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Summary: Bucky is ready to take the next step in your relationship. Which means buying a ring, and talking to your father, which are almost equally terrifying ventures.
Word Count: 3k
Content: fluff, smut (18+ MDNI) - floor sex, riding, unprotected p in v (don’t do that); nervous bucky, bratty reader
A/N: Presenting part 4 in my mafia!bucky series! I think this dynamic is so fun, so I couldn’t resist one more addition to the story.
The last time Bucky was in a jewelry store, he was robbing it under cover of night. Being here in the daytime, in an official capacity, ready to purchase something feels like wearing someone else’s skin. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the staff to realize that he doesn’t belong here and escort him out.
The sales associate sits across from him, clean and pressed and patiently waiting while Bucky fumbles to pull up the notes he typed up on his phone.
He awkwardly clears his throat. “Uh… three carat, elongated cushion cut, pave setting, thin white gold band. Natural, no lab grown.” He doesn’t know what half the words mean, but he knows they’re important.
The sales associate raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.
“She was very specific,” Bucky adds, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.
“A woman who knows what she wants,” she remarks, typing and clicking away on her computer. “That’s good. We can make that happen. Assembly is four to eight weeks for custom rings. Does that timeline work for you?”
Bucky nods. A month or two will give him the time he needs to figure out how the hell he is even going to ask. Bucky is not a words guy by any means, and he’s a little terrified of saying something stupid or cliche or—
“This is a model of what the ring will look like,” the sales associate says as she turns the monitor towards him, “based on her specifications.”
Every thought in Bucky's head flies out the window. The image on the monitor slowly rotates, showing every sparkling angle. It’s very… you. His chest tightens with some nebulous emotion hovering between adoration and excitement and abject terror.
This is really happening.
“Wow,” he mutters under his breath.
“What do we think? Will this meet her exacting standards?” the associate asks, somewhat playfully.
Bucky finds his voice after a moment, clearing his throat again. “Yeah. Looks good.”
She smiles professionally. “Let me print you out an estimate.” There’s more clacking away at the keyboard, followed by the mechanical complaints of a printer whirring in the air.
The associate slides a piece of paper towards Bucky, tapping different figures with her pen as she speaks. “There is a deposit, that’s the amount you see here. Covers materials and design time.”
Even the number listed for the initial deposit makes Bucky wince internally. Steve had joked a couple weeks back, “You know what they say — three month’s salary or he doesn’t love you!” Bucky doesn’t have a regular salary, but if he did, this would be more than three months.
“When the ring is ready, you can pay the rest in full,” she continues. Perhaps sensing his hesitation, she adds, “Or we have certain financing options available, if you’re interested.”
Bucky straightens up in his chair. He had promised himself that he would handle the ring above board — that way if the fuzz ever came knocking, god forbid, they would have no claim to it in any kind of investigation. Shoes and furs and purses are one thing — perks of the job, but just things at the end of the day. This is more than that.
It’s a symbol of the promises he wants to make. Of his devotion, his protection, of the life he wants to build with you.
When it comes to you, anything less than exactly what you want isn’t good enough, as far as Bucky is concerned. He's got savings. He can pick up more jobs in the next couple months. It'll be a little bit of a stretch, but… it’s doable.
“If all this is all agreeable to you, you can sign there, and we will get you started,” the associate says.
Bucky nods emphatically. “All right. Let's do it.”
It's nearly a perfect evening. Bucky is home for dinner at a reasonable hour, for the first time in at least a week. A glass of wine, an episode of Real Housewives, and a foot rub later, you and Bucky are intertwined on the couch, making out like teenagers. Nothing to worry about but the lazy grind of his hips into yours, and the decadent stroke of your tongue against his.
But then you feel him pull away. You feel it energetically, before he even takes his hands off you.
Your hands grip his shirt, trying in vain to drag him closer. "Don't go,” you murmur against his mouth.
“I gotta work, baby.” He kisses underneath your jaw in apology, then sits up and reaches for his shoes. “Family stuff.”
That earns him a sigh. You kneel behind him on the couch and knead his shoulders, your mouth at the nape of his neck.
“You been workin’ so much lately, I feel like I never see you.” You try not to whine, but it comes out that way anyway.
“There's a lot of irons in the fire right now,” he replies vaguely.
“I miss you.” You say it because it’s true. You miss falling asleep in his arms. You miss his hands, his mouth, his steady demeanor, his teasing exasperation with you. In the last few weeks, it feels like you only ever get pieces of him.
With his shoes on, he stands to face you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. You can see the apology in his eyes, how much he wishes he could stay. “I know, baby,” he mumbles, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “I miss you, too. This is just temporary.”
You can tell he means it, but it doesn’t make you feel better. In a last ditch effort to get your way, you turn on the eyes, begging silently for even twenty more minutes of his attention.
For a moment, you think he just might cave.
“Tell you what.” Bucky takes your hands and coaxes you off the couch to stand. As he speaks, his lips drag across your neck, kisses and nips interspersed between his words. “Tomorrow you’re gonna sleep in, go get your nails done, put on somethin’ pretty, and when I'm done with work, I'll come home and let you put on a show for me.”
Pure manipulation. Nevertheless, you feel a bit like a puppy hearing all your favorite words.
“Promise?” you ask, with a hint of a pout.
“I promise.” His mouth finds yours again for a goodbye, a sweet but fleeting brush.
“Mmm. I love you,” you surrender, releasing him from your hold.
“I love you.” One final press of his lips to your forehead, and he’s headed for the door.
“Be safe,” you call after him, flopping down onto the couch again with a huff.
“Always am,” he calls back, and without the jingle of a set of keys and the click of the door, he’s gone.
“So. You want to marry my daughter.”
Bucky freezes to the spot. “I…”
Your father leans back in his desk chair, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
When Bucky had requested this meeting, he hadn’t thought he’d been quite so obvious about his intentions. But your father is quite the people-reader, and Bucky supposes that this conversation has been expected for some time.
“I, uh… yes, sir,” he stammers.
“I trust you’ve discussed this with her before coming to me. It's the twenty-first century, after all.”
Bucky nods, making a concerted effort not to fidget under your father’s stare. “Yes, sir. She said I didn't need to ask permission. It still seemed like good manners to ask.”
“Good answer.” Your father gestures to the seat on the other side of the desk. “Sit down.”
His uneasiness gradually fading, Bucky follows the order and settles down into the chair.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” your father begins, folding his hands on the desk. “You know I already consider you part of this family. If you marry her, that makes you as good as blood. There’s duty that comes along with that. You sure you’re ready?”
“Positive, sir,” Bucky replies, resolute.
“Then consider my permission granted.” He smiles, somehow fond and terrifying at the same time. Bucky smiles back, relieved and grateful and still so nervous that sweat beads on the back of his neck.
“You buy a ring already?” your father asks.
“I’m working on it.”
He gets to his feet, reaching into his pocket for a wad of cash, large fingers counting out more bills than Bucky is comfortable taking. “Make sure to buy her something classy.”
Bucky starts to protest, “Sir—“
But he won’t hear it, pressing the folded stack of bills into Bucky's palm. “Take it. I want my little girl to have something special.”
It would be bad manners to reject the money after an insistence like that, so Bucky concedes and gingerly slips the cash into his jacket pocket. “Thank you, sir,” he says, quietly but sincerely.
You’re beginning to suspect that something is afoot.
To make up for all Bucky's late nights and long days, he suggests going down to Rockaway Beach on his day off. A little unusual, but not completely out of character. and the weather is warm enough that you think nothing of the idea at first.
But as the day progresses, it becomes all too clear that something’s up.
For one thing, Bucky is suspiciously… twitchy. While you try to relax on the beach, stretched out on a blanket, he fidgets beside you, his shoulders closer to his ears than normal. Every time you crack an eye open to glance at him, he glances away, caught.
That's another thing. Bucky won’t stop looking at you. You feel his eyes clinging to you all day long. It can't be the bikini doing the work, because obviously he’s seen it before. And it's not that kind of attention, either. You can tell the difference in that regard.
He insists on staying for sunset, and the crowds thankfully begin to thin slightly after the four p.m. mark. When he takes your hand and suggests a walk down by the water, the request is so uncharacteristic of him that alarm bells start going off in your brain.
Is this (finally) the moment?
As the sun sinks low in the sky and turns the clouds vibrant oranges and reds, you try to act casual, just in case. You don’t want to hedge your bets and then find out that this is just another date. You don’t want to go home disappointed.
As you walk, his hand squeezes yours to get your attention. You turn to him expectantly, and he makes an effort to meet your eyes, his spine military straight.
“Baby, hold on a minute. I got somethin’ I wanna say to you.”
He pauses as if to gather his thoughts, and you’re positive that this is the moment. Unable to contain your excitement, you blurt out, “Oh my god, I knew it!”
Bucky sighs and scrubs hand over face as the spontaneity of the moment dissipates.
“You went through Natasha, didn’t you? I knew it was weird she wanted to reschedule!” Your mouth is a runaway train, babbling away. “We always get our nails done on Sundays! You thought you were being soooo sneaky—“
“Are you gonna let me say this or not?” he grumbles, his ears turning bright pink.
You settle down and try unsuccessfully to repress a smile. “Go ahead. Let's hear the speech.”
Bucky kneels right there in the sand, and you have to hold yourself back from throwing yourself into his arms. Taking a deep breath, he locks his eyes into yours, nerves and doubts visibly dissolving.
“You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met in my life.”
That catches you so off-guard that you half-snort a laugh, your hand flying to your mouth.
He laughs too, a rich and rumbling sound. “You're spoiled, and hot-headed, and extremely annoying on occasion. And I have been head over heels for you pretty much from the moment we met.”
As he reaches into his pocket, your heart pounds like it’s trying to stage a breakout from your chest. His hand re-emerges, closed around a small box.
“You are compassionate, and fierce, and funny, and you love me better than I ever hoped I was gonna get. And I just wanna hurry up and marry you already.”
The box opens. Nestled inside, a diamond ring straight out of your dreams, that glints in the light of the setting sun. You choke back a gasp, your hand still pressed to your mouth, your eyes sparkling in delight.
“Whaddaya say, princess?” he asks, his smile crooked and sheepish and eager all at once.
Your happiness bubbles over like an overfilled champagne flute, and you exclaim, “Yes! Of course, yes!”
In your excitement, you pull him off his knees and into your arms, your lips crashing messily into his. There’s a smattering of applause and a few distant hoots from the remaining beachgoers in the vicinity, but it all fades to the background when his arms surround you, pulling your body flush against his.
“That —,” you mumble between kisses, “was the most romantic thing — I've ever heard in my life.”
When you pull back far enough to look at him, he’s grinning down at you like you’re a trophy or a winning lottery ticket, giddy with pride.
“And if you ever call me annoying again,” you warn him playfully, “you’re gettin’ slapped upside the head.”
He rolls his eyes and gives you a squeeze before releasing you. “Just put on the ring.”
You bounce on the balls of your feet as Bucky frees the ring from the velvet box and slips it onto your finger. The glint of the stone almost blinds you with its beauty.
“Bucky…” you whisper, momentarily speechless.
“Did I do all right?” he asks, though the satisfaction in his expression says he already knows the answer.
“You did. It's beautiful.” As you spend a moment admiring the boulder on your hand, Bucky leans in to kiss your cheek, victorious.
He looks so incandescently happy that you can’t resist teasing him one more time. “Are you sure this is three carat?” you muse aloud, raising a discerning eyebrow. “It looks more like two-point-five…”
That earns you another squeeze, and a temporary loss of gravity as Bucky lifts you off your feet. “You are such a brat,” he growls through your breathless giggles.
“I love it,” you concede. “I love you.” Your legs hook around his waist, and you kiss him again — longer, deeper, verging on a little too intimate for a public setting. “You are getting the ride of your life when we get home.”
Bucky sets you down with a smirk.
“Promise?”
You don’t make it to the bed. You don’t make it to the couch, either. The two of you barely make it past the front door. As soon as it shuts behind you, you’re kissing him and tugging at his clothes, taking him down to the floor in your urgency.
As you grind down on the already hard length of his cock, your hands on his chiseled chest, you can’t help but admire the glint of your ring on your hand, set against his tan skin.
You kiss him, deep and filthy and totally in love. Your fiancé. You love that you get to call him that now.
Peeling off your coverup and pulling the gusset of your bikini bottoms to the side, you shift to fit him at your entrance and purr, “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.” Bucky grips your hips, his eyes dark and his grin sinfully crooked. “So fuckin’ much.”
You moan softly as you sink down onto him, already wound up halfway to heaven. Once you’re fully seated on his cock, you take a beat to adjust and then move, riding him at a steady pace.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he mutters, already shifting his hips up pn every stroke to meet you. “My pretty girl. My fuckin’ wife.”
A sound escapes you that’s half-giggle, half-moan. “Not yet.”
“Details.” He groans and pulls you close before rolling over and trapping you beneath him, picking up your rhythm exactly where you left off.
“Gonna give you everything you want.” His voice is wrecked, his thrusts sloppy and deep. “Gonna give you the whole damn world, princess. You name it, it’s yours.”
“Bucky,” you whine and arch into him, your climax already fast approaching listening to your fiancé talk about the future. Your future, together.
“Baby, I'm close,” he rasps. With one arm braced by your head, Bucky reaches his other hand between your bodies to find your clit.
The first contact steals your breath, each little circle against the bundle of nerves sending you careening towards the edge. “Inside,” you beg breathlessly. “Wanna feel all of you.”
Bucky curses, rutting messily into you, just managing to hold out until your pleasure crests before he loses control. Warmth coats your insides as you feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, as your cunt clenches almost gratefully to take every drop of him.
The two of you stay on the floor, wrapped around each other, the hardwood gradually cooling down your sweaty, overheated bodies. Bucky doesn’t even bother to pull out yet, just nuzzles into your neck and mutters in a blissed out voice,
summary: thinking sylus is in danger, you track him down to the docks of the n109 zone, and what you find is that he's not the one in peril, not by a long-shot
pairing: sylus x reader
rating: mature 🔞 (please mind the tags!! ⚠️)
word count: 1.4k
tags: gn!reader, onychinus!sylus, reader is a hunter, depictions of graphic violence and torture, mentions of trafficking, use of pet names (kitten), fade to black
note: also available in my love & drabble-space collection on ao3
Gurgling screams roll over the docks like waves. Ping against the steel maze of shipping containers. Midnight has come and gone, leaving the sky dark as pitch— Sylus’s preferred working conditions.
This is the place, all right.
You adjust your grip on your gun, keeping it lowered, and take slow, careful steps toward the epicenter of the action, toward Sylus— you hope. He told you to meet him at the base, but the coldness in his voice had unnerved you, and as soon as he’d ended the call, you tracked his location and wound up here, at the waterside. Had a deal gone sideways?
Your Hunter’s watch buzzes, and you scramble to mute all incoming notifications. The last thing you need is an APB alarm giving away your presence.
One by one, the voices cut out until silence blankets the area, thick and final. Whatever trouble Sylus encountered, he seems to have dealt with it.
But in the N109 Zone, it never hurts to lead with caution, so, exhaling quietly, you peek around the corner of a moss-green container. You’re greeted by a bloodless, grotesque scene. Four stacks of cargo containers form a square ring— or rather, a kill box. Well over a dozen bodies lie crumpled and motionless on the pavement, limbs bent at unnatural angles, chests neither rising nor falling. All of them kitted out in tactical gear. All of them dispatched before they even had a chance to unsling their rifles.
Sylus stands with his back to you, charcoal-grey suit cutting a severe silhouette, and in front of him are three men knelt in a neat row and bound up in crimson shadows. He lazily approaches the one on the left. “Here is my offer,” he starts, calm as a lake on a windless morning.
But before he can finish, the man scowls and spits at his feet.
Sylus sighs, disappointed. “Have it your way,” he says.
Red mist rushes toward the man’s head, obscuring it entirely as it whirls around and around like water in a snow globe. Noiselessly, the man’s body spasms, then stills, then keels over. Headless.
You gasp and nearly drop your gun.
Of course, you’ve heard the rumors about how ruthless the Leader of Onychinus can be. Tales of his brutality haunt the bars and back alleys in the N109 Zone— hushed warnings to do whatever it takes to avoid his wrath. But, apart from your first meeting, you’ve never seen him mete out a punishment like this firsthand. Not until tonight.
Part of you is horrified. Part of you is thrilled. What have these people done to earn his ire? That he would choose to come here in person rather than send someone to do it for him?
You decide to stay where you are, tucked in darkness, shielded by corrugated steel.
Sylus slides his hands into his pockets and turns his attention to the remaining two men, one bald, one blond. They go from kneeling to suspended in midair, arms and legs drawn taut in an X-shape. “Let’s try this again,” he says.
The men futilely strain against Sylus’s Evol, hips jerking, muffled grunts spilling past their lips. The bald one tries to bark out an order—a scathing “Keep your fucking mouth shut”—but Sylus gags him mid-word.
“Which vessel were you sent to intercept?” Sylus asks, sounding almost bored. “First one to talk gets to keep all their limbs.”
They glare— at Sylus, at each other, at the sky.
Twin masses of shadow materialize on either side of Sylus’s head. “Some additional incentive, perhaps.”
Both shadows spear toward the men’s torsos, burrowing through their protective vests and flesh alike. Blood drips, then pours onto the ground below, and the men wail, helpless as Sylus’s Evol rips them apart from the inside out.
In a matter of seconds, the blond yields. “C-Con-cord,” he chokes out, and Sylus recalls his shadows. The man’s head droops forward, relief loosening his tongue further. “The ship is called the Concord.”
The bald one groans. “Melchor is gonna fucking k—” The rest of his curse is lost to a scream as the man’s right arm is torn off at the shoulder, a spray of red gushing messily onto the pavement.
Melchor. You know that name. He’s the kingpin in a trafficking ring the Association has been investigating for going on two years. Protocores. Organs.
Children.
A furious chill runs down your spine, and you suddenly wish Sylus hadn’t backed off. These ghouls don’t deserve so much as an ounce of mercy.
Hands still casually tucked in his pockets, Sylus flings the man’s arm aside and cauterizes the wound with a cloud of mist. It must hurt because the man screams even louder. Good. He should suffer.
“Next question,” Sylus says in that same unbothered cadence. “What are the container IDs?”
“I— I don’t know,” the blond stammers, eyes wide with terror as he steals glances at his dismembered comrade. “I swear—”
Sylus sends a volley of energy-darts into his joints, and another scream cleaves the air. “The IDs,” Sylus presses.
The bald one has mostly fallen still and silent, but the blond trembles, manic, an animal caught in a trap. “I don’t fucking know! They didn’t— I never— Blue!” he finally blurts out, and the energy-darts dissipate. “The containers are blue,” the man clarifies, breathing heavily. “With white stars painted on the side.”
Sylus hums his displeasure.
“Please.” The man slumps as much as his restraints will allow. “That’s all… all I know—”
“Your cooperation has been much appreciated,” Sylus mutters, interrupting him, and then a burst of his Evol snaps both of their necks.
Before the corpses even hit the ground, Sylus is pulling up his holo-pad and relaying what he learned over comms. “Ship is the Concord,” he says. “Containers are blue with white stars.” A pause as the person—or perhaps mechanical crow—on the other end of the line responds. “No, put the twins on it. And make sure they bring blankets and water.”
Wind skips through the shipping yard, buffeting your back, and Sylus’s Evol sparks up again. Spreads like fog. Scarlet embers lick at the carnage, methodically devouring bodies and weapons and everything else that could serve as evidence.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he intones, turning to face you, and you startle. A thin streak of blood slices across his jaw.
Your stomach clenches in a familiar way. Oh, this is so not the time. “I…”
Sylus hooks his thumbs in his pockets. Unhurriedly stalks toward you. “You?” he prompts, chin tucked and brows raised.
But fuck if he doesn’t look good, cloaked in shadow like an avenging angel, Evol scouring away the ugliness at his back. “I was worried about you,” you say.
“Worried?” Sylus echoes, finally reaching you. Long, dexterous fingers brush across your dominant hand—the one still holding a gun—and he helps you holster your sidearm. “Whatever for?”
Heat swirls low in your gut. Blooms up your neck. He smells of peat smoke and old coins, the thrum of his power still simmering close to his skin in a way that’s making you lightheaded. “On the phone…” You’re not sure how to round out your excuse.
He smirks. “You mean when I asked you to meet me at the base?”
You pull your lower lip between your teeth and glance at the ground.
Sylus hums. “You were so bold coming here. Don’t be shy now.” He skims a knuckle beneath your chin in a silent request, and you obey, lifting your gaze to his. “How much did you see?”
Decapitation. Torture. Dismemberment. “Enough,” you finally say.
His brows knit together, the makings of a frown weighing down his expression. “Did I frighten you?” he asks, soft and earnest and uncharacteristically fragile.
You recall the absolute authority he’d wielded, every chess piece on the board his to move or destroy as he pleased, and a traitorous flash of want sparks between your thighs. “Not… exactly,” you mutter.
His features scrunch in intrigue. “Oh?” he says and glides a hand over your hip. Then his right eye flares that crisp, alluring shade of red, and another wave of desire washes over you. “Did a curious little kitten enjoy watching me work?”
Yes.
No.
Your pulse flutters under the unwavering inquest of his gaze. Maybe just a bit. Maybe too much. Flustered, you look away— give yourself a fighting chance to resist him. “I’ll meet you at the base—”
He smoothly blocks your escape and crowds you against the container. “Mmm, not so fast.” Cool steel bites into your shoulder blades as his fingers toy with the waistband of your trousers. “It seems I have one more matter to attend to.”
*throws this at you gently and runs* Hey, I was reading your works and absolutely love the whole nest concept! What about Sebastian having an s/o who is seeing the nest for the first time, and is just like, “yes. Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect.” Sensory wise, absolutely loves it and will start running their hands over the different textures. Also helps add to his nest, as s/o has also built some. :D
✿ Sebastian leads you to your shared bedroom with a rare air of nervous excitement beneath his calm butler exterior. He opens the heavy oak doors not to the usual bed, but to the new sanctuary. In front of the fireplace, sunken slightly into the floor or built upon a raised dais, is a massive, circular expanse. It isn't just a mattress; it is a landscape of cushions, black fox furs, crushed velvet, and duvet mountains.
✿ When you gasp, drop your hands to your sides, and whisper, "Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect..." Sebastian practically glows and his cheeks flush red a bit. He bows deeply, his hand over his heart, but his eyes remain fixed on you, burning with pride. "I am merely...anticipating requirements" He says smoothly. "A standard bed seemed insufficient for the level of worship I intend to provide from now on"
✿ You don't just look, you dive in. To Sebastian, watching you explore the textures is an erotic experience in itself. You immediately crawl onto the bed. You run your hands over the materials he sourced from across the world (and potentially the hell too). You slide your cheek against the cool, slippery sheets. You bury your fingers deep into the heavy, thick fur throws. You squeeze the plush pillows and blankets.
✿ He narrates the textures as you touch them. "That" He points to the fur you are petting, "Is from the winter wolves of the northern peaks. It retains heat indefinitely. And that silk...spun by spiders not of this earth. It will never tear, no matter how hard you grip it"
✿ You bury your face in the center pile. It smells of him, spice, earl gray tea, night air, and that distinct, dark clean demon scent of his. It is overwhelming in the best way.p To a demon, a nest for his mate and himself usually it's personal. Allowing you to add to it is the ultimate sign of shared territory. You run to fetch your favorite, perhaps tattered or worn-out fleece blanket, or a specific squishy pillow that doesn't match his goth-luxe aesthetic at all.
✿ A normal perfectionist might sneer at the clash. Sebastian? He looks at you placing your old blanket in the center of his masterpiece, and he softens completely. "An essential addition" He agrees gravely, tucking your blanket in among the expensive furs. "It carries your scent. It anchors our arrangement"
✿ If you bring plushies, he arranges them like royal guards around the perimeter. He respects the stuffed animals because you love them. You are so excited by the sensory bliss that you pull him down with you. You insist he lie down so you can test the 'spooning logistics'. "Does it fit?" You ask, wrapping your leg over his. "Perfectly my love" He purrs, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the pillow you just fluffed. "I calculated the density of the down to support our combined weight perfectly"
✿ You are so happy with the softness that you might instinctively start kneading the blankets like a cat. Sebastian catches your hand, kissing the fingertips. "Careful" He teases. "Or I shall mistake you for a kitten and carry you around by the scruff of your neck" The nest becomes the heart of your home. It represents his desire to keep you soft, safe, and enveloped, and your delight in it confirms to him that he has succeeded in his primary mission, building you a heaven on earth. "I am glad you approve" He whispers, pulling the heavy furr, sensory-rich covers over your heads to seal you both in. "Because I have no intention of letting you leave this circle for the next twelve hours" Naturally after a while the cozy atmosphere turns to intimacy, turning the nest into a playground of softness and delightful sin.
✿ The nest is designed to be deep. When Sebastian climbs on top of you, his heavy weight presses you down into the layers of velvet and furs. You sink inches deep. It feels like you are being swallowed by the nest, unable to move sideways or escape. You are effectively molded into the mattress, while he hovers above you, a solid wall of heat. "Sinking?" He teases, pushing you deeper as he enters you. "Good. I need you to hold you still, you must be embedded in this spot"
✿ He loves watching you writhe against the different materials. When he eats you out, he watches your hands clutching the long-hair furs. He loves seeing your fingers knotting into the black pelt in pleasure. When he takes you from behind, your face is pressed into cool velvet or silk. He whispers, "Let your breasts rub against it. Feel the luxury against your nipples while I thrust inside you"
✿ The contrast between his hot, smooth skin sliding against yours and the ticklish graze of the furs on your sensitive areas (nipples, inner thighs, pussy, rear) adds a layer of static electricity to the sex. The sheer volume of pillows and blankets acts as incredible soundproofing. He encourages you to be loud. If you scream his name or cry out from a squirt, the sound is absorbed by the plush surroundings and the curtains (if he has drape them down), creating a private, muted echo chamber. He loves burying your face in one of the giant pillows while he takes you deep. "Scream into it" He growls, pressing down on your lower back.
✿ That tattered fleece blanket you added? He makes a point to lay you on that specific one for your first session in the nest. He wants your scent (and your fluids) on the fabrics. When you squirt, soaking the expensive furs, he doesn't clean it up instantly with demon magic. He lets the scent settle. "Now..." He purrs, sniffing the damp fur near your head, "The nest finally smells like both of us, my favorite fragrance in all realms"
✿ Because the nest is circular and large, there are no edges to hang off. You are adrift in a sea of bed. He uses this to his advantage. He creates a cage with his body, arms on either side of you. No matter which way you roll, you just hit more softness or him. He loves rolling you. He’ll kiss you, roll you on top, then roll you back under, tumbling through the endless blankets in a playful, wrestling foreplay.
✿ Under the heavy furs, body heat gets trapped fast. It turns into a sauna. Sebastian becomes obsessed with licking the sweat off your skin. He licks your neck, your under-boob, your stomach, everywhere his velvet soft tongue can reach. "You are glistening my darling mate" He murmurs, lapping at the sheen on your chest. "Cooked to perfection in our little oven" He chuckles to his own joke and gives your sensitive nipple at playful lick, watching it harden instantly before he gives it a loving wet open mouthed kiss.
✿ The circular shape allows him to access you from any angle without awkward positioning. He can spin your body around effortlessly, especially in this nest. He loves positioning you so you are able to watch the fire flames dancing in the fireplace while he is down at your thighs, worshipping your pussy. He loves propping your hips up on multiple pillows, elevating you so your bald pink center is displayed like a jewel on a cushion, perfectly lit by the fireplace.
Here is a spicy little scenario for you all to enjoy
It is late. You are buried in the nest, hugging the blanket you brought. Sebastian crawls in. He lifts the heavy duvet, creating a dark, warm tent. He crawls under the covers, leaving you in the dark. He puts his hands on your thighs. "Found you~" His voice rumbles from the darkness between your legs.
He eats you out in the pitch black, humid space under the blanket. The sensory deprivation (sight) combined with the intense sensory input, the softness of the nest below, the weight of the blanket above, and his mouth on you is overwhelming. When you climax, squirting into the darkness, you can hear his satisfied swallow and feel the wet heat of his face nuzzling your thighs.
He emerges from the blankets, hair messy, looking exceptionally pleased. He pulls you into his arms. "I approve of your additions" He whispers, kissing the top of your head as you catch your breath. "The extra pillows were...strategic. However, do not let your guard down just yet my little one, I have a lot more of positions and techniques I can give you pleasure with until it will be time for you to rest. So brace yourself" He whispers the last three words lovingly before making you take a seat on his lap and pull you in a deep kiss, stealing your breath once more.
A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)
Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.
In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright.
My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.
Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.
It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.
This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.
Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.
All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.
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a/n: this lil treat is based around the reader/zhongli pair from my fic Dragonfly! (feel free to click through and give it a read hehe) you don't need to read the original material per se, but if you have, then enjoy the immortal couple going to lantern rite together for the first-time! c:
Happy Lantern Rite!
it had been a while since you had migrated from your sealed-off home in the middle of nowhere liyue into the busy liyue harbor at the insistence of zhongli (and shockingly enough xiao). according to both of them, you had spent the last few hundred years stuck in immorality and all alone; you had spent enough time in solitude. now, with your life being revealed to those who mattered to you, it was time to move forward again.
in truth, even with your experience dealing with all sorts of folks from your lifetimes, the move to the harbor was awkward. people would see you practically sticking to zhongli simply because you knew no one else and they would start conversations based soley on the fact that you must be someone he knew. he was much more popular and well-known than you suspected since he was just a mortal man now. it seems his knowledge and need to make things known when they could possibly be told in injustice worked in building his reputation.
the addition of hu tao in your small, new social circle was a burst of energy you had forgotten people had as well. her go-go-go attitude about work and seeming lack of fatigue was almost awe-inspiring. the fact that she was the boss of your archon-turned-mortal lover was just as entertaining; witnessing him try to reign her in as respectfully as possible and sigh heavily when she would flit out of his sight was a pleasantry. it made him feel more well-rounded as a person and not just the age-old archon you had known.
now, it had been about a month.
zhongli had invited you to stay with him since he was absolutely unwilling to let you get too far from him after believing you were dead for so long. he was a collectively calm man with control of his emotions, but any sane person would feel the smallest bit of clinginess- for lack of better terms- in this scenario. perhaps it was his innate instincts kicking in that he usually suppressed; the ones that made him bare his fangs or hiss at intruders on his territory... who could say?
as you sat at the open window of his home up on the second floor, you enjoyed the bustle of noises floating from the harbor and the breeze that greeted you at this height. your night clothes were wrinkled from your night of rest and your hair had only been haphazardly combed back with your fingers. the warm cup of tea in your hand had been brewed just before you took your seat at the window.
even after a month of this, you still couldn't understand how you forgot how peaceful mornings could be when they weren't steeped in lonesome melancholy.
small pads of footsteps invaded your senses and overtook the sound of the harbor before the door to the small tea room opened with a slight creak. one thing you always had zhongli beat at is being able to wake up before him.
his bare feet carry him further into the room before coming to your side and leaning down to kiss the top of your bedhead. the robe he wears slides down his exposed shoulder when he leans and his loose hair brushes against your cheek. his hand cups behind your back and slightly rubs against your shoulders in a warm, welcoming motion before his amber eyes glow in the morning sun mirthfully.
"good morning, my dear." his hand keeps rubbing your back and moves to press into your spine that is still sore from the stillness of sleep. "may i be so bold as to ask to join you?" he always asks the same question as if you'll ever tell him no. you have no doubt he does in simple jest now.
"you may, since i'm feeling generous." with a small chuckle, zhongli shifts his body to sit across from you at the tea table before pouring himself some of your brewed tea.
sitting in the orange morning sun, the veins of gold that run across his body look like rivers flowing on calm land.
"shouldn't you cover up? someone down there could see you," you tease as you take a sip of your cooling tea.
"there's no need," he sips his own steaming cup fresh from the pot. "we're far too high for anyone to take notice of my appearance properly." even if someone did notice his less-than-human traits running over his exposed skin, he'd just blame it on the sun- just a trick of the light.
the mornings were often like this. soft and quiet and slow before he knows he's needed at the funeral parlor and you would soon be needed at your own job. that was one other thing you were insistent on when moving to the harbor with him.
you didn't want to mooch off his paycheck and his home and his space forever, so you were quick to find a job anywhere you could. zhongli wishes you wouldn't have since he strongly thought that you deserved to live lazily and carefree- if not forever then at least for a while longer. still, when you didn't budge on your decision, he was quick to relent as he always was.
you had decided to go with a smaller-scale job and work alongside ying'er and her perfumes at the scent of spring. she was quite the character and when you told zhongli about your prospects of working with her- his slight flash of concern didn't go unnoted. 'she is simply a very... open person,' he had told you. the flirtatious way she often spoke to others was clearly what he was referring to when you got to know her more.
still, you had your pick and decided to stay. odd though she can act, she was a good person and offered you decent pay at easy hours. compared to running around preforming errands along with rites of partings like zhongli and hu tao- this was a pretty safe gig.
you stood outside the perfume shop with zhongli as he was about to start on his way to the funeral parlor. he always insisted on walking you to and from work- the one evening you made it home before he could pick you up was the first time you had ever seen his eyebrows droop in what you would dare to call a pout!
that miniscule pout now dared to tug on his expression this morning too. lantern rite was tonight and when the sun would begin to drop, he would be preoccupied with other tasks and mingling with friends from past and present- he was afraid the social traffic would prevent him from offering you his arm. you had no problem with the circumstances since the shop would be closing early today for lantern rite in the first place. you just told him you'd meet him at the docks before it starts.
it was mostly true; you hadn't found him in time when the lanterns were to be lifted and you instead stood among the crowd of strangers while gaming had performed his wushou dance among the calm waves of the harbor. still, you felt full watching all the festivities firsthand like this- the fulfillment filled you with such warmth. your vantage point atop the long stairs that leads down to the crowded docks gives you a sense of being on top of the world. it felt silly, but so very comforting.
"oh, y/n!" you turn your head to see the traveler and paimon coming your way, paimon waving her arm enthusiastically in the air. she then proceeds to float around you in awe of your attire. "wow! you look so pretty!" her cheeks tint as you feel yourself become the smallest bit bashful.
"well, it's my first lantern rite. i thought i should dress up a little for the occasion." wearing a styled hanfu of soft colors that easily complemented zhongli's color scheme, you picked up the skirt before letting it flutter back around your legs.
this was another reason you were okay with zhongli not being able to escort you. while it would've been wonderful to be with him the whole event, the idea of this small surprise of you all gussied up made your cheeks warm.
"you smell good too," paimon's comment made you burst out a small laugh since it was so unprompted. you clear your throat as she cups he chin with her finger. "why does your perfume smell so familiar?"
"it was a gift from ying'er. she told me it would 'suit my tastes', i suppose."
"ying'er," paimon's brows crunch in intense thought before the traveler placed their arms on their hips.
"remember the rite of parting for rex lapis, paimon?" paimon snaps her fingers and points at the blond.
"that's it!" she turned back to you to explain. "during the rite of parting, we offered perfumes up to rex lapis! this is the one that seemed to really resonate with the statue of seven. what was it- uh, something, something dusk... mist..? agh! paimon can't remember clearly." you chuckle at her.
"it's called golden house maiden. according to ying'er it's favored by the more mature crowd. the gentle scent makes it easier on me to wear since anything too strong really isn't my thing." looking at your wrist where you sprayed a small portion of it on your skin before applying it to your throat and neck, you feel yourself get hot all over again knowing it was favored by rex lapis. "anyway, are you two going to enjoy the event?"
"mmhnn!" paimon hums. "we just got back from visiting xiao, so now paimon's going to eat all sorts of delicious food!"
you shoot the traveler a sly grin before they were clearing their throat and looking away from you. oh, young love- how precious.
"so, where's zhongli anyway? normally he's hovering around you like a fly when you're not working!"
"he isn't that bad," you chuckle. "i'm meeting him in a bit. i was actually on my way down. if you'd like we can walk together?"
"sure!" paimon agrees while the traveler nods and soon you're all walking down the stairs to the warmly lit lanterns and the decorative float of one of the past yakshas. with you walking in front of the two travel companions, they both opened their mouths in silently 'ooo's at the sight of your hair all done up with a single hair stick- one they're familiar with. "they're so cute," paimon whispers to the traveler who easily agrees.
before too long, you're greeted by the bustling partygoers of lantern rite and was even offered a small lantern charm that you happily except from a passing sales pitcher.
"oh!" paimon pipes up before pointing through the crowd. "there he is!" she spots zhongli with hu tao nearby a table of small tea cups. he mentioned that he often watched the fireworks with her during events such as these. "zhongli!" paimon called, parting the crowd while you and the blond followed behind.
zhongli was glad he wasn't holding a teacup or standing up when you finally graced him with your presence. if he had, he knows he would've dropped the cup or lost his footing.
he stared at you in a daze when you offered a kind greeting to hu tao who was fussing over how pretty you looked just as much as paimon did. as if your looks weren't enough, the scent of your perfume wafted into his sense and if he were any less of a man he would've grabbed your wrist and dragged you off by now. the god of old was thankful the night was dark and light dim so no one could notice his blown wide pupils that took you in. when you finally look at him, he swallows hard.
"sorry for keeping you waiting so long. i know i said i'd be here before the event started, but i got a bit time blind... ironically enough." zhongli stood from his spot at the round table and found his voice.
"it was no trouble at all." his eyes catch sight of your hair and gently brings his hand up to cup around the dangling jewels hanging off the wings of your dragonfly hair stick. "it was clearly very much worth the wait."
"aiya, you two love birds sure are something else," hu tao sighs dreamily at you. she was no hopeless romantic or anything, but seeing zhongli so smitten was something was quite the sight to behold. "go! enjoy the festivities and relax!" her soft voice was encouraging as she pushes zhongli's back to get him moving.
zhongli offers you his arm, which you take before showing him your small little lantern charm you received while you both walked off together. the party of three you were leaving behind of hu tao, paimon and the traveler all smiled at your backs.
"they make a good couple," traveler says. the other two agree with no argument.
and although it's a little late, zhongli takes you out to the statue of seven just outside of the harbor and releases a lantern with you in solitude. while you watched it float into the air far behind its other lantern brethren, zhongli was latched onto your back, hands on your hips and his face in your neck.
this perfume really was favored by rex lapis after all.
Zero's Fic Binding - don't it beat a slow dance to death
don't it beat a slow dance to death by solitarydreaming
Fandom: Raven Cycle [by Maggie Siefvater]
Ship: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Start Date: 12/23/2024
End Date: 02/18/2025
Pages: 230
Okay, so, this fic? This book is like the show Russian doll. Or Happy Death Day. The best kind of groundhogs day time loop fic, where the death resets the day over and over again. And after each loop, Adam and Ronan slowly start to…glitch. And slide. And fall out of time itself.
This fic is, perhaps, my favorite version of this trope. I grabbed on to that hiccupping, time-stutter idea and pressed it into a digital form - a glitching, fizzy, warping version of a stuttering iPod.
The typeset for this bind progressively
gets more
and more
glitched.
The headers, the fonts, the page breaks, the addition of texture and visual noise into the pages - ramps up through the typeset. I love it. I think it's fucking crazy and I love it so much.
This is the first time I tired to print a cover. It….went. It happened. It looks pretty ok, but this is not how I'm going to ever print out a cover image ever again. I do like this laminate, so I'll probably use that again with a different type of paper. But I can check off the 'try a new cover material' off my Resolution list for this year.
And, like - it's pretty crisp. The image looks pretty good, the color is nice - it's fucking weird and I love it. The spine being simple and so widely different is also a fucking vibe. I'm fucking grooving on this theme dudes, I don't know what else to day.
I used a multi-colored thread for the headband, so it is also changing and random in color.
Another first.........…..I fucking put the text block in upside-down.
My first time screwing up a book like this, so I'm giving myself a pass, but also…this kind of works for this book? You have to read it backwards to get to the front cover. It fits, and I'm only a little mad about it?
This fic is worth the read, even if you're not in this fandom. If you are in this fandom and you haven't read this fic yet? Ya - your welcome.
So you want to get started with scrapbooking/junk journaling? This is a craft, like many others, that you can get started on with very little supplies! However, we'll get a little deeper into stuff as well for some additional tips and supplies that might be fun or helpful.
What You Absolutely Need
Scissors / Cutting Implements - If you can, buy a nicer pair of scissors for your own sanity, but any scissors will do starting out! Detail scissors specifically are really helpful. Exacto knives can also be helpful, but you'll also need a cutting mat if you don't already have one. This category is worth investing in because dull scissors are a nightmare.
Adhesive - ZipDry is designed for paper so it doesn't bleed through thin stuff and it dries quick and clear. Double sided tape rolls are also very helpful, especially with large areas or gluing a bunch of stuff quickly. This is an area worth investing in earlier! Thin paper and magazine paper will have bleed through with certain glues.
Notebook/Paper - Use what you have! If you, like me, have a million journals lying around, use that! As you get deeper in, you might find it helpful to specifically look for notebooks that lie flat when opened. You can also use sheets of art paper if you want to go more independent collage style rather than journaling. Watercolor paper/notebooks are nice because they are thicker, but you can use whatever.
Materials to Actually Cut/Glue/Use - Okay, here's where you really can do whatever you want forever and spend as little or as much as you want. You can cut up books and magazines you have on hand. If you have a printer, you can print stuff out! People sell really amazing curated mixed packs of materials (you can support some great shops on etsy doing very cool and niche stuff! If you are really on a budget, amazon sells some bulk packs as well).
Material Tip
If you don't have a husband that works in a mailroom (we are very lucky) and you don't have a lot of magazines on hand, try going to your local post office and dig through the recycling bin! A lot of people will throw out magazines/ads/catalogues there and you might find some gems. You can also get a free trial for some magazines and just cancel once they want to charge you money. Nic finds Vogue and GQ helpful for people. National Geographic can be helpful for backgrounds and animals.
Leveling up details below the cut!
Level Up
Slide Cutter - Make sure you get one with a replaceable blade! Super helpful for bulk cutting out big shapes.
"Okay, but I see people online with fancy stuff and I want to get in on that action!" you may say. Here is some fun stuff to play with!
If you see someone whose junk journaling content you like, you can also just reach out to them! A lot of people are happy to share links to the stuff they use and a lot of junk journalers online run their own shops/have affiliate links to the stuff they use!
Fun Junk Journaling Variety Packs - truly this is where a lot of people spend a lot of money because you can buy all sorts of fun niche packs depending on the vibe/focus you want to go with. You can also buy packs of quotes / letters / sayings. This can be helpful especially when doing character focused stuff. My wife really likes the packs from PengellyCrafts on etsy.
Washi Tape - People really like using washi tape, especially the transparent ones. These can be surprisingly expensive.
Transparent Stickers - These are fun because you can get a lot of detail and layering without intricate cutting. If you are careful with detail cutting you can cut the white border on normal stickers if you can't swing transparent ones.
Stamps - Like transparent stickers, this can add fun depth and layering, though with perhaps slightly less detail. The best part about stamps is that they are infinitely reusable and you can get all sorts of stamp pads. The downside is they are surprisingly expensive. You can even get stamps that help you make backgrounds like stars or wood texture. There are also "container" stamps like jars and bottles that you can put stuff in!
Embossing Powder - You can pair stamps with a glue stamp pad (or get glue markers) to use with embossing powder and a heat gun to create embossed details that add depth and texture. Make sure you are careful about what order you do things in when using heat!
Distress Ink (or Distress Oxide) & Blender/Diffuser - Make things look aged! This is a stamp pad you can use to make any paper or image look older than it is. Make sure you also get the little foam blender they also sell for application since it'll go on too thick if you try to use it directly on the paper.
Wax & Wax Seals - Wax can be fun to play with because it is both an adhesive and also adds dimension. Note: a lot of embossing or wax in a journal can make it hard to close a notebook.
Old Books - You can buy used books or use books that you don't want anymore for backgrounds to cut out words. Things like recipe books and encyclopedias can be especially helpful/vibe-y.
Fun Edges / Frames - You can get scrapbooking scissors or edge punches to add fun details and shapes to paper edge. It just depends on whether you like that look! Something like a simple round edge punch can be helpful.
Have Fun With It
Do you do other crafts, like painting or cricut? You can pair so many different crafts with junk journaling to make a cool multi-media piece. The most important thing to remember is to use what you have and have fun with it! Don't put off starting because you want all the bells and whistles or think you have to spend a bunch of money like the people who create junk journaling internet content! Create joyfully and lean into the chaos.
Please let us know if this guide was helpful and if you'd like a more specific buy list or tutorials on anything! We are here to help make crafting more accessible <3 You got this! Go junk journal!
If you want to see Nic's junk journaling, we are going to queue some in the next few days. Check our pinned post to find our junk journaling tag for inspiration!
