Lucifer Morningstar x gn!reader
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 1.5k | making out, spicy but not smutty, jokes, foolish teasing, slight mention of blood and injuries, dramatic Lucifer
This idea wasn't mine; I saw it in a @iamnearlyagod 's post and thought I'd give it a try… so I hope you liked it and that it met your expectations! :)
Lucifer was devastated when he discovered it. Or so you told yourself, because with how dramatic he was, you assured that it was just an exaggeration, trying not to laugh. He had even flown to a corner of the room! You swore he had started to cry.
You two had organized a movie night after a heavy week, which meant that the poor king would finally have a day of peace and rest with his beloved spouse. Hugs, snacks, cuddles, and kisses everywhere! The first half of the movie was adorable, both of you laughed like schoolboys while cuddling against each other, Lucifer's wings spread around you and drew you towards him like a warm, protective hug. But being the busy king of hell also builds up a lot of sexual frustration from stress, right?
Your arms were around his neck, his wings were ruffled, curving around you, yearning for your touch like a bird courting its mate. Your lips collided incessantly, struggling for control between longing and passion, overflowing with love. His hands were on your hips, you had been sitting on his lap for a while, your thighs around his hips, his hands not letting you go anywhere.
His bifid tongue was inside your mouth. Lucifer was not usually dominant—actually, neither of you "dominated" the other when you made love, very different from when you had sex. The simple name said it all. That’s why the pleasure was more passionate, not just lustful; when his hands moved you in circles over his lap, a discreet hint of how he wanted to grind against you, asking for permission but also claiming what was his from the moment the ring fell on your finger.
Your hands went from holding the hair at the nape of his neck to trailing down his back; your fingers caressed his back with devotion until they reached the base of his wings, the simple touch made him shudder under your caress. His lips parted from yours, inhaling breaths of air, trailing kisses from your jaw to your throat and the hollow of your neck. His sharp teeth sank into the junction of your neck and shoulder deeply, hearing the hiss that escaped you made him hum in satisfaction. He didn’t usually do that; he was careful with the marks, he didn’t like to hurt you, only when you asked for it; and that you had done before getting on his lap.
But there was something almost primitive about the new idea of seeing you marked, ravaged, that every part of your body screamed that you were his, and no one else’s. To show off with all Pride if necessary to let them see the beautiful lover he had. He deepened the bite; he wouldn’t be satisfied until he felt the metallic taste of your blood on his palate, but feeling that it was too much, he pulled away just a little.
And then…
“What?” he murmured. For a few moments, he stopped. He really did. His brow furrowed, his pupils almost constricted, and disbelief, surprise, and anger marked his face.
“Luci?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and lowering your gaze to his face. His hands rose to your cheeks to cradle your face, but instead of bringing it closer to his, they held it up. The shadow of your head must not fall where he was looking. “Luci!”
"Just a moment!" he replied, still astonished. He blinked; he blinked several times, you could see the gears guiding in a head, constructing a response. His astonished face melted into a terrified expression.
"W…Where is it?"
"What thing?"
"My bite! I just bit your shoulder and I don't see it, where is it?"
You also blinked. You got off his lap, and he was so astonished and stunned that he didn't even bother to protest as he would have in another case; rather, he focused on not diverting his gaze from your neck. At the junction of your shoulder and neck, where there was supposed to be a deep bite mark (perhaps with some blood), there was barely a pattern of teeth. Not even sharp like his, just… teeth, and barely visible.
He frowned; there was a sudden determination in his gaze, focused with concentration, a plan in mind. His hands went to the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. At another moment, he would have adored you, admired your body, your beauty, every scar, burn, insecurity—whatever it was, he was going to love it. But something was happening to him with how determined he was to test his hypothesis.
His long black nails slid with a scratch to your sides, closer to your lower back than to your waist. His face said it all, how he did not take his eyes off his nails on your skin, waiting to see a hint of skin opening and giving way to small drops of blood. And, for just a few moments, he swore he saw it, really! Only for moments later the wound to close up. He was horrified again.
"Dear" you placed your hands over his, letting out a sigh at how disappointed he looked, totally depressed and hurt. You tightened your grip, your fingers over his knuckles. "Do you want to tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours?"
Silence. The buzzing of the television that has been off since your lips collided, the muted noises from the street, the synchronized breaths. Then─
"I can't hurt sinners! Do you know what that means?" he spat, his voice strangled like an out-of-tune violin, immersed in exasperation and realization. "No bites, no hickeys, no scratches!" His hands went up to cover his face, while he pulled at the poor golden strands that were in his way.
But he looked so disappointed, so devastated─ Aha! There was the word that completely described his state, because it meant he couldn't give the kind of pleasure that his lover liked. What if they liked strangulation? No, it can't be! BDSM, slaps? Neither! It was as if your body didn't even register that you were being hurt, or on the contrary, his body couldn't make wounds.
This… hit him harder than you expected.
It was like this that Lucifer, the king of hell, the fallen angel, ended up sitting on the corner of the bed; he would have gone to the corner of the room but you didn’t let him! With his legs pulled to his chest, his wings closed around him like a shell, a thick blanket protecting him from the outside─ or from you, in either case. He had a pout on his lips, although you couldn’t see it, you were sure of what his face looked like; the furrowed brow, the wrinkled lips, the narrowed eyes filled with tears. You didn’t know whether to laugh or join him in his misery.
Your shoulders shook with a cruel contained laugh that you were seriously trying not to let out because his theatrical act of a broken heart would only worsen. You placed your hand on his back, which was where he was most exposed since his wings covered everything but his back. As if his body recognized you before he did, his wings opened, majestically flapping as if to say “look at me, we are precious!” with a song coming from nowhere. Lucifer felt betrayed by his own body.
“Don’t say anything!” he stopped you, raising a finger. He managed to fold his wings more calmly behind his back, letting out a sigh that you didn’t know if it was an emphasis for a monologue or a genuine part of his realization. “I just… didn’t think the punishment would affect me in something like making love!”
“Dear,” you placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, his lower lip protruding with what you recognized as a genuine pout, not just an extension of his act. You also let out a sigh, a calm smile that didn’t reach your eyes adorning your face. “We can still make love.”
“But not like you like…”
“Do you think that because you can’t scratch me or bite me I don’t like making love with you? For God’s sake!” you wanted to shake him by the shoulders until all the feathers fell from his wings. Instead, you leaned closer to him. “None of that matters to me if you’re in my bed!”
“Even if I can’t make you bleed?”
“Even when you can’t make me bleed,” you nodded, assuring your words with a hand on your heart.
Lucifer’s lips curved into a smile, shy but honest, relieved by your words despite the genuine anguish he hid behind his dramatic act, even when he hid beneath his wings. He placed a hand on your shoulder, leaned in for support, and his lips fell upon yours in a sealing kiss.
There's no way anyone can convince me that Percy doesn't like Valentine's Day. A day when he can give you flowers, sweets and affection? He already does that every day! but he sees it as a challenge to outdo himself, especially with how competitive he can be when he sees the other campers giving their partners extravagant gifts.
You weren't sure if Percy was really going to do something special for the occasion, perhaps take you for a walk in the evening or bring you a wildflower, but you didn't get your hopes up. Not because you didn't believe in him or in the possibility of being spoiled, but because you thought he would forget. Oh, and he hadn't even told you about a date a few days earlier, so even that made you doubt.
He daydreamed about you, and February 14th was just an excuse to spoil you all day and be overly affectionate without his friends making fun of him. An excuse to kiss your whole face when they sneaked out of training to giggle in secret. To see you looking even prettier, because it seemed like you thought the same way he did.
First, he takes his time getting up early to get ready. Taming his jet-black hair, as unruly as a wave during a storm, shaving his stupid teenage stubble (he has no idea how) and taking a good shower, he has to make sure he smells like something other than sand, salt and sweat. He takes pains to iron a shirt from the camp, even though it's useless, put on just the right amount of cologne and deodorant, brush his teeth, and even chew gum.
He never does that. He couldn't care less about his appearance when he's trying to survive day to day without being devoured by a monster or gods who woke up more bitter than usual that morning. He has to be ready for you, his Valentine's Day date! Or so he thought as he headed to your cabin to pick you up and take you to breakfast. Before forgetting about the flowers he had prepared in his cabin, he turned around and ran. He tripped over his shoelaces, but everything was in order!
He obtained water lily flowers after negotiating with a couple of fish in the lake, as the location of the camp would have made it difficult to swim until he found a perfect sea flower to give you. His idea was that you could put them in a vase with water and they would not wilt, unlike normal flowers. Oh, and Demeter's children couldn't get him magical flowers because they were busy with extra work due to the dates. He solved it himself.
When he saw you come out of your cabin, his smile was so wide that it warmed you like the afternoon sun on the beach, his cheeks burned and his dimples became pronounced. He didn't even let you step onto the doorstep to leave, he threw himself at you, almost shouting and laughing loudly—you couldn't remember the last time you had seen him so happy. So excited. So... him. No monsters or gods, the day belonged to his partner!
He accompanied you to the pavilion for breakfast, holding your hand. He was nervous and excited like never before. He had planned everything (for the first time in his life, coherently) and repeated it to himself mentally multiple times so as not to forget anything. He never stopped making you laugh or blush. When you giggled, he sighed as if a secondary mission on his list had been completed.
Chiron and Mr D didn't really bother to leave any activities for that day, no exciting games to keep him away from you that day. Percy doesn't know personal space, whenever he can he's on top of you or hanging around you, like a silent, dense protection, with a warm smile and mischievous eyes. His hand was always on some part of your body, either on your waist or on your shoulders, his eyes followed you everywhere, and he always had something to say.
He loved lying on the grass under the shade of the trees, his head resting on your legs. His words came out slurred, the accumulated fatigue of being someone like him overcoming him in peaceful situations. Your warmth made him dizzy enough to make his eyelids feel heavy, and the idea of taking a nap with you was too tempting to resist. He has already imagined a life with you. When the war is over and things calm down, he wants to build something with you. Whether you like marriage or not, even children, he wants to be with you for the rest of his days.
"But Valentine's Day doesn't happen in summer─" me vale verga
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 8.7k | 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ˒˒ fluff/smut, sub!amab!reader, softdom!percy, first time, grown-up characters, established relationship, dry humping, spicy, aftercare.
Percy was popular at camp. Who could deny it? The son of Poseidon had a trail of fame following him wherever he went; his name was on everyone’s lips—the well-known terror of the gods—and the best part came when puberty hit him. He began to get used to it, rolling his eyes in amusement at the cheers, the attention, the sighs, the compliments. They made him happy; they might have made him a little proud, but he still had his heart of gold.
Everyone saw Percy coming into his own, and it seemed he didn’t disappoint anyone—his height, his tan, his signature cocky smirk, the dexterity of his hands, the confidence in every step, his sword training, and he knew it. He liked to strut around, be a drama king, make a scene; he was the life of the camp when he wasn’t fighting for his life against monsters or gods trying to kill him.
Who didn’t love him? Everyone wanted to be with him! With the popularity that followed him everywhere, he had constant invitations to dates, proposals, or girls all over him. Those daring ones in sleeveless, low-cut shirts, shorts, ribbons in their hair, sweet smiles, and big eyes—but none of them were… his type. He’d laugh, flirt a little, but then awkwardly step back with some sarcastic comment. That’s why everyone was confused when he started taking an interest in the withdrawn boy from the cabin next door.
“Hey, handsome,” Percy smiled, his lips curving into a smug grin. He crossed his arms and leaned against a tree—the tree where you were sitting.
You blinked, once, then twice. You tucked a tangled strand of hair behind your ear, looking up at him. Slowly, deliberately; you took your time, analyzing his features. Every smile, every wink, every blush rising up his cheeks, the twitches in his eyes, the catch in his breath, the tremor in his hand, his Adam’s apple moving. He was nervous. You could see it.
You smiled too, more calmly, more vividly, more awkwardly. “Hey,” you waved awkwardly, feeling a natural warmth in your chest. His heart melted. “Do you need anything?”
“Well… Mr. D sent me to find volunteers for the canoe race.”
“Am I… a candidate for that volunteer position?”
He blinked; for a moment his brain stopped working because he didn’t understand why you’d used that mix of words. He cleared his throat; his hands in the pockets of his short pants didn’t make him look casual, just as uncomfortable as you, but it was different. You knew it was different.
“I meant─ well, I meant that I think you look like a good guy.”
"Good guy," you repeated under your breath. You let the words melt in your throat, tasted them, and clicked your tongue. "Do you think I can be on your team for the canoe race, then? "
"Yeah, something like that, " he shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "That’s how it works, right? “I want you on my team for Friday’s race.”
“Oh, thanks. No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. We’re not in the Devizes-Westminster International Canoeing Marathon.”
“The what?”
You smiled amusedly, as if you found it adorable that Percy didn’t understand a word of what you’d suddenly started talking about. You shrugged, chuckling to yourself as Percy’s confused expression also shifted into something more amused, more curious.
“It’s held in England! It takes place every Easter and covers 201 km from Devizes to Westminster.” It’s been held since 1948," you said calmly. "I read it in a book."
“Wow, not even Annabeth has facts that unnecessary.”
“Thanks!”
You laughed; you didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or just amused, but you found yourself laughing along. As if it had always been fun, as if you’d always known each other and could say things like that. Percy gestured with his hand and you nodded, so he plopped down next to you, sitting with his legs stretched out and his posture relaxed.
“Well… what else do you know?”
You tapped your chin with your finger, lost in thought. This was your chance! If the son of Poseidon was already sitting right next to you, showing interest in your ramblings about random things and asking for more, what was the harm in giving him what he wanted? You used to be very accommodating, with a charming and adorable grin.
“Huh. Do you know the Yeti Crab?”
“Kiwa Hirsuta?”
Your eyes sparkled, your hands on your knees, trembling with excitement at the urge to throw yourself at him. “You know its scientific name!” It was more of a statement than a question, just as you’d planned.
His cheeks flushed, his sea-green eyes widened at your sudden reaction, which was so unexpected to him. His brain couldn’t come up with a quick enough answer without stuttering.
“Y-Yes! As the son of Poseidon, I know quite a few sea creatures, haha.” He laughed awkwardly, then cursed himself for trying to match your energy, but failing.
“Sea dragon?”
“From the Syngnathidae family?”
You were delighted.
You were… weird, and not in the way the other campers were used to. You talked a lot but had no one to talk to; you were always reading, but not like the Athena kids—books about insects, strange animals, fiction, and fantasy, never history or math books. You preferred to gaze at landscapes without doing anything, listen to artists no one knew, skip workouts, ask questions no one else asked. You were weird, and even though no one picked on you, you had the label plastered on your forehead. You lived quietly, too deep in your thoughts, and then Percy set his sights on you, and you raised an eyebrow.
No one knew where it all came from, how from one day to the next they were walking everywhere holding hands, kissing on the cheeks, or when you whispered in his ear about your fixations. When you accompanied him to his training sessions, he helped you focus or reminded you of things you would have otherwise forgotten. You were way too close; the girls who had a crush on your handsome boyfriend would just roll their eyes when they saw you together, while the guys who secretly had a crush on him too would just sigh in disappointment. You had no idea how lucky you were; you lived in your own little bubble.
How could he not love you? You could spend hours on end talking about the origins of an invention whose name he couldn't even pronounce; you were very intelligent and talented, but there was more to it than that. The way you looked at him, the way you smiled at him, the crafts you made for him, how much you loved spending quality time together, the hugs, the nights sitting by the campfire; you were popular enough to make the girls feel like their jealousy couldn’t go far when you ran after Percy chattering about the new series you’d read.Well, but you were also a dumb. It sounded harsh, but it was the truth. You were clumsy at fighting, socializing, planning—you didn’t try to improve because sometimes you just didn’t care. You were caught up in the magic of being too distracted or too embarrassed to take steps forward; one in front of the other, smiling at others as if they weren’t judging you. As if you didn’t trip over your own feet, didn’t understand when people spoke to you, when your ADHD made you feel different even when you were supposed to fit in. You were a loser. And that was okay.
Summer was gradually coming to an end, which meant the weather was changing, along with the activities and games Chiron organized for his beloved campers—or so Percy thought as he took your hand and led you to the pier to watch the sunset. They sat on the sand; Percy draped your legs over his, his hand on your knee and yours on his shoulder, while you rambled on about the new video game coming out at the end of the year.
“Where are you going this year?” he asked. He wasn’t usually one to interrupt, but the question had popped into his head, and he decided to voice it.
You blinked, tilting your head to one side. “Where am I going?”
“Yeah, for winter holiday."
“Oh. Nowhere, I’ll stay at camp like always,” you replied, as if it were obvious.
“Like always?”
“Yeah, I spend the holidays at camp.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah. Hey, it’s fine, this isn’t anything new,” you patted him on the head. He almost laughed.
“Are you sure?” He tilted his head to one side. He saw you nod. “You don’t have to… be alone.”
“Hey, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s only until next summer.”
“What if we texted each other using Iris?”
“Of course!” You gave him a little shake by the shoulders. “We could play that new game I was telling you about; I wouldn’t let you miss a thing.”
Percy hummed, nodding. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, then finally leaned in and kissed you on the temple, telling you with his eyes that you could keep rambling if you wanted to, and that was the end of the conversation, because that’s exactly what you did. At another time, Percy would have been concerned about your lack of concern over the fact that you’d be alone after the summer, but he didn’t want to smother you with questions about why, so he let you keep talking.
His free arm wrapped around your waist while his hand, which had been on your knee, moved up to rest on your thigh. The nervous chuckle that bubbled from your lips made his chest swell; a mischievous smirk spread across his lips as he leaned in to get even closer to you, if that were possible. He was delighted by the way your cheeks flushed red at just a single approach.
“What?” he feigned innocence.
“What? No, nothing,” you hurried to say, looking away.
Percy chuckled, closing the distance with a gentle kiss that landed on your lips, leaving you even more dazed. Your hand on his shoulder slid down in an attempt to grab hold of something as you felt his tongue on your lower lip, asking permission to enter, which you didn’t know how to accept. You tightened your grip on the collar of his shirt, causing him to let out a sigh over your mouth as he leaned into your touch, deepening the kiss.
His mouth danced over yours, your free hand went to the back of his neck, and in a matter of moments your legs were wrapped around his. No matter how much shame or inexperience you felt, you didn’t back down—you managed to keep up with him. You felt his teeth capture your lower lip, making you gasp, and he took advantage of it to slip his tongue inside, which made you melt even more in his arms. Your whole body was vibrating with tingles from your cheeks to the tips of your toes; you let out ragged sighs at the slightest separation between you, desperately pressing your lips back together.
He would have pulled you onto his lap to keep kissing if it weren’t for the footsteps of the campers running behind you toward the dock, which startled you, causing you to pull away abruptly. Percy watched you catch your breath while he let out a disappointed sigh.
“Well… so you’ll be staying here for the holidays?”
You blinked, almost as if you’d forgotten what you were talking about before the kissing session. You chuckled and nodded, running a hand through your hair.
“Yeah… I’ll stay at camp. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
Percy clicked his tongue. “Well… if you say so,” he took your hand. “I want you to be okay.”
“I will be!” you smiled at him.
Your smile was contagious enough that Percy smiled too, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips, gentler than the last one.
Besides kissing him, you loved being in Percy’s cabin, sitting on his bed and chatting away while he tried to use those quiet hours to rest, because when he wasn’t fighting monsters, he had the chance to cuddle up with you, and nothing could compare to that. With his head on your chest, murmuring nonsense while your heartbeat lulled him to sleep.
You yawned; your throat moved as you swallowed, dry from spending half an hour discussing the different endings of a single game that you and three other people had been playing since it came out. You rubbed your eyes with your hand, exhaling a breath of air you didn’t know you’d been holding. Percy, barely awake and knowing it wouldn’t be long before exhaustion got the better of you too, turned his head so your eyes met.
“Tired, pretty boy?” His voice was hoarse and deep, the words drawn out lazily, as if they didn’t really have to come out.
“A little,” you admitted. A yawn interrupted you again, and you heard Percy’s laughter rumbling in his chest. “Just a little.”
“Are you sure? You can fall asleep.”
“Yes, I’m sure! I haven’t finished telling you yet—”
“You can tell me tomorrow.”
“But… but summer ends tomorrow,” you thought aloud. Your voice took on a higher, more nervous pitch as you rambled on. “Summer ends tomorrow, you’ll go back to your mother, and—and I’ll stay here!”
Percy blinked; any trace of sleep had now vanished at your response. He slid off you, sitting down beside you. Memories of that conversation on the beach hit him; it was as if a wave of guilt were tossing him about and he couldn’t do anything about it.
He took your hands and squeezed them. “Come with me.”
“What?”
You propped yourself up on your elbows until you were sitting next to him, your hands resting in your lap; your fingers nervously fiddled with the strings of the bracelets adorning your wrists, along with the large rings you’d found rummaging through the junk in Bunker 9. You bit your lower lip, and Percy fought the urge to kiss you right there, but he had to remember what he was talking to you about in the first place.
“Come with me… spend the holidays with me! I’m sure my mom won’t mind. Neither she nor Paul, and I’m sure Estelle will love you.”
“But… but I don’t know them.”
“What better time than Christmas! Come with me—you don’t have to stay at camp.”
“Percy, I don’t want to be a burden.”
“A burden? Don’t give me that,” he frowned, personally offended by your accusation. “Do you really think you’d be a burden?”
You bit your lip, shyly, then nodded. Percy’s frown deepened even more.
Percy cupped your face in his hands, his fingers gently caressing your cheekbones—with the caution of someone who fears breaking what’s in their care, yet with a desire simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes drifted down to your lips and then back up to meet yours. Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. It wasn’t as if you could say anything more with your mouth occupied by someone else’s.
You returned the kiss when you realized there was no point in arguing; you leaned in and agreed to his terms. It didn’t take long for his tongue to caress your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine and drawing a gasp from you when he next captured your lip between his teeth, demanding more of your mouth with a passion that was more than just tender love.
“Come with me,” he said between kisses. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He didn’t pull back far enough for you to say anything; he risked hearing you protest his plan. His hands moved from your face to your waist, his fingernails digging into your camp shirt, making you shiver as you leaned into his touch. Your hands found their way to his chest, seeking support so you wouldn’t fall, clinging once more to the fabric of his shirt. His intense sea-green eyes refused to look at anything but yours; he wanted to be attentive to every reaction, every expression, every shudder. Blinking felt like a punishment.
His hand slid beneath your shirt; yours traveled up to the nape of his neck, keeping your mouths pressed together—breathing wasn’t really necessary anyway. His pupils dilated, his eyes narrowed and finally closed as he felt your fingers tangle in his jet-black locks, clinging to him as you leaned forward to press yourself against him.
“Is that a yes?”
“Please shut up.”
“Yeah, okay.”
His hands on your waist guided you onto his lap; he spread his legs and took you on top of him without hesitation, your legs on either side of his hips. His hips thrust instinctively; he had to pull away from the kiss to breathe, his forehead resting on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he caught his breath. You were breathing just as heavily, your head tilted back, your Adam’s apple bobbing as you swallowed before speaking.
“Yeah… that’s a yes. I’m coming with you.”
You heard an amused snort escape his lips with the little breath he’d managed to catch, and he looked up at you with amusement and passion.
“You idiot…”
“You kissed me!”
He laughed even harder, his hands pulling you close. He fell backward onto the mattress with you on top of him, your head resting on his chest and your arms at your sides, with nowhere to go. You let out a laugh that was joined by his, leaving you on top of him like a proud man.
The next morning, you were picked up by the camp bus and dropped off at the local train station. You had never been to the town of Percy, New York. You didn’t know where to go, what to see, where you were, or why it was so crowded. Your eyes sparkled when you saw every hint of something you liked in the shop windows, when you stumbled while walking through the crowd to keep up with him, when you stumbled over your words ordering something to eat. Everything was new, and Percy was falling more and more in love with you.
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
“That won’t happen.”
“What about your stepfather?”
“Everyone likes him.”
“And what about your sister—”
“Honey,” he interrupted, a calm, affectionate smile on his face, trying to calm your frayed nerves.
You had bought bus tickets and arrived at the door of Percy’s new apartment, since he had told his mother he could go alone because he had a visitor. He had told her all of this in a text from Iris the night before, after you had fallen into a deep sleep—his mother was a very smart woman; of course she knew what her son was planning.
“My mom will love you,” he assured you with a smile wide enough to make you smile too, more shyly, with a tingling sensation on your cheeks.
“Okay… oh, okay, you win.”
Percy pinched your cheeks; the laughter that burst from your chest made him want to cover your face with kisses. His hands lingered insistently on your cheeks, massaging your skin as if you were a small child, and judging by how you laughed and your eyes sparkled, you were happy with that treatment.
The Jacksons' house was noisier and warmer than you expected, with the smell of freshly baked cookies and sea salt lingering in the air, toys and papers scattered across the floors, loud music, and lots of laughter. You were taken aback when you felt a little girl at your feet as soon as you walked in, followed by the laughter of a kind woman whom you recognized as Mrs. Jackson when she peeked out to greet you. Her smile was so much like Percy’s that you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. You received a few pats on the back from her stepfather.
It turned out Percy was right—the household was so close-knit and chaotic that you couldn’t help but feel at ease. Paul listened to you talk about your new book series while you served yourself dinner, Estelle let you brush her hair while you sang softly, and Sally taught you how to bake cookies while you danced around the kitchen. Percy was happy about how quickly you’d fit into his family; he didn’t even have to tell his mother about his boyfriend because you talked about him so much.
“So… you and Percy?” She raised an eyebrow. Her voice was feigning innocence, but inside she was brimming with maternal concern and a hunger for gossip.
You choked on the mixture you were secretly eating and had to cough a little before looking up. Your cheeks were red, you felt hot, and suddenly your body felt heavy with a tingling nervousness. What were you supposed to do?
“I, um…” you stammered. “W-what did he say, Mrs. Jackson?”
She chuckled. “Come on, dear,” she gestured with her hand. She bent down to your height, her thumb wiping a bit of cookie dough from your face—the very dough you’d been sneaking a bite of just moments before. She smiled sweetly. “I’m not here to judge you. Make yourself at home.”
You swallowed hard, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You didn’t know if Percy wanted his mother to know, and you didn’t know how the family would react. But even so, he gave you enough confidence to know that you could be sure nothing bad would happen, right? Because that was what you were really hoping for as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
“I, um…” You swallowed hard. “Mrs. Jackson, h-he and I… um, he and I…”
“Darling,” she sighed, moving close enough to you that you could smell the sweet scent of candy wafting from her Christmas sweater. She smiled at you sweetly again. “Do you think I don’t know?”
You blinked. You choked on your saliva.
“W-What?”
She chuckled. “Oh, you two are so obvious. Adorable!” she sighed happily. “I know my son all too well; of course I’m going to notice how head over heels he is for you. You know what? You’re a good guy, and I’m happy that you’re the one with him.”
“A-Are you serious, ma’am?” you asked timidly.
“Absolutely. It’s clear that the two of you love each other very much.”
You smiled. You really did—radiant and excited, a warmth like that of the sun pulsing through your chest; it must have been the thrill of acceptance, of Sally’s genuine love behind her words and that charming smile that made you feel like you truly belonged there, or that they were simply treating you as if you’d been there your whole life. Every laugh, joke, or hug was new to you; the first day was so welcoming and new that your cheeks ached from smiling so much.
Percy? Oh, he was delighted. Every time he saw you with Estelle in your arms, chatting with Paul, or following Sally around like a lost puppy, he felt his heart rate quicken; he couldn’t help but sigh with love every time you walked into the room, which seemed to glow brighter. He couldn’t ask for anything more than to be by your side, and you’d be at his house for the entire vacation.
“He’s cute,” Sally sang when it turned 5 p.m., her lips pressed against the coffee cup she was holding. You were learning how to use the over-the-air TV channels with Paul’s help, while Sally sat with her son at the kitchen table.
“Huh?” Percy looked up, swallowing the sip from his glass of juice. “Who are you talking about?”
“Him,” she replied. Slowly, a mischievous, knowing smile spread across her lips, making Percy feel small as he suspected what was on his mother’s mind. “You really like him, huh?”
He laughed awkwardly, blushing deeply. He bit his lip, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Y-Yeah, he…” He paused, swallowing. “…h-he’s cute.”
“Cute, you say?” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, young love.” She patted him on the back.
“Mom!” he exclaimed, sitting up straight, his face flushed and his eyebrows furrowed in embarrassment. The woman burst out laughing.
“What? I’m just saying you two are adorable!” She shrugged. Percy muttered something under his breath that his mother couldn’t quite hear. The woman placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you’re happy with him. He seems like a good guy.”
He swallowed hard; the blush on his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment at being so close to his mother, but he still felt her words warming his heart with their obviousness—his mother had noticed his crush on you, even without him having to say it outright.
“Percy!” you shouted, turning to look at him from your spot on the couch. You had a huge, excited smile stretching from ear to ear. “They’re showing The Lord of the Rings!”
Percy sighed, knowing that now he’d be stuck watching the nearly three-hour movie—or at least part of it—before your ADHD got bored and made you want to do something else. He wasn’t upset; he was just used to dealing with whatever you were hyper-obsessed with that week.
Actually, he wasn't wrong, because after almost half an hour of the movie, even you got bored. The two of you started talking; the hum of the movie's soundtrack faded into the background. It didn't really matter as you chatted and rambled on about a thousand things at once, the way only the two of you knew how.
Percy got up to find a set of sheets and pillows to create a cozy nest—or a fort, as you called it. You followed him, went into his room, and sat on his bed, taking in everything around you. There was all sorts of stuff there—from photos of the two of you to trinkets like gifts and more mementos that you both treasured.
“Do you still have that?” You knelt in the middle of his bed and reached up for the beaded bracelet sitting on a shelf next to his bedside table.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s the color of your eyes. I wear it when I feel like I’m not going to lose it.” He walked over to stand beside you, taking your hand with the bracelet on it. He’d pushed the blankets and pillows to one corner of the bed just to be close to you. “Is that okay?”
“I think it’s adorable,” you assured him with a smile.
Percy could only chuckle; the blush spreading from his neck to his cheeks spoke for itself. You reached out to cup one of his cheeks, a gesture to which he responded by leaning into the natural warmth of your body. His hand sank into the mattress beside you; after this gesture, he leaned in even further, just enough for you to read him all too easily. Your two hands cradled his face completely; you pulled him toward you and swore you witnessed the exact moment his mind melted away.
Your lips met his like an old magnet that always found its way, soft and loving in every sense of the word. His hand rose from its resting place on the mattress to hold you by the waist. His heavy hand was comfortable in its position, with no intention of moving as he leaned in further, his intention to press you beneath him became more obvious. Though it didn’t seem like he was trying to hide it either.
Percy’s body ended up pressed against yours, one of his arms at your sides while the other wound its way from your waist to your hip, his knuckles were white from the force with which he was holding you. You didn’t complain—in fact, you enjoyed the attention, despite the marks he intended to leave you with.
His kisses moved from your swollen lips to your jawline, descending to your neck as if he were tracing a delicate map with every mark he left. Your hands moved from the nape of his neck to his back, making sure to explore every inch of him with your touch. They were like flames of fire striking his skin, and he found himself not wanting to let you go anymore.
He turned, his body ending up beneath yours this time. Without stopping to assault your mouth with kisses, his hands on your waist pulled you down to kiss you hungrily (again) while he slipped his hands under your shirt. Your legs were beside his hips, your back arched as you leaned over him.
Yeah, the two of you would have kept up your horny teenage business if it weren't for the footsteps in the hallway.
You were the first to recognize the sound, the first to pull away from the kiss with particular haste. Your hands on his chest for support pushed you further away. You slipped out from beside him and sat up on the bed. Your breathing was ragged, as if you’d run across the entire camp grounds, your hair disheveled and your lips swollen and bruised. You blushed suddenly.
Percy took longer to react, he blinked several times, trying to take in his surroundings, as if he’d forgotten where he was. You tugged at the collar of his shirt to get him to sit up and compose himself too; his cheeks were flushed, his gaze dazed and clouded by lust, his hair standing on end in every direction. You would have laughed if it weren’t for Paul peeking through the door to announce dinner.
It was pure luck that Sally left the two of you alone, or it was pure luck that the movie Estelle had been begging to see on opening weekend happened to fall on the weekend you were visiting. That’s what you told yourself as you searched for nature documentaries about your favorite animal, because you were sure you’d already seen every one that existed. You were sitting in the living room armchair, scrolling through the catalog that Percy’s Netflix membership offered you with the remote control.
“Hey, sweetie,” Percy sang with a big smile, plopping down in the seat next to you with two bowls in his hands. “I brought you some fruit.”
“Awesome!” you squealed, lunging toward him to snatch the fruit plate. You chuckled, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. “Mmm! Thanks.”
“No problem,” he chuckled, seeing how excited you were, and popped a piece of fruit from his plate into his own mouth.
After eating comfortably in silence for a few moments, boredom set in faster than you were used to. Well, you were both restless. Percy yawned, his arm stretching behind the armrest of the chair, falling discreetly onto your shoulders. You didn’t seem to notice, but you leaned into his touch anyway, as if your body were already accustomed to his.
“Did you find anything to watch?” he sighed, his face close to your ear. It wasn’t a seductive tone, but calm and relaxed, like waves lapping the shore at dawn. He kissed your shoulder, desperately wanting to curl up with you until their bodies became one.
“The vampire squid. Vampyroteuthis infernalis.” You barely turned your head to look at him, smiling tenderly when your eyes met his.
Percy licked his lips, his head peeking through the hollow of your neck until it was just a few inches away. He looked at your lips, then at your eyes, his hand rising to lift your chin with a finger. The atmosphere had shifted too quickly; you could feel it in the tingling sensation on your cheeks and lower abdomen. You swallowed, leaning in instinctively. The shadow of a mischievous smile that didn’t reach his eyes played at the corner of his lips.
“Have I ever told you how much I love hearing you talk about sea things?” he whispered. His voice dropped to a hoarse rumble, audible only to you, the only other person in the room besides him.
You swallowed again, your gaze frantic, not just on his eyes but on his face—his lips, cheekbones, nose, eyebrows, simply everything. You remembered every detail—how his lips were split, the small scar on his eyebrow, the mole on the side of his chin, his dark circles, the scar near his temple, the barely noticeable trace of stubble that not even he knew about. You were sure you knew everything about him, but still you never tired of looking at him—that’s why it took you so long to nod in response to his question.
“Good,” he gestured, because he didn’t even say it—it was just his breath that sounded like words. He cleared his throat, realizing he hadn’t heard his own voice. “Because I don’t want you to forget it.”
Then he closed the distance between them, his lips falling on yours as if gravity had vanished. The fruit plates were forgotten on the floor at the foot of the armchair, the fabric and cushions sank under their weight as Percy brought his free hand to your waist, sliding down to your hip while squeezing and groping whatever part of you was within his reach.
This kiss was different from the others, much more passionate, wet, and messy than the previous ones, a tangle of tongues and teeth. Being alone definitely stirred both of your hormones, even yours when you swore you were calmer than he was, while your hands went to the back of his neck to hold on to something, your thighs opened instinctively, and he took the opportunity to slither between them as if he had always belonged there.
Percy’s hands on your hips applied just enough force to lift you up easily, your mouth was too busy with his for you to protest when he lifted you onto his lap—or maybe your head was just too dizzy to think of anything other than him. Your arms wrapped around his neck; your hair stuck to your forehead from the sweat caused by the heat building up between your bodies as they rubbed against each other.
“Can we—” he tried to say, moaning into your mouth as your thighs fell to either side of his hips, the weight making his body tremble. He swallowed. “can we go to my room?” he finished saying.
You nodded. That was how, without much effort, he picked you up, his arms were under your thighs as he lifted you off the couch. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as if by instinct, your mouth fell on his once more without giving him time to say anything else, to which he was totally on board with keeping up the pace.
Percy kicked open the door to his room and, stumbling, found his way to the bed, where they both fell onto the mattress. The initial laughter caused by the weight of one on top of the other turned into ragged moans, and the silent house filled with gasps and heavy breathing that made you two grateful to be alone at home.
His body was on top of yours, his hands roaming from your waist to your hips, touching everything in their path, marking you and groping you possessively, not wanting to miss a single part of your body. Your hands were clinging to his shirt, the fabric wrinkled across his back as you nearly tore his clothes off with your nails.
Then—you felt him move. His hips jerked forward, and you felt a hard bulge pressing against your crotch. Startled, you jumped back, your hands on his chest; the shock left him dazed, blinking dazedly for a few moments.
“What—”
“I-I’m sorry, um… I-I just felt something…”
Reality hit him as hard as a bucket of ice water, his cheeks flushed even more—as if that were possible—and his eyes widened as if he’d suddenly realized exactly what you were talking about in a matter of seconds. He swallowed hard after nearly choking on his own saliva. He sat back on his heels, his hands going to his crotch in a discreet attempt to hide the uncomfortable bulge that was growing.
“S-Shit!” He bowed his head, his ears were burning like crazy. “I-I’m sorry! Gods, I’m an idiot—”
“Percy,” you reached out your hand to touch his face. His lower lip trembled slightly, but he met your gaze. “C-can I ask you something?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Can you do it again?”
“Do it again?”
Your face flushed, and you felt a warm sensation in your lower stomach. You struggled to find the right words to express how you felt, opening and closing your mouth hesitantly. Percy was confused, stupidly excited, and staring at you, waiting for you to say what he himself had said. Any trace of confidence or his usual playful personality had gone out the window when he realized he didn’t know what he was doing.
You took a deep breath. You cradled his face with both hands, pulled him closer, and guided him. Your body leaned backward until your back rested on the mattress. Percy’s body leaned over yours, his hands resting on either side of your head. He tilted his head to one side, his sea-green eyes resembling those of a confused puppy with no orders to follow.
Your hands found their way to his hair, stroking his jet-black curls as your brain sent commands to your mouth to speak up already, but at the same time you were lost in the moment. Finally, you swallowed and cleared your throat.
“Can you… move your hips again? Like you were doing before?” you found yourself saying. The heat embracing your cheeks was starting to become scorching, like a barrier standing between you and lust and consent.
Percy blinked, the corners of his mouth turning down in an awkward grimace of sheer embarrassment, as if the mere memory of what he’d been doing when his hormones had clouded his judgment had left him frozen in place. But when he saw you, how your beautiful eyes were shining and pleading, it was as if whatever self-control he had left had vanished. He nodded, his lips moving to the corner of your mouth to plant a small kiss before positioning himself better between your legs.
His hips began to move against yours, you immediately felt the heat of his crotch brush against yours, and your breath caught in your throat. Percy hesitated for a moment, his eyes opened wide, and a wave of concern washed over them, but you gave him a nod to keep moving—and he did. You spread your legs wider to give him more room to settle in. His hands clenched the sheets on either side of your head to hold on tightly.
It was like a warm tingle that energized your body like a shot of adrenaline. Your hands moved from his hair to the back of his neck to pull him toward you, your lips collided with his frantically, your energy motivating him enough to give him confidence in his movements. You moaned into his mouth and he growled. You began to feel the blood rushing through your body at an accelerated pace, accompanied by a buzzing in your ears.
You moved his head, guiding it to the hollow of your neck as you tilted your head back. Percy let out a muffled sound, his lips fell against your skin, kissing and licking. You bit your lip, stifling your moans, your eyes narrowed, clouded with lust and a hunger for more. Percy pulled away after a few moments, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure. He felt a shiver run down his spine at the protesting whimper you let out when he stopped.
“Are you okay?”
“You’re still asking?” You raised an eyebrow. Your hands moved from the nape of his neck to his shoulders, and you settled back against the headboard, watching as he leaned in toward your body heat. “I… I want you, Percy.”
“I want you too,” he gasped, leaning in to rest his head in the crook of your neck again. His lips traced a path of kisses from your shoulder to the cup of your ear, pulling away to look at you. “Are you… sure?”
“We’re not sixteen.” you said without hesitation. Your arms hung around his shoulders as if it were perfectly natural to be there, touching each other in each other’s personal space.
You needed to touch his skin, not just rest your hand on his shoulder over the fabric of his shirt. One of your hands slid down his side, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and feeling his skin beneath your fingertips. You heard a stifled gasp from him, a shiver running down his spine, and felt his posture suddenly straighten. You didn’t know whether to chuckle or ask if everything was okay.
“We… we’re nineteen, we’ve been dating for almost a year…”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I, um…” You blushed even more, trying to find the exact words instead of rambling out of nervousness. You swallowed, feeling small under his penetrating and intense gaze. “…I want us to have our first time. Me with you and you, uh, w-with me.”
Percy’s eyes widened the moment he realized what you were really saying. It wasn’t just the blush on his cheeks that made him look flushed; if you squinted, you could see sweat beading on his temples and his jet-black curls sticking to his forehead. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. You felt a pang of guilt that made you feel awkward and guilty for choosing those exact words. Just as you were about to apologize and move to get out of bed, you felt his hand clench your arm, stopping you.
“Wait!” he finally managed to say. If only his brain could work faster when he was horny. “I-I never said no.”
It was your turn to blink. “What?”
“Want to give it a try?” He tilted his head to one side, looking pretty excited to have his first time with you. The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. “I have condoms in my nightstand.”
“W-Why the hell would you have condoms in your nightstand?!” you replied hastily, your eyes wide and a deep blush caressing your cheeks. Percy couldn’t help but finally chuckle under his breath.
“Remember when we were in my room talking about whether you’d come with me on winter holiday? He raised an eyebrow. When you nodded, he hummed. “Well, I’ve had my contacts ever since. Ouch!”
“You idiot!” Your hand slapped his chest. Your lips threatened to curl into a smile.
“What? I’m just being honest!” He couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst from his chest. “Are we going to have sex or not?”
“Don’t be obscene!
“I’m not being obscene!”
“I should say no and leave your house.” You frowned, your lips curling downward into a scowl. Your hands went to the hem of your shirt, and any teasing Percy might have had died in his throat as you pulled the shirt over your head.
His brain short-circuited. It wasn’t that he’d never seen you shirtless before—he’d convinced you to work out together when you weren’t sitting on the steps of your cabin counting rocks; sometimes you’d bathe together or play in the lake. But this? The context was so different that his arousal began to manifest itself by tightening his pants.
Percy pounced on you and everything went blurry. His hands touched every part of your body they could reach, your hands roamed his body and you pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion, touching everything within your range with his body hovering over yours. The kisses were like fireworks; hot, brief, and repetitive. You could never get enough of each other’s mouths—the way he bit your lower lip before caressing it with his tongue, or how your mouth let him treat it however he wanted.
Two pairs of pants ended up on the floor, without such a sudden barrier between you, the physical closeness felt even greater. Bites on your neck, on your chest, scratches on your arms, hickies on your shoulders and throat. The room began to fill with whispers, laughter, and jokes that quickly turned into moans, gasps, and groans when he rubbed his hips against you again.
His breathing was ragged, his head was nestled in the crook of your neck, his teeth clenched against your skin, but without biting or applying pressure. It was a way to stifle the sounds he was trembling to let out. His hands were running along your sides. He reached one of them toward his nightstand to open a drawer and rummage for a condom. You were so overwhelmed by all the new sensations you were feeling that you didn’t bother to ask him when he’d hidden them, since he’d spent the whole day with you.
His movements were clumsy as he stripped off his underwear, suddenly looking away from you, shy, as he opened and put on the condom. Shy—the same cocky guy who had just bitten your shoulder hard, leaving a white mark with purple bruises around it. You raised an eyebrow, torn between amused tenderness and the desire to milk him dry, so you decided to strip off your underwear too.
“Is it okay if I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“What part of me makes you think I do?”
“Right. Okay, good point.” He laughed awkwardly, a laugh that made you laugh along with him in the same way.
You lay back down fully, your back against the mattress and your body turned toward him. You bit the inside of your cheek, your nerves and anticipation making you sweat. You could feel the adrenaline making you breathe heavily no matter how hard you tried to hide it. You ran your hands through your hair, keeping your gaze fixed on Percy as he settled between your legs, one hand on your side and the other next to your head. His sea-green eyes pierced right through you.
“Ready?”
“N-No.”
“Oh. Um. Me neither. Do you want to keep going?”
“Yes.” You nodded. He nodded.
With a breath he tried to pass off as confident but failed miserably, he positioned himself at your entrance and slid in slowly. He cursed under his breath, biting his lip, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again just to look at you, not wanting to miss a thing. A groan vibrated in your throat, your face contorted with pleasure, and immediately you felt your legs tremble with slight spasms. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, where to touch or where to rest them.
One of Percy’s hands—the one that had been on your side—moved up to rest on top of yours, placing it on his shoulder. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, he remained immobile inside you with no intention of making a move until the two of you had grown accustomed to the new sensation. His hand returned to your side, caressing your warm, sweaty skin with his thumb, gentle movements in an attempt to ground himself. The hand that had been resting beside your head moved to take yours, intertwining your fingers, pressing your hand against the mattress. You squeezed his hand, exhaling heavily but less tensely as you began to get used to the sensation of having him inside you.
Percy’s movements were slow. He wasn’t very loud, but he groaned with his head nestled in the crook of your neck, trembling and lost. His head was spinning, he couldn’t believe what was happening. He was so in love with you that taking this intimate step could only have existed in his wildest dreams—dreams he never spoke of. You began to suspect something was wrong when there were days he wouldn’t look you in the eye.
The room filled with moans, ragged breaths, and clumsy movements. Sweat covered his olive skin, the marks you’d left on him just moments before were beginning to turn purple and red. Your hand on his shoulder moved up to the back of his neck to tilt his head and pull him toward you in a wet, messy kiss. Percy moaned into your mouth and deepened his thrusts, making them deeper and faster.
Everything was disorganized and blurry, the assault of touches and thrusts making both of you dizzy. It was hard to say anything amid the tension and nerves, your gazes were fixed and honest, with love and passion filling the air. His thrusts were deep and unbridled, when he wasn’t moaning against your lips, his head was on your shoulder, biting and kissing marks in his name. His hand found its way to wrap around your member, making you arch your back as he began to stroke you.
“Mhng! P-Perce—”
“I know,” he said, lifting his head. His lips pressed against yours roughly, as if to drown his moans against your mouth. He squeezed your hand and pressed it deeper into the bed, his hips moving even faster as the knot in his stomach threatened to break free. A sharp moan, like a whimper, was torn from his throat. "j-just let me take care of you."
Curses and incoherent prayers overwhelmed him as he spoke, his movements became desperate and pleading, frantic in their search for release at any cost. His head returned to the hollow of your neck once more—the one that wasn’t as marked or bitten as the other side. His teeth dug into your skin as the knot came loose, his release ending in the condom inside you. His hand paused when he felt the warm liquid coat his hand and your chest.
Their breathing slowed after a few intense, frantic moments. The room remained silent until Percy kissed the fresh bite mark, tilting his head to the other side to return the kisses—gentle and comforting after leaving you aching and trembling, with spasms and moans escaping your lips.
Percy pulled out of you, removed the condom, tossed it aside, and got out of bed. His legs were shaking, and it hurt to move as the adrenaline began to wear off. You propped yourself up as best you could on your elbows, frowning and feeling a pang of longing in your chest at the absence of his warmth against yours.
“Percy…?”
“Just a moment!” he said over his shoulder. He bent down to pick up his underwear, put it on, and left the room. From where you were still lying in his bed, you heard him moving back and forth, turning on the faucet, and grabbing things. When he returned, he had a damp towel and a glass of water.
He sat on the edge of the bed, helping you clean up, get dressed, and drink some water before lying down again. You didn’t move a muscle. He leaned over you once more when he was done, his arms wrapping around yours so you could stay embraced. His lips brushed your temple with a ghostly kiss, keeping his head so close to yours that your breaths mingled.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and weary. His eyes were threatening to close, but he wanted to stay awake with you just a little longer. To feel you with him just a little longer.
“I love you too,” you said softly, dragging out the words lazily. You turned your head to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, smiling with the weary smile of someone in love.
Percy pulled the sheets up to cover both of you. You curled up in bed, holding each other, exchanging occasional little kisses, whispering private words, or laughing wearily. The intimacy wasn’t just sexual, it was the intimacy of finding someone who made you feel whole and at peace.
Thinking about Dick Grayson and how he's such a charming scoundrel, with an ego so big it takes up all the oxygen when you're in a room with him and you can't breathe, but with a heart to match. How he smiles like the world owes him something, how he flirts like it's the first time and looks at you like he knows he already has you wrapped around his arm. Still, he's a complete mess.
He couldn't be away from you without feeling like a part of his soul had been taken away from him. He gave you his whole heart, and if you left the house for a few minutes without telling him, he'd be waiting for you, sitting on the couch as if he hadn't sat for twenty minutes in front of the door waiting for your return, pouting.
The kind of boyfriend who invited you on shopping dates at the mall, gave you his credit card, let you buy whatever you wanted, and carried your bags in his hands on the way home. He's a clumsy gentleman, sometimes forgetting to open doors or the rule of walking on the sidewalk, but he does his best when it comes to paying for the dates, giving you his jacket, or giving you flowers at least once a week.
In public, he's "discreet" (what's discreet to this man?) with gestures like his hand on your lower back, subtle glances to make sure you were okay, or kisses on the palm of your hand. Tall enough to lean down to hear you when you were talking, even though it was too noisy outside. But behind closed doors, he was nothing more than a whiny, clingy kid because when you ordered sandwiches at that grocery store near your house, they forgot to take out the pickles.
He follows you around like he's lost, looks at you with hearts in his eyes when he thinks you're not noticing, and daydreams like you're not even there. His favorite part of the day is lounging with you on the couch, playing video games, eating junk food, and then setting a terrible sleep schedule by staring at the ceiling and talking to you on a cold winter night.
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 4.3k | elements (violence, language, jokes) of the canon, a bit ooc (I'm getting used to the character), short
made for @lossdream | ma'am I want my Lucifer's draw
He doesn’t know how he ended up like this. Every day he tells himself that he is completely sorry, that it was a mistake and that he would never do it again, but the words flow from his mouth every time he sees himself in front of the mirror so that his ego doesn’t get hurt. As always.
You are his favorite employee. Not Val’s, not Velvett’s, his employee. The one who brings him coffee, gives the reports, the papers, announces the layoffs, gets rid of the bodies. You did your job like any employee (not lazy) and still, you had something special. That’s how Valentino called it when Vox mentioned you for a fraction of a second, although he never quite understood if it was sarcasm or he was serious, which meant that he probably wanted you in one of his films, but he wouldn’t… allow it.
You arrived at the tower on a peculiar day. Less miserable, as the news announced, while they split someone’s skull in two with an axe right in front of the VoxTek tower before you entered with security. A tall, confident, and positive demeanor to get the position you wanted. The interview was simpler than you had heard as whispered rumors in the streets, in less than an hour you had already gotten the position, they would expect you on Monday at the scheduled time and they let you leave. That was your first impression of Vox beyond the public impression.
“Mondays are for making the opening week itinerary, Tuesdays you organize the television scripts, Wednesdays and Thursdays the new releases, and Fridays we close the week” he said, his arms behind his back as he walked and chatted about what would be your new job. He turned on his heels to face you. “Did you understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
Vox almost wanted to laugh. Instead, he nodded. Something told him that you weren’t going to last long, you looked too happy and optimistic to be in hell, even in his company. He knew that people didn’t last long, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. But little did he know how stubborn and determined you were, as the position of just another weekly assistant started to feel too small for what you once thought when you got the position. And even he noticed it.
You used to leave the cup of his bitter coffee on the coaster of the desk, the reports (and complaints) from employees in your free hand, organized as you knew he liked. You waited for him to come through the door; you asked him about his day, and after he rolled his eyes at you, you started with your part of the job. If you had to be honest, you didn’t understand why suddenly everyone was complaining about Vox. A bad boss? But he gave you recognition!
“Descent” he formulated once, leaving the papers on the desk.
He always insisted that the papers were useless, with all the technology that existed, there were still employees who used papers. But you were one of the few who did not receive reprimand for this. Vox put his feet up on the desk, looking at you with what you did not know if it was pride reluctantly or simplicity. He cleared his throat, his hand went to adjust the bow tie around his neck naturally, as he always did when he was bored, and then he put his arms behind his head.
“What else did I ask you to do?” he raised an eyebrow.
You put your arms behind your back, maintaining a relaxed posture. “Take care of Shock.Wave.”
Vox raised an eyebrow. “Did I tell you to do that?” he thought out loud, as if he had forgotten. There was a moment of silence, where he simply shrugged with disinterest. “Yeah, of course. Do it.”
You approached the large fish tank in the office, the size of a wall. A happy smile that did not reach your eyes when you tapped the glass with your finger, the huge shark swam to the place of the sound in a matter of seconds, resting its forehead against your hand. You let out a laugh and began with its daily care, like feeding it fresh meat, cleaning its glass, checking if it needed a water change, or talking to it about your day as if it were your best friend who was going to give you a response. You were the only one Vox trusted with the care of his son.
Then he stayed working in the same room as you, and the silence was anything but… annoying. I mean, if you wanted to hum a melody, play with Shock.Wave, or talk to yourself. Vox did not yell at you to shut up with a threat of dismembering you in between. It almost seemed comfortable, seriously! You told yourself that he seemed less tense without annoying noises when he could hear you were there.
You were lucky, the others told you, poor soulless shells for having ended up working for him thanks to a stupidity, never of your own will, contrary to yours. Your life seemed better in hell than when you were alive, but you did not overthink too much. Vox? Vox was kind to you! He responded to your good mornings with a “mph” instead of his indifferent silence or disgusting sarcasm, it almost seemed like he paid attention to you when you dared to ramble about a topic you liked, he did not kick you out of his office, sometimes he agreed with you, he kept you away from the perverted workers of Val (or himself), he did not yell at you. He was kind to you!
It all started one day when you entered his office, as usual. An unpleasant day, like any day in hell, the sky just as red as always, the atmosphere just as miserable, the heat just as suffocating; nothing had changed. The sound of a coffee cup being placed on the table was what made you lift your gaze from the reports you had in your hand. You raised an eyebrow because he never arrived before you.
“Sir?” an awkward laugh bubbled from your chest. You lowered your gaze to the coffee you were holding in your hand. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know you had already brought yours.”
“This is not mine” e pointed out, disinterested as always. The claw with its light blue nail pointed to the coffee cup. “, I don’t drink coffee with sugar. The bitch who served them didn’t hear what I said, at least you are more competent when you bring them.”
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, daring to say “So, um, can I─”
“Yes, take it. Get it out of my sight.” he gestured with his hand, rolling his eyes.
At that moment, you didn’t do much, you laughed under your breath, leaving his coffee in its place on the coaster where it always was. He was looking at the huge pool the size of a wall with his son inside, swimming peacefully, threatening and terrifying, as always. His arms behind his back didn’t move, nor did his face, but somehow he looked over his shoulder to signal that you could take the sweetened coffee.
That’s how it started. Vague lies, mediocre excuses, and a lot of arrogance praising himself. A new outfit? Oh, Valentino said it would look good on you, it highlighted your curves. New shoes? Velvett hated them and got rid of them cleanly. New tech gadgets? A poor idiot among his workers mixed up the addresses and the packages ended up at your door, but you never received complaints demanding a return. Then one day you received a card in the name of VoxTek and you knew something had happened in the flat head of your boss.
You spent more time in his office taking care (playing) of Shock.Wave, gradually you managed to get under his skin with this same tactic to get conversation topics, and it worked! I mean, there had to be something behind the fact that he now responded to you more than with simple “mph” or “uh-huh, yes.” Once he let out a laugh! Sarcastic, but it was still a laugh. You were delighted at how he seemed clearly protective of you in his own way, with how he let you buy what you wanted for him to see, and he did.
Then he started to flirt.
“Oh, but what a beauty” he whistled. You had just passed in front of him on your way to the stairs. You turned around, running a hand through your hair and the other to your chest.
“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.
“What? Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.” he chuckled. Your response only stroked his ego as if you were petting the fur of a spoiled cat.
You decided to ignore him, right? It was foolishness, it would soon pass, maybe by next week he would become obsessed with another employee or another sinner wandering the uncomfortable streets. But those weeks turned into months with just a couple of blinks, with a speed of time that you didn’t measure that had him obsessed in the palm of your hand.
Vox was pathetic, if you had to be honest. Too proud, unappealing hints, tasteless jokes. And you liked that, it amused you, even made you feel tenderness, it was nice to hear how he had changed more obviously while you remained the same employee as always, just now more spoiled and with less work on your plate.
“Hello, sweetness” he dragged the words as soon as he saw you enter through the doors of his office, sitting in the armchair instead of behind his desk. He lifted his head when he heard your chuckle, which meant it was probably a good sign. “How did it go?”
“What do you mean?” you raised an eyebrow.
“About the party you went to yesterday… your tracker started beeping all night.”
“All night─ YOU PUT A TRACKER ON ME?”
“Mhn” he nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was no regret behind his eyes. “I need to take care of my employees.”
“Do you do that with everyone?”
Vox let out an explosive and thunderous laugh, a joke too good to leave it as a chuckle. He wiped a tear from the screen and turned to see you completely, his brow furrowed with pitying amusement, as if he were grateful you made him laugh that way, similarly his lips were curved upwards.
“Of course not!” and he laughed loudly again like a rogue. “No one is that important. Except…"
“You said the same thing last week”
“It’s not like my opinion has changed!”
You raised an eyebrow, you knew he was hiding something given that his egocentric theatricality shone brightly. When his smug smile was so wide it showed his teeth across the screen. Something made you distrust, something was what he wanted, and somehow, you were sure he was going to get it.
He cleared his throat, intertwined his fingers, and leaned on his hands, with his elbows on the backrest of the armchair where he remained reclined. His smile darkened enough to confirm your theories of the moment.
“I have a proposal for you…”
“Ah, there it is”
“Let me continue” he chuckled, disgusted at the idea of being interrupted, smiling pitifully. He extended his hand towards you “Come with me to the Overlords' gala”
You jumped in your place, raised an eyebrow, and almost tripped over your feet when you decided to straighten up. Hearing his victorious laugh again discreetly sent a shiver down your spine. In a blue electric flash, Vox appeared in front of you, still with his hand extended, each time more impatient that you are not giving him the answer he expected. He longed. He needed.
“Come with me to the gala that will be among the Overlords this weekend, a profit recap and shit like that. It has always been done” he leaned towards your height, his smile dropped just a little to keep pressing. “I bet you will have a great time.” but you didn’t fall so easily.
“A gala?” you raised an eyebrow. You managed to regain the little courage you had left. You swallowed. “Why would you suddenly be interested in an event like that? And what if I say no?”
He didn’t like your answer. His smile fell as quickly as it appeared, in its place was a flash of offended and angry smile, he usually didn’t receive a “no” in response. But more than once he had shown you that he wasn’t good at giving you a “no” either. That’s why it took him so long to think of a response, instead of reaching out and crushing your neck until you said yes, he took a deep breath, giving you that bloodstained smile with false empathy and his eyebrows curved with pity.
“Dear… oh, you don’t know how lucky you would be. Alcohol, food, contacts, all free if you just come with me!” this time he did take your arm. It wasn’t a rough or painful touch, his fingers wrapped around your arm securely, as if he were afraid you would leave with a definitive no. His smile softened in a less arrogant way, one you hadn’t seen before.
“I offer you a gift in exchange for a yes.” he concluded, his voice with a mechanical purr that made you think twice.
But you knew that was what he wanted, that he had you in the palm of his hand doing what he had instinctively urged you to do. But you didn’t fall so easily as you thought you would.
“Are you buying me?”
Vox’s eyes widened. A laugh that you couldn’t identify if it was from realizing his stupid words, and that he could have used other ones. Or maybe it was disbelief that you were talking to him like that. Whatever the case, he let go of your arm, putting a hand on his face. His laughter started to give you certain creepy nerves.
“Buying you? Don’t fuck with me!” he kept laughing. For a moment you thought he was going to raise his voice at you, but it didn’t happen. “I’m inviting you to a party where I know you will have a good time! Buying you?” he repeated. His voice broke with static interruptions, which only started to make you uncomfortable.
“Vox” you stopped, raising your hand. As soon as his name left your lips he stopped, as if you had pressed a pause button. You blushed with strangeness. “Sir, um… do you want me as your companion? What about Valentino?”
“He will go with one of his whores”
“Velvett?”
“She hates going accompanied, she says we dim her shine.”
“Oh” you said. You had a dry throat, you didn’t know what else to say.
I mean, you really weren’t losing anything if you went, Vox was going to take care of the transportation, your outfit, presentation, and everything you asked for. As he always did. You didn’t know whether to say you were uncomfortable or excited.
“I… I will go” you sighed. You could have sworn the brightness on his screen increased with excitement. You added; “But! No harassment, or─ or I’ll leave the company!”
“You have my word” he put a hand to his chest, a proud (and somewhat excited) smile blooming at the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether to distrust even more.
And well, it had been a yes. And you weren’t someone who lied with your word, unlike what you thought Vox did.
That weekend you had left your house with an outfit that had appeared at your door from Velvett, a quite nice one with the note “you better wear it, bitch” in the box. What confidence.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you felt strange when a luxurious car with the plate “TRUST US” parked with the windows down, calling your name. It was even stranger because; while you lived in a low-income neighborhood, blood, trash, and vomit everywhere, you climbed with your expensive high-heeled shoes into the back seat of what you now knew was a limousine. The ride became quite uncomfortable when you started to hear the driver just crying about his ex-wife.
Finally, you arrived at the reception of the towering building. The first thing you saw was Velvett yelling at the poor underpaid man who had to work as a receptionist that night. You didn’t know whether to move forward, stand still, act uncomfortable as if nothing had happened or that you had known her your whole life.
“MY SHOW IS BEING DELAYED BECAUSE OF YOUR FUCKING FAULT, CHEAP WHORE! Nothing you’re wearing matches, you should be ashamed to be near me. NO, DON’T TOUCH ME! If anything goes wrong here, I will use your skin as a coat, maybe that way it will be more useful than your fucking presence” she waved her fist in the air. You were sure that as soon as you turned around, the poor man had already received a punch.
Yes, approaching Velvett was not an option. Neither was Valentino when you turned around and saw him enter through the same door as you. For a moment, you felt trapped. Or at least that was until you saw a nearby door that opened to the stairs.
With some complicated high-heeled shoes, you ran to the stair door, pushed it with more force than you had measured, and stumbled over your feet. It was dark, with little lighting and a smell of dampness. You climbed the stairs with careful steps, each echo that resonated made you question if you were alone; the first answer was yes during the first steps until you saw another door. It wasn't very big, a lightweight burnable wooden door that you opened without even needing to take the knob.
You squinted your eyes to focus on your now illuminated surroundings; the smell of preserved ginebra and cleaning detergent reached your nose, your first instinct at that moment was to grimace, your hand rose to cover your nose. The smell diminished in strength as you ventured further; it was one of the many bars in the building, with yellow lights and jazz music resonating in the four walls. A sinner behind the bar (who definitely didn't want to work that night) barely greeted you with a hand gesture, making an inviting motion to one of the high chairs.
One of the people you least expected to see getting drunk, or at least with a round of glasses of whiskey with melted ice in front, was Vox. He looked quite depressing, with a face of few friends. No theatrics, egocentrism, or any trace of a presumptuous personality, just… him.
With doubt, you continued walking, you climbed onto the stool next to him. The worker turned around after leaving you a glass of wine in front, disappearing as if he didn't care about what would happen next.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was avoiding Valentino. You?"
"I just arrived." You took the glass with some hesitation. You smelled it; first of all, you had to make sure they weren't going to poison you, and not feeling anything made you a little less uneasy.
"I was also escaping from Valentino. Velvett was yelling at the manager."
“Oh, that man was not the manager.”
Vox barely laughed, and you found yourself more surprised than you expected. His arms were crossed over the counter; for a few moments, you played that his robotic pupils were dilated, something you hadn't seen even when he danced between the limbo of hangover and drunkenness. You couldn't help but chuckle under your breath, and for some reason, he did too. The sound filled the atmosphere like an ambiguous melody that hadn't been played on the record player for a long time.
Vox seemed to feel how your heartbeat appeared to increase, how you smiled from ear to ear without realizing it. A more genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He extended his hand, his fingers sparkled with anticipation, his smile softened into something gentler, a more discreet flirtation than his shows when you arrived at work and he felt you looked particularly good. I mean, always.
You looked at his hand, then at him. His smile was contagious and you agreed, slowly standing up and taking his hand, his fingers closing and intertwining with yours as he also got up from his seat. His hand gently held yours, while his other hand moved to your hip with a ghostly touch, pretending it wasn't there as he began to sway back and forth with you to the beat of a song that didn't exist. Your free hand rested on his shoulder, carefully, gently, as if you didn't want him to remember you were there. As if he could forget.
“What are you doing?” you couldn't help but laugh confused after spinning around thanks to him.
“Fulfilling my part” he puffed out his chest with pride, shaking his head. “I told you you were going to have fun.”
“You're an idiot “
“You are gorgeous” he sighed, his gaze was so deep that you felt there was no way he could be lying.
You laughed again and he noted that now it was his favorite sound. He let out a satisfied sigh, leaned forward, buzzing in front of your face. Inside, he was giggling and kicking like a schoolgirl at not being pushed away by a punch, it had to be the closest he had been to you! He was going to brag about that later if he didn't suffer a short circuit in the next ten minutes.
You had never seen him… like this. Vulnerable, honest, relaxed? All together made you think you were dancing and interacting with another person, not with your boss. For a long time, Vox had stopped acting like a professional boss; he was more likely to seem like a gentlemen lover (who, by the way, he really was not) who always pampered you, bought you things, and gave you his attention.
He made you spin again. The laughter you let out, how you moved your feet trying not to step on him, how easy you were to move with such a silly dance spread a pixelated blue blush across the screen. He simply couldn't not be close to you.
“What are you laughing at?” you tilted your head to one side.
“At you… you're charming” he also laughed, his fingers drummed on your palm, an affirmation that they were still there; more for him than for you. “And I am too powerful to have close.”
“Oh, really?” you raised an eyebrow, still couldn't help but smile smugly, there was fun marked in your whole being.
“Yes, of course!” he sang, his proud smile widened enough for you to see his sharp teeth.
“Mhn” you feigned indifference. That was enough to put a stunned expression on his face, you couldn't help but feel pleased with your mischief.
“But how… powerful?”
“I can do whatever I want!” he added quickly.
“What you want?” you pressed.
And then─
He kissed you.
You didn't expect it, the truth is that he didn't either. He leaned in enough to break the small distance that existed between you, his lips landed on yours too quickly, a rushed reaction to his wounded pride. But also, it was the opportunity to fulfill the stupid dream he had been having since he saw you enter his building. Every conversation, every afternoon in his office, every compliment, every push, coffee, games with Shock.Wake, everything made him feel stupid by your side. And now, the little sanity he had left had turned to ashes.
It was a short kiss, you realized that. He did too. When he pulled away quickly to realize his mistake, with his cheeks now completely flushed across the screen. He had a failure, the colorful "out of service" bars followed by the beeping and constant grumbling aesthetic pulled you out of your daze.
“Vox?”your voice came out too high-pitched thanks to the sudden fear. “Vox!”
“Shit!” he shouted, with a blink he returned to normal. His eyes took barely a few seconds to assimilate his surroundings, it only took another couple of seconds for him to blush again. “I─”
“That was stupid.”
“Too much.”
“You are my boss.”
“Yes, and I─”
“Can you do it again?”
He blinked. He used all his willpower not to have another short circuit like just a few seconds ago. Your voice was so soft and tender that it was almost impossible not to collapse there. His knees trembled.
Slowly, with more care to memorize everything, from every blink to how you moistened your lips, Vox leaned in. His lips touched yours with less speed and more care, a robotic buzzing filled your ears, similar to the purring of a cat sitting on a computer keyboard─ then you realized it was a sigh of satisfaction. His hand on your hip didn't press more, he maintained his presence cautiously, still like a ghostly touch. His hand holding yours moved to cradle your cheek, you felt a tingling due to his little control at that moment.
His lips tasted like metal, as if you could be surprised, but they were soft, cold, and smooth.It was clear that the only people he kissed must have been his occasional lovers,but you were sure you hadn't seen him with any of them in at least three months,as if he were on a streak of sobriety that he had to maintain. In reality, it was easier than you thought, he had done it all by hanging on, thinking of you.He, the technological demon, an Overlord with all the power of hell in the palm of hishand, reduced to trying not to short-circuit from the sensation of kissing you. Finally.
established relationship, fluff, short, attempt to get out of writer's block
Hitoshi Shinso didn't actually have insomnia. Not like everyone thought.
It wasn’t that Hitoshi didn’t sleep; it was just that his sleeping habits always seemed strange to everyone else. He could fall asleep extremely quickly if he was in a comfortable, quiet place—like the common room on a lucky day—but he could never fall asleep in his bed early in the evening without staring at the ceiling until dawn.
And he didn’t hate naps; he just couldn’t fall asleep if he was training. He was always sleepy at the worst possible times.
That’s why he started feeling sleepy when you invited him to cuddle up.
Hitoshi had been training all day with Aizawa, as usual; strands of indigo hair were plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest was heaving rapidly, and he could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. He was completely exhausted but unable to sit still.
Hitoshi was sitting under a tree, his head tilted back as he caught his breath. In his calloused hands lay his untangled capture weapon, its light yet efficient texture keeping him grounded. Until you arrived. You had that sweet smile on your face, waving at him as you approached with hurried steps and your hands full—a cold bottle of water in one and a packet of crackers in the other.
"Toshi!" You greeted him warmly. A weary smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Hey, honey,” he said in his usual husky voice that always gave you butterflies.
Hitoshi shifted his body to make room for you, spreading his legs and arms. You settled yourself against him, your back against his chest and his legs wrapping around yours. His arms wrapped around your torso; he didn’t bother to take what you were offering him, even with your complaining voice echoing in his ears. His head nestled into the crook of your neck, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes.
No matter how much you wanted to complain that he was sweaty or how much you squirmed to get away from his embrace, Hitoshi’s arms didn’t loosen their grip. You heard a purring murmur in his throat, and for a few moments, you could have sworn he started snoring.
His mind went blank, and any worries he had were swept away the moment he felt your warmth against him. The tension in his shoulders eased; he was almost a different man the way he nestled his face against your shoulder, letting out moans you swore you’d never hear if you moved, and he almost lost you.
They're so warm and comfy… and smell so good. Sweet. Oh ny God, they smell like caramel.
You were his weakness, his everything. You were the only person he trusted enough to doze off in your arms, the person he listened to when he was scolded for neglecting basic care. The way his face would relax comfortably without him even realizing it. He was a hero to you, though not always in a heroic way; more in the way he wanted to hold your hand in a room full of people.
“Toshi─ Toshi, come on, you're not gonna sleep here.” “Huh? Why not?" As soon as he opened his eyes, he tilted his head to make sure he was looking at your face. "Because you're not. Let's go to my room. We'll watch a movie, and you can sleep over in my room." "Hmm," he murmured hoarsely, still making no effort to move but agreeing with you. "yeah."
In your defense, maybe you should have expected it when you invited Percy to your house for the holidays—you knew something would happen.
Your family had gone out for a few hours to buy cookie dough to make gingerbread men, leaving you and Percy alone.
Oh, but could you blame him? The poor man had been holding back terribly ever since he stepped onto the welcome rug and took off his shoes. He had already been in your room, the kitchen, the backyard, and now the couch, where you both were.
This man was starving, as if just a couple of hours without laying a hand on you beyond your knee was lethal for him—having to behave, sitting with his back straight and jaw tight while smiling at your family in a pitiful attempt to disguise the blush that climbed his neck every time you nestled closer to him. You looked dazzling just by smiling, and it was killing him.
He had his hand on your thigh, his nails digging into the flesh and grazing lightly—not wanting to hurt you but channeling all his pent-up desire there. He molded that same leg and ended up pulling it onto his lap, giving him more room to slip between them and lean in to kiss you better. His lips were fire—hot and fleeting, crashing against yours with desperation. He was trying so hard to remain a gentleman, not to drag you fully into his lap and ruin you right then and there.
Only kisses, he told himself, while your ankles locked completely behind his back, your arms around his neck, your hands in his hair, and your body sinking into the soft cushions of the couch—an open invitation for him to hover over you, his free hand braced beside your head to keep from crushing you.
“You taste so— gods, good…” he almost whined, his lips moving from yours to your jaw, fighting with all his strength not to attack your neck and leave it raw, because at any moment your family could walk through that front door.
He couldn’t even remember how it had gotten this far—his brain was mush, filled with nothing but flashes of you. His ears only registered your sounds, his eyes only your figure: every movement, every brush of skin against skin, every expression and caress. The way your hair spilled over the cushions, your pupils dilated, your lips already swelling from his bites. Your outfit was wrinkled; the hem of your shirt rode up to your stomach, your chest heaved with every breath, and you were practically sweating if he focused closely enough on the droplets forming at your temple. He swallowed hard and promised himself to save that image for… later.
I don't share the ideals of some Bucky Barnes fans who say that this man is charming and flirtatious and all that. No. I'm more of the opinion that he's a bitter grump who uses sarcasm as a shield and always has that dangerous look on his face, even though it's really just his default expression because he has no emotions due to all the trauma he's been through. I think people forget that this man is too traumatized and that he is rarely seen being genuinely happy, and when he is genuinely happy, it's with his partner.
I mean, sure, this man has his charm and of course he flirts, but only once they're already a couple. I don't see him flirting in a bar or somewhere public and getting the person's number and then starting to date. No, it really bothers me a lot to read that kind of fanfic. I'm sure this man flirts horribly because of how well-mannered he was back then. It was the 1940s, men did have their charm, but things changed and he just became a little old-fashioned. Which doesn't make him bad, but usually people get turned off.
This man approaches someone, stutters, falls silent, and then has that regretful, disoriented look on his face, that he wouldn't like to be there when all he wants to do is tell the person in front of him that they look pretty.
It's a bit controversial to say that this man is pathetic, because I see him as completely clueless about what to do on a first date. He's probably unsure whether to bring flowers, because he doesn't know if men do that nowadays, or whether to just show up and be rude because some people like partners like that, even though he isn't.
The only time we've seen him openly flirt was with Sam's sister, and if I have to be honest, it doesn't contradict my point of view. He was flirting with her because he was comfortable, and yes, he was charming with her and a little sassy, but the truth is that he was with people he trusted, not strangers. He wouldn't approach a random girl and start flirting with her.
I have nothing against people who write him as a charming, flirtatious, sarcastic character. I'm not saying he isn't, I'm just saying he doesn't go beyond the superficial. I would simply like to see more adaptations where he is softer and more vulnerable.
He has been through so much because of Hydra, and I would like to see more people touching on that softer side of him. He has PTSD. People who suffer from that disorder usually stare at a fixed point, lost in their thoughts. I'd like to think that from time to time, when he has those episodes, he just likes to be alone. And when reality returns, stunned and emotionally down, he just likes to seek out his partner. It's those little details that I'd like to see explored more deeply. Even when they're turned-up-the-heat fanfics. There could be a little more personality, beyond rudeness, flirting, and sexy male charm.
He is smooth; he is charming and polite. He always opens the car door, gives flowers weekly, listens to his partner talk about their day, and always has that puppy-dog look. He has that stupid smirk on his face when he makes a particularly bad joke. He is always flirting with his "'40s charms," as he puts it, when he has nothing else to do. He likes to hold his partner's hand, make them spin around. He always has a hand on their hip or waist. He often leans in to listen when they speak particularly softly. He tilts his head to one side when he doesn't understand. And he always has sleep in his eyes when he wakes up holding his partner. He is very clingy and definitely starved for contact, so he is always cuddling his partner. His favorite place to position them is on his lap because he likes to feel the warmth. So he always sits them on his lap, hugs them around the waist, and rests his head on their shoulder while listening to them talk. He almost always kisses their exposed skin.
