hug as the two of you sat down at the cafe table, drinks already ordered. was he sitting at the table next to you in some gaudy disguise? no, too weird. was he peeking through like a peeping tom from the entrance door? god no, he’s not an amateur.

he sat in his car, parked in the parking lot in front of the cafe as he adjusted the earbud he wore. while talking about friends and family, your friend brought up the odd question of what you thought of bill. cringing, you question her as to why she was asking this in the first place and she had mentioned how you two had always bitched at each other, to what she refers to as ‘a little too close for comfort to be just enemies.’

you roll your eyes at her, immediately beginning to throw insults at the man she spoke of. his heart stung a little, pouting at he looked at you through the car window while listening to the microphone of your friend’s earbud on the opposite side, hidden behind the locs of her hair so you wouldn’t notice that bill had been on call with her this whole time.

he had bribed her. but not to mention despite being your friend, she was closely acquainted to him more than she was with you, the money just had to be the cherry on top. feeling a little upset, he suddenly can’t help the gasp that let out his mouth when you told your friend that ‘despite him being hot, i don’t think he’d ever want to get with me, he hates me!’

oh how he was gonna change your mind.

turning the metal knob, you stop the shower water running as you exit the glass enclosure. wrapping yourself in the soft fuzzy towel, you step out of the bathroom into your bedroom, hair slightly dripping onto the wooden floor that creaked beneath your footsteps.

noticing that your closet door was left slightly open, you quirked an eyebrow up. what the hell? you thought you closed it before you left your room to go freshen up. you always leave it closed. well, it didn’t matter anyways because you needed to grab some clothes anyways.

opening the closet door, you heart almost sunk six feet under the ground as you were met with a figure you were least expecting. it was bill fucking kaulitz, your D1 enemy, standing, there, in your goddamn closet. you almost let out a shriek until he immediately covered your mouth with his palm. pressed his body against your half naked one, only the cover-up of your towel separating the two of you.

you blink fast. scared, anxious, what the hell was he doing in your room. he looked calm, but a little nervous. your heavy suffocated breaths are the only noise that fill the room, as he tells you to calm down, you attempt to slow your breathing. not wanting to concern anyone in your family, you comply with his orders. it would be a bad spot if any of them were to find you half naked with a complete stranger, a man, at that.

“gonna keep quiet?” you nod, you wanted answers. you wanted to know why the man you thought to dislike you, along with someone who you’d disliked so much was doing in the vicinity of your bedroom. letting his palm go away from your face, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “well?? what the fuck are you doing here!? how—how the hell did you get inside??”

“does that really matter right now? aren’t you glad to see me?” he holds his arms out, waiting for your response. he knows just how to push your buttons, you bite your lip. god was he tall, he had to look down at you for the two of you to make eye contact. this fucker was lucky that he was good looking, or else you would’ve called the cops. pretty privilege amiright?

“get the hell out.” “princess—” “i said, get the hell out, bill.” bill can only stare at you. staring you down, his eyes shift up and down your figure. you can feel his gaze on you. of course, he was standing right in front of you, acting as if he wasn’t undressing you with his eyes. your face heats up, could it be you’re feeling shy that he was looking at you with such lust or the fact that you had taken a steaming hot shower not too long ago?

he steps a little closer to you, you take a step back to keep a distance. “prinzessin, bitte.. i need you so bad.. i don’t think you understand how much i want you. wanted you. i craved for this moment for ever.. can’t you make my dreams come true..?” you’re at a loss for words, totally unbelieving the words that are coming out of his mouth. he wants you?? does this mean he likes you??

“i came to see you, i love you.. and i want you to make me yours..” “i.. c-can i get a moment to think about this?? you’re moving way too fast—” pulling you into a hug, you towel could threaten to fall off if he were to let go, his body slightly unravelling the heavy cloth that wraps around your body. your head was pressed against his chest, you hear his heartbeat. it’s fast and never stopping.

“y/n please!! i can’t wait for your response.. just please let me out you out.. please let me fuck you.. i only want you to feel good.” his black dreads drape over and tickle your shoulders as he nuzzles his head into your neck. as he begged and he begged, you can feel his hard-on pressed into your thigh. swallowing, you let the lump go down your throat as you whisper him a small ‘fine.’ he can’t help but let out a moan of joy, clearly relieved by your answer. he’s so happy. he’s so happy he gets to go down on his favourite girl.

your legs clamps around bill’s head. a grip entangled in his black locs as you form a makeshift ponytail with your hands to hold bill’s dreads back away from his face as he eats you out. he’s starved, hungry, licking at your folds if it were his last meal on earth. his moans vibrate in your pussy, his nose nudging your clit as he motions his head up and down.

he wouldn’t be able to stop now, and neither were you going to be able to stop him. he’s been dreaming of this, dreaming of the day that he would be able to use your body as he likes. he wouldn’t wanna use you like that though! he loves you too much, he only cares about your pleasure, if you’re feeling good, he comes second in this equation.

“auugh, b-bill..” you thrash your head back into the pillow as he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, “you taste sooo fuckin’ good..” as he eats you out sloppily, he purposely sucks at your cunt in a way that the noises are only what’s heard in your bedroom.

he wanted to be gentle! trust me, he did! bill would only want the best for his girl’s first time. you let him know before he went down on you, telling you that it was okay and just let him do all the work for now. but he can’t get enough of the taste, it’s like nectar to him. he can’t get enough of how sweet your moans are either, how his name just so easily rolls of his tongue other than in the context of you screaming in his face.

your juices drip down his chin, and he looks up at you from between your thighs. expecting, his eyes look as though he expects you to say something, “feel s’good billy.. m’gunna cum soon..!” and this fires him up even more, wrapping both his arms around your legs to bury his face into your pussy even more. messily lapping at the wetness, he places wet kisses on your clit as he whimpers at how pretty your puffy, sensitive cunt is. suddenly, he stops.

“s’pretty, but i want you to come on this dick. get up schatzi..” with weak wobbly legs, you prop yourself up on the bed, crawling to bill who’s already sat up against the bed frame. nervously, you bring your hands to palm bill through his sweatpants, a wince escaping his lips as he slightly trembles.

“shit..” “sensitive are ya?” you let out a soft giggle as he nods his head, biting his bottom lip a little too hard that it may bleed. you free his cock from its constraints to see it stand tall. fuck. he’s huge. you pray to the gods he doesn’t rip you apart, with such a length and girth. it’s a pretty shade of pink, and it leaks pre, a lot of it.

bill brings his hand to jerk himself off, as you position yourself within his lap, cunt slightly hovering over him. both prepped, he asks if you’re ready, and with just a nod, he pushes himself into you. slow, he inches his dick into the tight walls of your cunt, letting out a wanton moan as tears begin to fill his eyes. he’s so sensitive, with just the tip inside, he might already come. his dreams were finally coming to life, and it’s all thanks to you :3.

he wanted to wait for you to feel adjusted to his size. he knows he’s big, he just doesn’t flaunt it, wanting to save himself in surprising you with it of course. sitting there, he holds your hips as he can only moan out words of affirmation to you, telling you how pretty you look perched up on his cock or how good you tasted.

as good as he knows how to get under your skin, you also learnt today how good he was at making you nervous. what a little shithead he is, isn’t he? to no further notice, you begin to bounce your hips on his cock, cunt sliding up and down his length as your walls mould to the shape of him.

“a-amazing.. you feel s’good.. don’t stop—oh god—p-please don’t stop!” a tear falls down bill’s cheek as he whimpers from the way you fuck your hips back onto his. a heavy slapping sound fills the room as you ride him with no intent to stop and his sensitive dick can only hold out so much..

bill’s gaze cannot seem to focus on one thing. the way your tits bounce with how hard you ride him, or how your cunt just envelopes his dick. he doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he lets them fall to the side of his body. as you do all the work, you smirk, suddenly clenching around bill as he gasps. eyes widening as he cries out from the pleasure.

he’s pathetic. a complete and utter sobbing mess. dreads prettily framing his face as his black eyeshadow runs down it. rising your hips, you attempt to get the both of you off as quick as possible. you notice how bill squints his eyes shut, he’s concentrating on trying not to come too fast. cupping his cheek with your hand, he opens his eyes in shock, quickly nuzzling his face to stifle his moans into your palm as he shies away.

“mmphf.. s’happy.. s’glad you said, ah! y-yes..” “yea?? you happy?” “mmhm!!” and that’s what did it for you. while bringing your face closer to his, you kiss bill hard as you shove your tongue in his mouth, invading his as you piston your hips on his. you grin at the whorish moans he lets out into the kiss, tongues swirling within one another as bill attempts to catch his breath, wanting to let go but you only kiss him deeper.

he’s pussy drunk, it’s like a drug. and for what seemed like forever, bill’s orgasm came as he filled your insides, cum spurting to paint the insides of you white. he wraps his arms around you to bring your torsos closer together. thighs trembling, bill only fucks himself deeper than he already is, hitting your cervix straight on as his cum fills your womb.

the cord in your stomach finally snapped as your orgasm followed shortly after, electricity pulsing through your body as you clenched around him. as you break off the kiss, a string of saliva following, heavy pants are exchanged as the two of you stare at one another. “you okay?” you ask bill, he seems way more disheveled than you were, “mm’kay.. that was.. amazing..”

“don’t tell me that was your first time too? “s-shut up..” you laugh as you wipe the sweat off his forehead, putting some of his dreads behind his ears as you peck the tip of his nose. bill only smiles at you, telling you that he’s sorry about earlier. you can only shake your head at him and tell him that despite the fact he could’ve confessed any other way, you didn’t mind this, telling him that you also like him.

bill’s heart can only skip a beat as you lead him into the washroom to run a nice warm bath.

so rip to everyone else who was in that house >.> anon also wanted aftercare but im lazy this is all u get >:3

gn guys ! i did not proofread this .. or any of my works matter of fact :p

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

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bimboamyrose · 8 months

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Unfamiliar - Ch. 16: The Fool

Art: @mmm-asbestos ☆ First 2 chapters ☆ Prev. (Ch. 15) ☆ AO3

Ch. 16 - The Fool

“Did you have an errand in town or something?” Amy sensed his anxiety.

In minutes, the pair were miles away. They quickly found themselves in town, in the center of a populated shopping area. Some passerby who recognized Sonic began rubbernecking as they milled about.

He shifted his vision around apprehensively as he allowed Amy to step down from his arms.

“Do you think he’s tailing us? Don’t think it’s the best idea to bring him right back to your place, considering…”

“I don’t think Eggman has anything fast enough to keep up with you” she started. “Oh- well, not anymore. Besides, you’re hungry, remember?” Amy joked. They stood near a selection of restaurants and cafes.

“Oh- yeah!” Sonic exhaled. “We should give Tails a call, though-”

“Let’s not,” Amy blurted out. It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned it, but this was just the opportunity she needed to be alone with Sonic.

“Huh? Why?”

“I didn’t bring my communicator,” she tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’ll just run over there-”

Amy dashed past him to a glass storefront, gasping theatrically. “I’ve been wanting to check out this new cafe!”

“Well I was thinking to grab Tails and-”

“Let’s sit down inside!” Amy insisted, pushing her way through the front doors.

Not in an arguing mood, Sonic followed inside begrudgingly.

A hostess escorted them to a small table by a window. It overlooked a fountain in the square. It was past lunchtime, but a few other pairs lingered in neighboring tables; couples gazing dreamily at each other or sharing desserts. Sonic shifted his own eyes to the window. He fidgeted in his chair.

“So,” Amy sighed, “that was… interesting.”

“No kidding.” He didn’t turn to her.

“He… knows about Metal,” she continued.

Sonic spun back to face her gravely.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way he’s listening to us here. Relax!”

“Guess you’re right.” He turned bleakly back to the window. “What do we do?”

Amy was unsure herself. “Maybe… Going to this grand opening thing won’t be so bad?”

“Come on, Ames, that’s an obvious trap.” Sonic leaned an elbow onto the table and turned to her. “And what about your roommate? Eggman kinda owns him.”

“Metal will make the right choice,” she waved off his question.

He looked skeptical. “Why are you so confident about that?”

“‘Cause,” she trailed off, unclear of her own reasoning. “Well, he barely even remembers right now. I’m not worried about him.”

“Eggman wants him back.” Sonic returned with a concerned frown. “He can’t live with you forever.”

“I know,” Amy replied sheepishly. There hadn’t been much thought put into what exactly was going to happen to Metal, or when. Though she understood Metal couldn’t hang around much longer if she got involved with Sonic.

“What do you think he wants him for?”

“To… build?” Amy shrugged. “It seems like Eggman’s only priority right now.”

The pair each looked somberly to the window until they caught each other’s eyes in the reflections. Amy pouted, uncertain of what else to say about the situation. Sonic grinned at his friend gingerly and met her face to face.

“We always figure it out,” he said as confidently as he could manage. “We’re a great team, after all.”

The misgiving situation weighed on Sonic, his usual direct approach to problems ineffective in all the uncertainty. But he was nothing if not a pacesetter for his team. It didn’t do them any good for him to be gloomy.

“Yeah,” Amy smiled with a similar hesitance.

A waiter interrupted them with his introduction. The short minutes they spent ordering lavish sounding drinks and pastries calming Amy and Sonic. By the time the waiter retracted the menus, the two had relaxed in their chairs. They smiled more comfortably now, no less uncertain but confident they could tackle the situation as a team.

“If Metal’s really on our side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to send the guy back his bot,” Sonic commented between bites of a croissant.

“If he wants to go back.” Amy took a sip from her tea, lifting her eyes to him over the rim, hesitant about what he’d think of the remark.

“Well if you want him on the team,” Sonic shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not about what I want…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sonic smiled at her knowingly. “Metal can do what he wants. I won’t give him a hard time- if he really isn’t up to something with Eggman.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll talk to him.” Amy was eager to get off the subject.

“So… what’d you think of the food?”

“Pretty good, I guess.” Sonic took a sip from a tall glass of some kind of local handcrafted soda the waiter had offered as an alternative to tea and coffee. It was the only drink that sounded mildly good to him. “Little fancy, though.”

“Mhm…”

She reached into her pocket for the all-important card she’d pulled that morning and told herself it was time to broach the subject. Her cheeks felt warm.

“I like it,” she continued, “It’s kinda- I don’t know- romantic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess you could say that.” He took an uncomfortable look around the room, sucking up his drink impetuously.

Amy brought her cup back to her lips apprehensively. “It’s a cute place for a date. Maybe- maybe we can come back for one sometime?”

A fizzy gulp caused Sonic to cough and clear his throat. Amy blinked at him from behind her teacup, hiding her flushed face, panicking internally.

“I-” he started, pausing to clear his throat a second time. He looked away from her in embarrassment. “I mean, we’re not, uh, dating, though.” A flight response kicked in and he glanced toward the front door.

“But… We could be.” Her words were a demure squeak. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m gonna be heading back to Tails’, I think-”

“Sonic.” Amy set down the cup. She swallowed. “Can we try?”

Sonic steadied himself with a deep breath. It felt wrong to continue dodging the matter. He met her pleading face with a poignant seriousness he didn’t often display.

“Amy, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said plainly.

Expecting some hesitancy on his part, she pushed on. “Aw, but we’d be so good together! You even said we make such a great team!”

“We do, but-”

“And we’ve known each other for so long! Think of all that history! We’ve always been there for each other and stayed friends even when I was, well, a little obsessed- But you stuck around and that meant so much to me! And-”

“Stop.” Sonic clanked his glass on the table between them. “All this romantic stuff putting everything at stake- I can’t do it, Amy. Much less with you.”

The response left her taken aback, even more than she could have predicted. “So… it’s a problem because it’s me?”

“Sort-of- I-”

She sat upright, loudly clanking her teacup on the table. “And it’s not just because you don’t like me?” Amy’s eyes began to sting as tears threatened to well up.

Sensing an outburst, Sonic leaned away nervously. Being on the receiving end of Amy’s anger was never an enviable position to be in. “Uh…”

“Well? What’s so wrong with dating me? Are you still mad about how immature I was back when we met or something?”

“No! Listen, Amy, I don’t like you that way,” he searched for the right words, frantically and unsuccessfully. “And even if I did, I just don’t think I could ever be in that kind of relationship with you. You’re-”

“I’m what?” Angry tears escaped the moment she stood up abruptly. Her chair screeched against the floor loudly, attracting the attention of the diners around them. “I’m not good enough for you somehow?”

“Amy, that’s not fair,” he scolded. “You know that’s not what I was about to say!”

“What’s not fair is that you always reject me and never tell me why.” She threw her napkin against the table to free her hands, digging through her pocket aggressively. “But I get it now.”

“Amy, come on, please-” Sonic lowered his head in embarrassment as whispers circulated around them. He lowered his voice.

“Please what? Please stop being so loud and obnoxious? Stop being a pest? Stop,” a sob gave her pause, anger melting into heartbreak. “Stop being an annoying little rascal around you?”

The other patrons were staring daggers at them. Sonic melted further into his seat. “This is why I didn’t want to go out,” he muttered. “I was trying to avoid this-”

“Seriously? Ugh!” Amy scoffed, indignant and deeply frustrated. In that moment, that embarrassingly public moment, the only sensible explanation for his rejection were the parts she hated about herself. Her angry outbursts, the insufferable clinginess. Tears continued their path down her cheeks as she dug through her pockets again. Finding the bills she was after, Amy tossed a fistfull onto the table.

The back of her gloves became smudged with makeup as Amy fiercely wiped at her eyes and cheeks. At least she could manage not to sob her way out. At least she wouldn’t add pathetic to the list of her flaws. “I’m leaving!”

“Amy, wait!” Sonic shot up from his seat. “I didn’t mean that-”

“Don’t follow me!”she cried, asserting herself past the hostess and front door. She felt everyone’s eyes on her back, right until the door shut loudly behind her.

Once she was out of sight, all those eyes briefly turned back to Sonic. The other guests began muttering to each other or turning away with secondhand embarrassment.

More than the outburst itself, Sonic immediately felt self-conscious about his response to Amy’s distress, letting all those nosy strangers get in the way.

He sighed at the crumpled notes on the table, letting the public shame wash over him. Amid the wadded bills, he spotted a familiar symbol adorning the back of a creased card. Recognizing it as part of Amy’s deck, Sonic picked it from clutter.

Flipping it on its face, he grimaced at the irony.

“The fool, huh? Man…”

In the square, Amy stomped through walkways and around pedestrians. Her cloudy sights were set on the nearby bus stop. The last thing she wanted to do was sob on public transportation, but what choice did she have?

She planted her hunched form on the bus stop’s only bench. A man in a pressed suit stood nearby and ogled for a few moments, turning and stepping away only after being met by a snapping, fiery glare from the sad-looking girl.

“That’s what I thought,” she grumbled, bowing her head back down onto her palms.

For however much she tried, there was no holding back the floodgates. She sat breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. But her eyes spilled over with tears, leaking between her fingers and onto her lap. Her face was red hot. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked.

Just as she’d resolved to breathe through her woes until she got home, Amy caught a familiar whirring growing closer overhead.

Amy sat up, quickly wiping at her face with the back of her hand. Sitting on her hands to hide her dirty gloves, she spotted him.

“Metal,” she sniffled, “what are you doing in town?”

Metal floated toward the bench, touching down just next to her.

She spun away from him, trying desperately to tidy herself up. She was hardly excited to explain her current state.

Sensing something was off, Metal leaned in for a closer look at her.

“Um… a- a-choo!” Amy forced a sneeze. “Sorry, I have some allergies,” she lied. “All the pollen this time of year…”

That was strange to Metal, being that Amy always seemed to have her nose in some kind of spring bouquet. He was about to press further when she sneezed again.

“I don’t have any tissues with me,” Amy blubbered. “It’s sorta embarrassing…” That much was true.

Rather than question it, Metal scanned their surroundings for a solution. He spotted the man who’d been staring at Amy moments earlier once again gawking, this time at both of them. Metal hardly noticed the man’s gaze, however, more preoccupied with the neatly folded pocket square adorning the front of his jacket. He started toward the man.

Realizing the danger, the guy backed away, holding up his palms in surrender. He grinned awkwardly at the menacing robot approaching him to cut the tension.

It didn’t stop Metal. He pointed at the man’s chest, indicating the blazer’s front pocket. He then held up his palm in command.

The man looked around frantically for the possibility that he could be approaching someone else, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Not understanding Metal’s intentions, the man rustled through his pockets in a panic.

As Metal closed in on him, the man whipped out his wallet, shakily holding it out and turning his face away from the frightening sight.

Believing himself to be in the middle of a mugging, the man finally pleaded meekly, something about taking the wallet. Metal ignored him and his outstretched hand and instead reached forward towards the cowering man’s chest. The man shut his eyes.

Metal snatched the pocket square out of the man’s jacket pocket and promptly forgot about his existence as he rotated back around to Amy.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding the crisply folded handkerchief in front of her. She raised a brow, confused at the gesture.

She turned to him. “Where did you get that?”

As Amy took hold of the pocket square, she caught sight of the man cowering nearby. She gasped in realization.

“Is this his?!”

The man’s eyes snapped open, only just understanding what had occurred. He patted at his chest, realizing he’d been robbed of a mere square of fabric.

“Sir!”

Amy shot up, intending to return the stolen accessory, but the man quickly turned and ran off with a squeal as he noticed he was being approached once again.

“Sir! Oh, come on…”

Amy turned her attention back to her friend, shocked at what had just occurred.

“Metal! You can’t just take some random creep’s handkerchief!”

Metal stared at her blankly. He analyzed her flushed cheeks and watery eyes, ignoring her protests. Her gloves were stained front and back with makeup. Was she just crying?

Perturbed, Amy turned away, one again feigning a sneeze. She brought the handkerchief up to her face out of habit. “Well, I guess he’s not gonna be coming back, so…”

Unhappy with the circumstances, Amy wiped away her tears in resignation. The whole scene at least distracted her from her woes- and it was better than blubbering into her damp gloves. She folded the square away into her pocket and looked to Metal.

“Thanks for the tissue, but please promise you won’t go around snatching people’s things,” she managed calmly,

Metal continued to study her expression. He concluded that she was decidedly composed and he could’ve been mistaken about her emotional state. But now there were these supposed allergies to worry about-

“Metal? Hello?” Amy waved a hand in front of him, vexed by the lack of response. “Are you listening?”

He nodded instinctively. It wasn’t what he was focused on.

“Anyway,” Amy sighed. “Did you have an errand or something?”

Metal shook his head and gestured to her with an open palm, clad in his new gloves.

The gesture confused her for a moment, but quickly understood what he had to say. “Oh… did you come just to get me?”

He nodded.

Amy tilted her head with some uncertainty. “How did you know I was here…?”

There was no simple way to explain it to her. He didn’t understand it himself, in fact. Just a few minutes prior, he felt an urgent need to come to this precise spot to find her. It was as if he’d received a signal with a command. So, he rushed over, flying faster than he had for as long as he could recall. It felt almost out of his control, his body propelling him to meet her here. An unexplainable urge. A hunch, he’d heard such a feeling called.

Not knowing any other way to answer, he performed his characteristic shrug and reached closer toward her with his still outstretched hand.

Amy couldn’t help but giggle. His cryptic and limited responses were charming, in a way.

“Well, thanks for picking me up.” She took his hand. It beated taking the bus.

They took off in what was becoming a typical way for Amy and Metal to travel together. It was even more comfortable now that his pointy claws were under wraps. It felt like floating to Amy, who didn’t even have time to recall her sorrow; they arrived at her front door in no time.

“By the way, Metal, I wanna talk to you about today,” she said as he allowed her down. She reached for her front door, continuing. “I gotta call Tails, too. We should all chat about-”

The door eased open. Amy couldn’t believe her eyes.

There must not have been a mug, tumbler, or bowl that wasn’t filled with spring blooms. Lilies sprouted out of drinking glasses and a bushel of peonies practically spilled out of her biggest sauce pot. The bushiest of hyacinth stems poked out of the top of an empty wine bottle. Mason jars sat on every inch of her counter filled with daisies, daffodils, and primroses. Every counter, every chair- every conceivable surface of her home was littered with flowers. Unprecedented and breathtaking.

She stood at the door, speechless. Amy forgot all about the conversation she was about to propose, along with her rejection, the stressful mission, and her “allergies.”

Metal stood back, observing; apprehensive. She’d just had a reaction, and here was every type of flower he could find within a 100-mile radius diffusing pollen into her home. He reached out, intending to hold her back.

But it didn’t stop her. Amy practically sprinted toward the living space, rustling through every vessel, burying her face in as many bunches as she could get her hands on. She gasped and sputtered as she went.

Radiating joy, she looked back to Metal. “You got all these? For me?”

Metal nodded at her tensely from the doorway.

Amy erupted with laughter. “It’s amazing!”

Though muddled by it, her positive response put Metal at ease as he followed her inside.

“Thank you!” She twirled around, taking stock of all the bouquets. “Where did you find so many? Look at these peonies, and those hyacinths, and the daffodils, and- and-”

Her eyes landed on the small bunch of assorted wildflowers she’d received from Sonic that morning.

“-and…”

She trailed off, stroking a little blue cornflower from the motley assortment. They sat next to her one other proper vase, stuffed neatly with pink tulips.

Bittersweet tears flooded her eyes. A conflicted sob escaped her as they flowed down into her smile.

Amy’s emotions had overwhelmed her by the time Metal reached her across the room. He took a cautious step back when he realized her cheeks were already soaked.

For however conflicted she felt about the day’s events, Amy was overjoyed at the thoughtful gesture. There was nothing to do but throw her arms around Metal with all the affection she possessed.

Not anticipating tears, Metal hesitated for a moment. But she clutched and squeezed him with an intensity which he thought could practically crush him. He was as impressed with her strength as he was concerned for her.

Metal wrapped an arm around her slowly. Carefully, he reached a finger to her cheek, catching a tear as it spilled from her eye.

She sniffled, breathing deeply. “Oh, me? Don’t worry,” Amy turned her damp eyes up to him, still beaming. She laughed. “It’s just allergies!”

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

Me in may: hehe I will have so much time to myself this summer i will be able to write sooo much

Me in june: (takes the hardest class I've ever done in my entire life)

Me in july: (builds an entire kitchen)

Me in aug: (gets married)

Me in sep: (picks up twice as many responsibilities at work because the assistant quit)

but hey I got married and we later went to LA to see Sonic Symphony! So it's been a good summer/autumn so far. Other than you know. working 6 days a week. eugh

#btw i love this art so much i think its my fav so far!!! i adore my wife so much its unreal #pls reblog!#amy rose #metal sonic #metamy #sth #sth fanfic #ch 16 #unfamiliar

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deerlottie · 7 days

Note

Natalie fails a class and almost getting kicked off the soccer team but the reader is a nerd and becomes her tutor which leads to nat falling in love with her

I am a sucker for clichè bad girl x goody two shoes I'm sorry 😭

summary: lottie recommends that nat go to a mutual friend instead of some random student for a tutor and she finds it hard to focus when you're so damn distracting. warnings: fluff, fem!reader, first time using y/n kinda nervous...not proofread

"hey, i've got this friend who can help you out with studying."

lottie sits down next to nat on the bench, looking at her with determination. she's starting to rub off on nat's depressing mood ever since she almost got kicked off the team for failing her history class and she's had it up to here.

"you know y/n, right? well, she's like, super smart and you'd be back on the field in no time after a couple of sessions with her. let me give you her number!"

nat grumbles and rolls her eyes - she knows you, you're the goody two shoes of the school, always on top of your grades and even got a special award for never missing a day of class since the start of freshman year. she won't lie, she was hoping to ask one of kevyn's friends so they could just smoke and pretend to study, but she needs to get her shit together, and having some nerd tutor her could probably bore her into studying.

she reluctantly takes the piece of paper lottie gives her and shoves it into her soccer bag, mumbling a faint thanks as she walks away towards the locker room. she bangs her head against the metal and sighs, taking out her phone and staring at her duffle bag.

goddamn it, she thinks.

nat enters your number in her contacts and her fingers float over the keyboard, rolling her eyes as she sends a quick message.

nat: lottie said you could help me with tutoring. meet me at billy's cafe after class.

quickly shoving her phone back in her pocket, she starts changing out of her soccer clothes, her heart jumping in her chest at the sound of her notification chiming.

you: got it. you're paying though.

she can't help the small scoff that floats out of her, smiling as she shakes her head and finishes getting dressed.

"it's really not that hard, nat."

she has her head in her hands as you explain the brief history of the 1700s, her least favorite years if she's being honest. you've only been tutoring her for two weeks and she feels like her head is gonna burst at any moment if you mention another war.

she takes a subtle peek at you through her fingers, her eyes stuck on how your lips move as you speak. you scoot your chair closer to her as you point out something on the textbook, your arm that touches her makes her breath hitch and lick her lips.

"you okay? we can take a quick break if you need it." you smile at her. "i know we've been studying for a while."

nat nods, quickly getting up and rushing to the kitchen to grab some juice. she sighs as she leans up against a counter, scoffing at herself. of course, she just had to go and develop a crush on you. the first time she saw you at passing at one of lottie's parties she knew she was down bad, but she didn't really see you again after that so she forgot about it.

until she met up with you at the cafe.

it was like all her past feelings hit her at once, and she nearly ditched meeting up with you once she saw you sitting at one of the tables. it took her 5 minutes to work up the courage to even go up to you and she felt like a fool for how she could barely talk to you without blushing.

it's not really the history that's boring her, and to be honest, you've made it tolerable. she's loved learning new facts that you go on tangents about while getting excited about the new chapter she's supposed to read. you've even taught her how to study more efficiently and she goes crazy at how you praise her for doing well on mock tests.

but recently, she's been lacking. she realized that this has turned into more than a crush. she doesn't know what exactly, but she knows that it's affecting her ability to work with you, and she needs to pass this damn class. she slams her glass down on the counter so hard that it splashes her and she groans in irritation, grabbing a towel and wiping the juice off while mumbling to herself.

"you good in there?" you poke your head through the door, looking sheepish as you notice her annoyed expression.

"yeah, i'm fine. let's get back to studying." she rushes past you, intent on ending this session as soon as possible.

"you know, i'm surprised she can't feel how hard you're staring at her."

"i'm not staring at her." nat glares at lottie, crossing her arms as she takes a quick glance at you. again. "she just happens to be in the way of where i'm looking."

lottie snorts and looks at nat, looks at how she can't seem to tear her eyes off of you and how her neck is blossoming red and how she picks at the ends of her shirt in an attempt to distract herself.

"just ask her out already. i have it on good authority that she likes you back, but you didn't hear it from me." lottie giggles, nudging her.

nat's heart soars at her words and she looks at you longingly. there's no way she could confess. she feels like she's gonna throw up whenever you smile at her, how in the world can she possibly get the words "i like you." out?

she fails to notice the gears turning in lottie's head as she devises a masterplan, trying to wipe the smirk off her as she calls out your name.

"hey, y/n!" she shouts inside the bustling gym, waving at you.

"stop it!" nat's eyes widen as she slaps lottie's hands down, smiling awkwardly as you turn your head towards the two them. "i swear to god i'll kill you." she whisper-yells, wiping sweat off her forehead as you excuse yourself from your friend and walk over.

"hi, lottie. nat." her knees nearly buckle at your tone, and she's not even sure if she's imagining it or not. "did you need something?"

"oh, no, i didn't, but nat wanted to speak to you. see ya!" lottie pats her on the shoulder before rushing off and skipping over to the other side of the gym, pretending to busy herself with the equipment.

you look at her expectantly, raising your eyebrows and patiently waiting for her to speak up.

don't fuck up, don't fuck up, don't fuck up, don't fuck up!

"uh- you smell nice." she blurts out, feeling cold sweat prickle on her back. she flushes even more as you laugh, covering your mouth as you giggle.

"thanks?" you respond, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "but is that all lottie called me over for?"

"a-are we still on for a study session after school?" nat internally groans at herself for fucking up her chance, scratching the side of her neck in embarrassment. she's for sure kicking lottie's ass after gym.

"oh," your shoulders slump in disappointment, but you quickly change your demeaner into back into something happier as you give her a small smile. "for sure. totally..."

she gives you a confused look at your tone, eyes glancing to your downturned lips and your defeated figure.

"did i say something wrong?"

"no, no. it's just-" you sigh, shifting on your feet. you look around the gym, catching lottie's gaze before she swifty turns back around pretends she's not eavesdropping. "i thought you were about to ask me out."

"what."

"lottie set it all up. she told me that you liked me weeks ago and i've been waiting for you to confess but apparently, you're too much of a scaredy-cat." you tease, smirking at how her face falls.

she splutters, trying to come up with a retort but all she can manage is to stomp her foot and roll her eyes. she catches lottie's dark locks out of the corner of her eyes and scowls - of course, lottie set this whole thing up.

"well?" you cross your arms, looking her up and down. "are you?"

"absolutely not." she scoffs, getting nervous all over again as she looks you in the eyes. "do you maybe wanna get something to eat tomorrow night...?" she holds her breath as she awaits your response, wringing her hands together.

you can't help the bashful smile that breaks out, and you jump up happily before planting a small kiss on her cheek. nat gasps, feeling her face get hot to the touch as she brings a hand up to the mark.

"pick me up at 7:00." you whisper in her ear, slowly backing away before hopping over to lottie and gossiping about what just happened.

maybe she won't have to kick lottie's ass after all.

#.myworks #natalie scatorccio thoughts 💭#natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #lord please let the layout be clean

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

A special sort of craving 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: A stranger appears at your cafe and leaves you unsettled.

Part of the Backwood AU

Note: I found this in my docs and then I was like this could be an AU and people will hate me but here we are. I am heavily considering adding at least one other character to the AU bc I have an idea I don't think i'll ever get to full length with.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

He doesn’t belong. Not in this sleepy village. You can tell by the ring on his pinky, a golden signet that boasts of wealth not known to the farmers and lumberers of the desolate locale. His cheeks are red as if he didn’t expect the crisp autumn bite, though his jacket is unzipped to his chest, revealing a golf shirt with some designer logo sewn into the collar.

He tilts his head as he considers the glass display with shelves of bite-sized tarts and fragrant pies. You approach the other side, standing on tiptoes to see over it. His eyes slowly rise with your movement, a dimple in his cheek of amusement. You skirt around to the side of the display and lean over the lower counter so he can see you.

“Hello, you looking for something in particular?” you ask.

“Something sweet,” he answers, his crooked grin lingers as he lets his gaze wander back to the pies, “cherry… it’s been a while since I had a nice, juicy cherry pie.”

He licks his lips with the last word, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his bristly mustache. Your smile threatens to falter but you keep it on. He definitely isn’t from around here. Not with his accent or the hair slicked back so neatly.

“You want a slice?” you ask brightly. “Two bucks for a slice, twelve for the whole thing.”

“Hmm?” he raises a brow and sidles over to stand across from you.

“The pie,” you say as he puts a hand on the counter, leaning in as his other rests on his hip, “did you want some?”

His eyes fall down to the top of your apron, the red and white checker distracting him as you mindlessly flick the frill around the skirt. His smirk blooms fully and he stands straight.

“Wouldn’t mind a slice… of the pie,” he says as if it’s some joke. You don’t get it.

“Sure,” you say as you go behind the display and take out the cherry pie. You take it to the metal table behind you as you hear him, sense him looming along the counter. “You want anything to drink, sir? Some milk? Tea? Coffee? We do a combo for three-fifty.”

“Mm-mm-mm, a nice glass of milk would go nice with the pie,” he purrs, “they usually got you working all alone, sweetness?”

You look over your shoulder as you shovel a slice onto a plate, little flowers painted around the waffled trim.

“It’s my shop,” you say as you take the dish and grab a fork from the tray. You place it beside the till and type in the total, “cash or card, sir?”

“You own all this?” he leans his elbows on the counter, bent at the waist as he looks up at you.

“Sir,” you nod.

“Card,” he stands and stretches his arms over him before he drops his hands, poking his fingers in his back pocket.

“I’ll get that milk,” you say as he swipes his card, “and I’ll bring this over to you if you wanna sit.”

“Ah, table service, I like it,” he says as the machine chirps and accepts his payment, “you country folk are all so… nice, aren’t you?”

“Suppose,” you say as you open the fridge and take out a small carton.

You glance over as he tucks away his wallet. He winks and walks away. He drapes his jacket over the chair by the window as you grab a glass and hurry over to the counter. You place the glass and carton on his table as he sits. You go back to the counter and bring him the pie.

“You visiting someone?” you ask curiously.

He looks at you pointedly. You hesitate. You forget that the city slickers don’t like questions, but everyone in the village knows each other, so your habit has you careless.

“Bought some house called ‘The Grove’,” he answers as he pushes the fork through the braided crust, “apparently it’s a big deal.”

“The Grove?” you can’t help your surprise, “wow.”

He scoffs, hardly amused, and slides the fork into his mouth, sucking off the pie as he watches you. He chews and swallows slowly as he hovers the silver over the oozing pie.

“You know it?”

“It’s pretty far out,” you say, “but yeah, everyone knows The Grove.”

“Sure,” he pokes a cherry so the juice leaks out, “this is good pie. You make all these?”

“It’s my recipe, but I think Melinda did that one.”

“Don’t get good home cooking like this in the city,” he plops the cherry in his mouth and his jaw tenses with the tartness, he hums in satisfaction. He looks you up and down once more, “don’t get that personal touch.”

“I’m glad you like it, I’ll let Melinda know,” you push your hands into the large pockets of your apron, a movement that further catches his attention.

“Sounds good, cupcake,” he opens the carton and pours the milk into the glass, “you do delivery?”

“Sundays,” you answer, “not that we get many requests but…”

“Personal deliveries,” he insists, “like you said, house is far away, and I’m new in town. Wouldn’t mind a familiar face and a nice pie.”

You rub your neck, “well I don’t usually do the deliveries.”

“Melinda?” he prompts.

“No, Terry takes them with the lumber.”

“Mm,” he frowns, “right… guess I’ll just make the trip in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “let me know if ya need anything else.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he slithers as you slowly turn away.

You feel him watching you as you try to hide behind the counter. You take a cloth and the cleaner and start wiping down the back of the display. You hear the clink of his fork against the plate.

City people are always a bit odd, but he gives you a bad feeling.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #the gray man #a special sort of craving

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buckys-little-belle · 6 months

Text

Chapter One - The Blue Crayon

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

Warnings - Reader cries, first meeting jitters, brief talks of Bucky’s ‘old life’, mainly fluff

Word Count - 1,836

Note - Releasing this is really scary, and nerve wracking. I'm worried people will hate my new writing style, or won't enjoy the slight changes to the plot/pace/overall creation. Please know that this means a lot to me, and has really given me back a piece of me I thought I lost. Enjoy, and I hope you love this as much as I do <3

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

★ Prologue ★

After years of feeling out of place no matter where he went, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter what he did to fit in, Bucky took a trip to a Cafe he remembered from his old days in Brooklyn.

The interior looked the same as it had decades ago, the soft blue and green diner furniture was in pristine shape. The metal of the counter looked slightly more scratched and worn, but the whole place had the same feel it did when he first walked in years ago.

While most cafes offered the same types of coffee and treats, none of them were anything like Cafe BigNSmall. Instead of being on a busy street open to just anyone, it was hidden away from prying eyes on a calm street, and was catered towards Littles and Caregivers.

It was founded before Bucky was even born, a group of people looking for a place to meet up comfortably, but also create a safe space for other Littles and Caregivers that might also be in need of a community.

Bucky had stumbled his way into a conversation years ago about Littles and Caregivers, at first he didn’t understand what the conversation was about, but after asking a few questions and being given the address to the hardly known, yet also famous, cafe his whole idea around the topic changed. And after a few visits with his best friend by his side the two of them realised that the community they had accidentally found was one they fit perfectly into.

Bucky half expected the well hidden cafe to be gone, or at least moved to a different location after all these years, but as he walked along the familiar sidewalk and stopped in front of the building he used to visit weekly, a warm feeling spread along his chest. The feeling of finally finding someplace he knew, and some place that knew him, was the best feeling he had felt in a while.

Even the ding of the welcome bell was the same, the coffee just as good as he remembered it, and the crunch of the leather covered diner booth sounded just as he had remembered it.

The feeling of sitting at a table alone though was new, his days spent here were always spent with Steve and other people they had met along the way. But now he sat in his favourite booth with a bag full of activities, and a heart in need of a purpose. He realised that even though the building had stayed the same, he hadn’t.

Weeks went by as he watched groups of Littles and Caregivers sit around tables and talk, colour, and laugh. He understood why people avoided him, if they knew who he was they had reason to walk away, and even if they didn’t know him as ‘The Winter Soldier” he was still dressed head to toe in black, stood at times a foot above everyone else, and always had an easily read as angry expression plastered on his face.

It had been a month before anyone talked to him, and although he wished that he could have felt included sooner, he was happy that Y/n was the first person he met, even if it took weeks of waiting.

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

The sun was shining brightly through the wall of windows, Bucky’s booth drowning in light, the small plant that sat with a basket full of sugar and cream was no doubt enjoying the nice weather.

Bucky’s coat sat next to him, his phone buzzing from time to time though he ignored it. Instead of calling Steve back, or making sure Sam didn’t need something he surveyed the room, making sure all exits were secure, and danger wasn’t present.

He, in a way, had given up the idea that he would meet a Little, or even a friend, but decided that in the absence of someone he would spend his time as - unwanted, and unneeded, as well as unofficial - security for those who spent their days here with friends.

As his eyes drifted to make sure his car parked on a side street was still in tack he heard a small shuffle next to him, then a small voice spoke. “Um, Mr?” He turned his head to see a girl with tear marks down her face staring at him. Her green shirt’s sleeves covered in wiped tears, her overalls slightly off her one shoulder.

Bucky just stared at her for a second, waiting for her to fizzle away and reveal herself as a dream, or run in fear when she saw his face, but she didn’t. “Hi.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a neutral tone and facial expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked, shuffling in his seat slightly, his nerves evident.

“My, um.” Her left hand covered in her sleeve came back up to her face, rubbing her eye before she continued. “My crayon broke.” The girls lower lip wobbled now, bringing up what must have happened clearly causing her distress. “The nice cash lady said you, you migh’ have some crayons?” Her voiced lowered to a whisper now.

Bucky smiled, the warmth he felt when he first stepped inside a month ago finally coming back. His backpack was filled with Little friendly activities and supplies for this reason exactly. “I do.” He answered, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his carton of 96 crayons. “What colour do you need, Bub?” The nickname slipped out on accident, but the girl in front of him didn’t seem to notice, too awe struck by the box of crayons in front of him.

She sniffled before answering. “I need blue.” She said with a little more confidence. “Hold on.” She whispered, jogging back to what Bucky assumed was her table. “This one, please.” She pulled out two halves of a blue crayon from her box. Her crayon box was smaller than Bucky’s, only a handful of crayons inside, unlike his though her’s had a small sticker on it that read “Y/n.”

“Y/n?” He asked, the girl snapping her head to him, her eyes wide. Bucky tapped the sticker on her box, Y/n flipping it over and realising how he now knew her name. “There’s too many blue crayons in this box to know what one you want.” He said, hoping it didn’t come off mean or like he was showing off his ‘better’ supplies. “Why don’t you take the box back to your table and use any of the crayons I have for the day.” He offers, hoping that his generosity could help earn Y/n’s trust over time.

“Can I jus’ sit here?” Y/n asked, her hands fiddling with the box in her hands.

“You want to sit here?” Bucky parrots her words back to her, hardly believing that she would want to sit with him.

“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Her lower lip began to wobble again as she took a step back. “Unless, I’m sorry, I can go.” She said quickly, clearly taking Bucky’s surprise as anger.

“You can sit here.” Bucky’s words were also spoken quickly, worried if he didn’t say anything right away she would run from him. “No one’s wanted to sit with me yet, I’m just surprised.” Y/n nodded her head and put her small box down on the table before walking back to hers.

In a minute she had gathered all her things and made her way back to Bucky, her backpack now sitting on the other seat. “You sure that I can sit here?” Bucky noticed her slight change in speech, a clear sign of further regression.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, Y/n sitting down but still holding her colouring book to her chest, her back straight as a pin. “I’m glad you came over.” He says in hopes to reassure her he wants her here. “It’s nice to have a friend.” Y/n smiles at that, placing her book down, showing a half done colouring page.

“I agree, bein’ lonely is sad.” She frowns. “Do you wanna colour with me?” Her tone is hopeful, looking at Bucky with a smile.

“I’d love to.” He smiled back, pushing his coffee to the side and accepting the page Y/n tore out for him. The two of them colouring their respective pages in silence for an hour before Y/n sat up straight with the biggest smile Bucky had seen so far.

“Done!” She practically yelled. Bucky had been done for a while now, adding his own doodles around the actual lines of the drawing. “Look.” She slides the book towards him, a coloured picture of a princess and her wildlife friends surrounding her staring back up at him.

“This is really good, Bub.” Bucky coos, surprised at her ability to stay mainly in the lines of the original lines.

“You can keep it.” She quickly squiggles something on the bottom, Bucky assuming it’s her form of a signature.

“Thank y-” His words are cut off by the shrill of an alarm, Y/n digging her phone out of her backpack to turn it off, frowning as she places the phone on the table.

“I have to go home now.” She frowns as she starts to pack up her bag, pausing to turn to Bucky. “Will you, can you.” She stumbles over her words. “Are you coming here tomorrow?” She eventually asks, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s.

“Are you?” He counter asks.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow.” She smiles and finally looks at him.

Y/n spends a few more minutes packing up her things before she stands. “Thank you Mr.” She holds her hand out for a handshake, Bucky’s back straightening as he realises he’ll have to shake her hand with his left. Instead of doing so he grabs her left hand with his right and shakes that one, her giggles worth the awkward situation. “Bye Mr.” She says, turning to leave, but Bucky keeps a hold of her hand.

“Why don’t you keep these?” He says, pushing the box of crayons closer to her near the edge of the table.

“Borrow them?” She asks.

“No, I want you to keep them.” He nudges them her way a little more. “I think you’ll get much more use out of them than I ever would.” He smiles as he watches her’s grow bigger. Picking them up she does a little jump, her backpack jingling as she does.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She spins before whispering a ‘thank you’.

Before Bucky could say goodbye, or ask for her phone number, she had already walked out of the building, walking down the sidewalk looking at the box of crayons in awe. The broken blue crayon still sat on the table, he smiled, picking it up and placing it in his pocket. The small thing a reminder of the best day he’s had in a long time.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #age regression #little!reader #bucky #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes age regression #bucky barnes x little!reader #little fic

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xuchiya · 2 months

Text

baker's secret ingerdient {k.yeosang}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The rhythmic thwack of Yeosang's whisk against the metal bowl was a familiar soundtrack to his mornings at Cafe Love. Flour dusted his apron like a badge of honour, a testament to the countless pastries he'd brought to life within these walls. But lately, the melody of his baking had a discordant note – the growing number of disappointed sighs as customers learned his signature croissants were sold out yet again.

Seonghwa, the manager along with the food decor, were concerned about the head baker and the pressure. Seonghwa approached the flour covered man, “Yeo …”

“I don’t need help hyung …” Seonghwa feels bad that Yeosang can’t express his burden yet he understood from the dark circles underneath his eyes, the hunch of pressure on his shoulders. Seonghwa glanced at the lady at the corner, looking at them with a frosting on her cheeks.

Seonghwa sighs, “I’ll look for a way.”

Yeosang prided himself on his creations, each croissant a delicate masterpiece – flaky, golden, and bursting with buttery goodness. But the demand had become overwhelming, for days that turned into weeks that it became too much for him that he finally broke down with Seonghwa about his pressure and in need of help.

He needed an assistant, someone who could share the burden and the joy of baking.

The double door of the kitchen chimed, announcing a new arrival. Yeosang glanced up, expecting Seonghwa with another piece of bad news. Instead, a young woman with eyes as bright as blueberries stood hesitantly by the counter. Her hair, the color of melted chocolate, was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face.

"Can I help you?" Yeosang asked, his voice cold despite the flour dusting his nose that makes him soft and warm.

The woman stammered, "I, uh, saw the sign about the baker assistant position. Your manager told me to head here since today will be a little more crowded than usual, and don’t worry, I love to bake!"

Intrigued, Yeosang wiped his hands on his apron, approaching the woman with left eyebrow raised, "Love to bake, huh? Let's see what you've got then." He led her to another table, just across his, a haven of flour sacks and the intoxicating aroma of sugar and butter. Your eyes widened as you took it all in.

"This place is amazing!" You exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. Yeosang gave her a neutral look. "Tell me that, when you can handle 24 pieces of croissant, 20 pieces of brioche and 10 blueberry muffins."

You grinned, placing your shoulder bag down, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows; tying the complicated apron around you, "Challenge accepted."

The following hour was a flurry of activity. Flour flew, butter creamed, and the air filled with the comforting scent of baking. Yeosang watched intently as you handled the dough with surprising dexterity. Your movements were quick and confident, belying her initial nervousness yet there was something itching on Yeosang as he watched you knead the dough.

“You’re hurting your wrist if you keep doing that.” Yeosang shakes his head, approaching the woman. You move to the side to watch him knead the dough easily before removing to the side again to recreate his actions but Yeosang sighs in disappointment making you look down; you were so confident about the things you've been doing and the moment you heard that made your confidence deflate but you have to keep up with the professionalism and continue kneading the dough.

You heard Yeosang sigh once again before you felt presence on your back and a soft grip on the back of your hands as it led you to kneading on his pace. You felt his breath fanning your nape, “This is how I do it so I wouldn’t hurt my wrist.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch, paralyzed, with the close proximity of your warmth against your head baker. Your heart wasn’t also helping with the situation.

“... understood?” Your eyes widen, looking to your left; having an intense eye contact with Yeosang. Both of your hands halted, just resting each on top of each other. Yeosang had admitted the moment he was kneading the dough with you, your sweet perfume lingering in his nose and your face that was covered in flour.

You both pulled away, looking away from each other as the redness so evident on your faces. Yeosang cleared his throat, clearing the awkwardness, “Continue doing your job.”

They worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the rhythmic kneading and the satisfied sighs escaping the oven as a new batch emerged. Finally, Yeosang pulled out a golden brown croissant, its layers impossibly thin and perfectly risen. He held it up for inspection.

You look closely at the croissant, “How is it?” You look at him– at the same time– Yeosang glance at you. Once again, you find yourself in your own world as his eyes trails on your eyes, down to your nose then to your cherry lips then back to your eyes.

You were doing no better as you took notice of his birthmark on his left eye, his lashes resting so perfectly that it made his eyes big and sparkly that you wouldn’t get tired looking at them.

“If you both are gonna kiss, please do it after the rush hour.” You and Yeosang pullaway to see Wooyoung leaning on the door with his arms crossed and playful smirk on his lips. Yeosang nodded, a hint of red on his cheeks, “Yes, of course.”

The day ended with a success, your smile was brighter than the fresh pastry, turning to your head baker, "We did it!"

Yeosang couldn't help but return the smile. He'd found his assistant, someone who not only shared his passion but also possessed a talent that rivaled his own.

The afternoon rush was a whirlwind. Customers who'd previously left disappointed walked away with bags filled with warm, flaky croissants, their faces beaming with satisfaction. The pressure lifted from Yeosang's shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie as he and you worked side-by-side, a well-oiled baking machine.

By the time the cafe closed, exhaustion mingled with a deep sense of accomplishment. Leaning against the counter, Yeosang looked at you, another set of flour dusting your cheeks like a baker's badge of honor.

"Welcome to Cafe Love," he said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. You grinned back. "Thanks for having me. This is going to be fun."

As they cleaned up, they talked about baking dreams and favorite pastries, their laughter echoing through the quiet cafe. You were wiping your table when you realised how this customer always comes back ordering his pastry with so much adoration.

You spun on your heel, “Uh Yeosang?” Yeosang was busy placing back his utensils but still managed to acknowledge you, “Yes?”

You twist the towel as a sign of nervousness, “Every baker in town has its secret ingredient … Do you happen to have one?” Yeosang pauses, silently placing the last utensil inside the drawer before closing it. He looks up, wiping the cloth on his fingers as he approaches you with big strides.

Your breath hitch as you watch Yeosang lean on your ears, “It’s something you wouldn't believe even if I told you." He stops just short of your ear, his voice a low murmur sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the warmth of his breath tickle your neck."But maybe, I can show you sometime."

You were slightly confused until Wooyoung came barging into the kitchen with his enthusiastic smile, “Hey love birds! Seonghwa wants to have a drink for another successful week for us, so if you guys are finished come outside.” You nodded, placing the rag inside your apron, “Of course, thank you Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung winks at you, “Anything for you, darling and anything for this Cafe Love.” You did not question his last statement as you helped Yeosang on the cups before Wooyoung returned back inside again, just sticking his head, “Ahh .. you guys can kiss now.”

“Wooyoung!” Both you and Yeosang exclaimed, making Wooyoung cackle loudly before exiting the kitchen, “Oi~ Benvolio, take this chance man.” Yeosang chuckles at Wooyoung, hushing him.

“Benvolio? From Romeo and Juliet?” You question, Yeosang nodded, “He named me after Romeo’s cousin, for no reason.”

You pouted, thinking about the tragic love story, “From what I remember, Benvolio is like someone who tried to mediate the conflict between the families, and he was also the reason Romeo and Juliet got together. He's the nicest character that I have observe, he deserves someone to be love, you know.”

Yeosang looks at you, intrigued. He does not know much about the tale but it somehow matches what he did to Wooyoung and to his lover though, Yeosang helps Wooyoung to do the first move in talking; he and Wooyoung aren’t close as being blood related hence cousins.

But Yeosang didn’t mind much of it and continued doing his work. Yeosang knew then that Cafe Love wasn't just about the delicious treats; it was about the connections forged over shared passions and the joy of creation. And with you by his side, the symphony of baking at Cafe Love was about to get even more beautiful.

Yeosang glance at the old worn out book, it was closed but he knew inside those were the secret ingredients of creating a pastry full of love. It was a book given by Wooyoung’s significant other, Wooyoung’s long lost Juliet.

Yeosang had seen how his best friend fell in love and experienced love. So he made an oath that not every single soul will experience love not only through emotions but through food.

Yeosang smiles, looking over at you, his smile brightens and extends, “Benvolio is indeed a nice person to deserve himself a beautiful lover in this life.”

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