#I think I'm getting closer to how I imagine him

[flowersforbucky]

okay i have been soooo behind on my to be read fics lately and i'm so sorry 😭 i'm so glad to finally read this. it was incredibly beautiful and unique. i really enjoy your portrayal of how bucky would be in the earliest days of his recovery. i feel like i see so many fics (and don't get me wrong, those fics are great too) where he's portrayed as bucky with hints to his trauma here and there, but very rarely do i see a portrayal like this, where he's still very much in the mindset of soldat with hints of bucky sprinkled in.

more under the cut!

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

i actually love tony as a character so much lol i feel like you wrote his dialogue spot on

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

i love how reader is gentle but still direct with him because i think that's what he would need in this case. he's so used to being told what to do, i can imagine that it's more natural for him to obey a command, but the gentleness she possesses is what he deserves after never being shown that with any handler.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel.

i love how much thought you put into what his habits would be post winter soldier. i have no doubt that you're right - i'm sure he got very little time, if any, for self care. it would definitely take him a lot of time to realize that it's okay to take longer showers and take extra time with caring for yourself.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold."

tomato soup and grilled cheese is always a good choice <3

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

ahhhh the kind of care he deserves. these are the kind of things that make me think bucky's love language would be acts of service 💕

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

AHHHH the possessiveness!!! god!!! please!!! maybe i am a tiny tiny bit fucked in the head but the thought of him being possessive over me in any state makes me so 🫠🤭🙃

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

maybe i am just delulu but i really do believe my tits could have that effect on him so thank you so much for putting my delusion into perfect words and indulging me <3

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own.

YES I AM YOURS YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN!!!

ugh you never fail to amaze me with the love and care that you put into this character.

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

warnings: Suggestive 18+ MDNI & Fluff | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Brief mentions of PTSD | Brief talk of HYDRA | Heavy petting | Love biting/hickeys

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there��s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[1425fivefive]

If you’re still doing the kink prompts, the idea of landoscar selfcest/clones has me like 🫠😵‍💫🥵

this accidentally turned into something romantic and tender and maybe not even kinky. but i like it so i'm posting it (for the kink prompt asks)

“He wants you,” Oscar—other Oscar—murmurs in Lando’s ear. “Just can’t admit it to himself yet.”

Other Oscar slides a hand up Lando’s shirt, tweaking one of Lando’s nipples, and Lando fucking shivers, eyes sliding shut, letting out this breathless little moan. Lando tips his head back against other Oscar’s shoulder, nosing at other Oscar’s cheek.

Oscar’s cheeks heat, cock stiffening in his shorts. He feels absurdly, achingly jealous of the older version of himself drawing needy noises out of Lando.

It’s surreal feeling jealous of himself, doesn’t make any sense. But Oscar can’t help it as he watches the older version of himself press a line of kisses down Lando’s neck, staring right at Oscar over Lando’s shoulder, an amused glint in his eye.

Oscar realizes with a jolt that he sort of fucking hates his older self.

But he can’t look away as his older self tugs at the hem of Lando’s shirt and murmurs, “This okay, sweetheart?” Lando nods and whispers, “Please, Osc,” voice high and breathy.

Oscar’s still not sure how he ended up here, in this odd future version of his life, watching his older self calling an older version of Lando sweetheart. 

One minute Oscar had been sitting in the living room of his shitty flat in London, and the next he was in a kitchen in a sprawling flat with older versions of himself and Lando. When he’d appeared in the corner of the room, older Oscar had barely seemed surprised, had just given him a lazy grin and said, “I was wondering when you’d turn up.”

Oscar realizes that this same thing must’ve happened to the older version of himself when he was Oscar’s age. And the same thing will happen to Oscar once he’s the same age as the older version of himself. Oscar’s read enough sci-fi books about time travel to know time’s, like, a flat circle or something. Everything that’s happened before will happen again.

What Oscar can’t work out fully is why it’s happening. He thinks he knows, but—it’s something he’s spent a long time trying not to acknowledge.

But it’s hard to ignore when his older self slides a pale hand down the tan skin of Lando’s stomach, drifting closer to the waistband of Lando’s jeans. 

Oscar sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes Lando’s already hard, the thick outline of Lando’s cock pressing against the fabric. Oscar’s heart kicks as he realizes he wants to see it, wants other Oscar to unbuckle Lando’s belt, tug the button open, pull the zipper down. He’s staring openly at Lando’s crotch, can feel spit pooling in his mouth, imagining getting on his knees, sucking Lando down—

“I told you he wants you,” other Oscar breathes, lips pressed against Lando’s ear. “He wants to see your pretty cock so fucking bad, it’s all he can think about.”

Oscar’s about to snap at his older self, tell him to shut his filthy fucking mouth, tell him he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

But Lando whimpers, eyes fluttering open to look right at Oscar. Oscar feels all the fight go out of him when he sees the desperate look on Lando’s face. 

“I can show him, yeah?” Oscar’s older self asks, reaching a hand down to trace over the line of Lando’s cock through the fabric. “Show him your gorgeous fucking cock?”

Lando gasps, nods, and Oscar’s older self is already undoing his belt, his hands smooth and practiced, like he’s done it a hundred times before. He probably has, Oscar thinks, and the flare of jealousy the realization inspires feels white hot, scalding.

But his older self is pushing Lando’s jeans and underwear down his thighs, his cock springing free, thick and dusky and hard. His older self was right, Oscar thinks. It’s really fucking pretty.

“Look at you,” his older self breathes, chin hooked over Lando’s shoulder, hands roaming over Lando’s stomach and chest and thighs, cupping Lando’s pec, digging into the soft skin of Lando’s hip. Almost like he’s showing Lando off to Oscar.

When his older self drags a thumb over Lando’s nipple and Lando’s cock throbs, a bead of wetness slipping from the tip, Oscar lets out a breathless, “Fuck.”

Lando moans at that, cheeks flushing, and it makes Oscar feel insane, seeing how reactive Lando is.

“It’s a nice cock, isn’t it?” Oscar’s older self asks, looking right at Oscar.

Oscar thinks about telling his older self to fuck off. But he can’t, not when Lando’s looking at Oscar with wide, uncertain eyes, like he thinks there’s any world in which Oscar doesn’t think Lando’s cock is the prettiest cock he’s ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, meeting Lando’s eyes. “So fucking nice.”

Lando’s mouth drops open at Oscar’s words, a shudder running through him. Oscar can’t hold back a moan at the sight, delirious to see how much his words seem to affect Lando.

“You can suck it if you want,” Oscar’s older self says idly. “You should hear the sounds he makes.”

Oscar feels like he might black out at the idea of sucking Lando’s cock, but he’s never sucked anyone’s dick before, never even let himself want it in any real sort of way. He can’t imagine doing it for the first time with his older self watching on, critiquing his technique, telling him how to make it better.

“But maybe you’d like him to suck you instead?”

For a moment, Oscar’s not sure if he’s heard his older self correctly. If his older self’s actually suggesting that Lando suck him off.

But his older self’s bringing two fingers up to Lando’s mouth, dragging them over the wet seam of Lando’s mouth, slipping them inside when Lando’s lips part. Lando sucks them down greedily, cheeks hollowing, bright eyes still fixed on Oscar. Watching it, Oscar can imagine exactly how good Lando must look on his knees.

“Jesus,” Oscar mutters, looking back and forth between his older self and Lando. “You two are fucking insane.”

His older self snorts. “I’m you, mate. If we’re insane, you’re right here with us.”

Oscar groans, because his older self’s right. It’s annoying how his older self keeps fucking doing that. Being right about shit that Oscar would really prefer not to think about.

“Come on,” his older self says, nodding at the sofa. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog,” Oscar says, but he goes anyway, perching on the edge of the sofa.

“Good,” his older self says, still fucking Lando’s mouth with his fingers. Almost like he’s trying to remind Oscar of where this is all leading. Keep him focused. Oscar hates that it’s working. “Now take off your clothes.”

Oscar feels abruptly self-conscious at the thought of being naked in front of his older self, but he remembers that they’re the same person. Nothing his older self hasn’t seen before.

When he’s fully naked, he catches his older self staring at him with a breathless expression, cheeks slightly pink. It’s the first time Oscar’s seen his older self look remotely affected.

“What’re you staring at?” Oscar asks, hand twitching to cover his dick.

His older self shakes his head, laughs. “Sorry, just—forgot how fit I was back then.” He presses a kiss to Lando’s neck, even as he’s still staring at Oscar, eyes roving appreciatively over Oscar’s body. “You look good, Oscar.”

Oscar flushes, cock hardening at his older self’s words. He wonders if it’s, like, fucked up to be getting turned on by himself, but he reasons it’s sort of the same as masturbation. Just—an extremely fucking surreal version of it.

His older self pulls his fingers out of Lando’s mouth and tugs his own clothes off. Oscar’s surprised to see exactly how broad his older self is, all the softness, the lingering baby fat, long gone from his body. He has, like, a fucking six-pack or something.

“Christ,” Oscar says. “How are you so—” He trails off and waves a hand at his older self as if to say, all of that.

His older self barks out a laugh. “Are you trying to say I look good?”

Oscar thinks about lying, but he realizes he doesn’t want to. “Yeah,” Oscar says, embarrassed when he sounds sort of out of breath. “Like, really good.”

Oscar’s older self’s eyes go dark at that, cheeks flushing, dick firming up. He looks off-balance for the first time and Oscar can’t help but enjoy it, seeing his older self look as overwhelmed as Oscar feels.

“This is fucking weird,” Lando says.

When Oscar looks over at him, Lando’s looking back and forth between the pair of them like he can’t process what he’s seeing. Oscar’s stunned to realize he forgot about Lando for a moment, too caught up in the sight of himself.

Oscar’s older self runs a hand over Lando’s back and murmurs, “Sorry for getting distracted, baby.”

Lando shakes his head. “No, it was—” He trails off, gaze still flicking back and forth between Oscar and his older self. Finally, he says, “What if you two, like, kissed?”

Oscar flushes but his older self smiles indulgently, pulling Lando in for a languid kiss. Lando melts into it, pressing tight against other Oscar, draping his arms around other Oscar’s neck, sliding them into his hair. Oscar has to reach a hand down to palm his dick at the sight of it, unbearably turned on by Lando’s small noises, the press of his older self’s palm against the small of Lando’s back.

“Yeah, baby?” Oscar’s older self murmurs, pulling back just a bit. “Want to see the two of us together?”

Lando nods eagerly and whispers, “Please.”

Oscar’s older self glances over at Oscar, a soft smile on his lips. “What do you say, Oscar? Should we give him a show?”

Oscar thinks about saying no. It’s fucking weird, the idea of kissing himself. But Lando looks outrageously turned on by the idea and Oscar finds himself saying, “Yeah, uh, sure.”

His older self’s smile grows and he comes over to the sofa, settling next to Oscar, thick thigh pressed against Oscar’s own. Oscar can’t help but notice the identical moles, identical scar from when they fell off their bikes as a kid. They’re the same, Oscar thinks. They’ve lived the same lives, have the same scars, think the same thoughts.

Want the same things, Oscar realizes when he looks over at Lando. Lando, with his curls and bright eyes and cheeky smiles. Lando, who’s just as beautiful as he is in Oscar’s time. Lando, who Oscar’s wanted since he first saw him, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself until this moment.

Lando’s looking right at Oscar as he says, “Kiss him, Osc. Please.”

Oscar takes a shaky breath and turns his head to the side, finding himself right there, the same hunger reflected in his other self’s eyes. Oscar wants to kiss him, he realizes. Wants to kiss this version of himself who touches Lando like he knows his body better than his own, who seems comfortable and at ease in his own skin, who seems to know exactly what he wants and admits it all without shame or fear or embarrassment.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” his older self asks.

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, bringing a tentative hand up to tangle in his older self's hair, watching his older self's eyes go dark. “He is.”

His older self moans, and lets Oscar pull him into a slow, deep kiss.

[woozinhos]

hii i love your works SO MUCH and been scrolling on your page for longgg

can you please do the domestic dino when he sick but very needy at the same time?? thxx 🌟

Ahhh anon thank you so much honestly that’s so sweet of you I really do try my best <3 enjoy!!

Chan is lying in bed, feeling absolutely miserable with his illness. His body aches, his head is pounding, and his fever has left him feeling both hot and cold at the same time. But amidst all the discomfort, there's another feeling that he can't seem to shake - a deep, burning need for you.

He tries to push the feeling aside, telling himself that he's too sick to be thinking about such things. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop the way his body responds to your touch. As you fuss over him, tending to his needs and trying to make him comfortable, Chan can't help but watch you with a mix of adoration and desire. He wants to pull you into bed with him, to feel your skin against his and lose himself in the pleasure of your touch.

But he's too weak and tired to act on his desires, and the frustration is driving him crazy. As the day wears on, Chan's need for you only grows stronger. He finds himself reaching for you every chance he gets, craving the comfort of your touch. But every time he tries to pull you closer, his body betrays him with another coughing fit or a bout of shivers.

He lets out a frustrated groan, burying his face in his pillow. "Why can't I just touch you?" he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You hear his frustrated words and can't help but smile sympathetically. You sit down on the edge of the bed, gently running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You're sick, Chan," you remind him gently. "We can't do anything until you're feeling better."

Chan lets out another frustrated huff, but he leans into your touch, seeking comfort in your presence.

"I know, I know," he mutters, his voice filled with disappointment. "But it's so hard to resist you. You have no idea how badly I want you right now."

You chuckle softly, continuing to stroke his hair in a soothing manner.

"I can imagine," you say, a hint of amusement in your voice. "But trust me, the last thing we need is for you to get even more sick by pushing yourself too hard."

Chan lets out a low groan, clearly not happy with your response.

"But I feel like I'm going to explode if I can't have you," he complains, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

Chan's sudden action catches you off guard, and you freeze for a moment as you feel the heat of his body through his pants. He looks up at you with a mix of desperation and lust in his eyes, his breath coming in short, ragged pants.

"Please," he whispers, his voice thick with need. "I need you to touch me."

You swallow hard, your heart racing as you feel the hardness beneath your hand. Chan's eyes are locked on yours, his gaze burning with desire as he silently begs you to give him what he wants. You can feel your own body responding to his need, your own desire flaring to life as you realize how badly he wants you.

"Chan, we can't," you say, though your voice is a bit shaky now.

You try to pull your hand away, but Chan's grip tightens, holding you in place.

"Please," he repeats, his voice a desperate whisper. "Just for a little while. I promise I'll stop if I feel too bad."

He's pleading with you now, his body trembling with need as he looks up at you with those big, puppy dog eyes. You hesitate for a moment, torn between your desire to take care of Chan and your desire to give in to his request. But the look on his face is too tempting, and the way his body responds to your touch is impossible to ignore.

"Fine," you relent, your voice barely above a whisper. "But just for a little while, okay?"

Chan lets out a sigh of relief as he frees himself from his pants, his cock hard and already leaking precum. He looks up at you with a mixture of gratitude and anticipation, his eyes filled with a needy hunger.

"Thank you," he breathes, his voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how badly I need this."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you wrap your hand around his shaft. Chan's body jerks in response, a low moan escaping his lips as you begin to stroke him.

"Fuck," he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed as he loses himself in the sensation. "That feels so good."

You continue to stroke him slowly, savoring the feel of his hot, silky skin beneath your fingers. Chan's body is trembling with need, his hips bucking upwards as he desperately seeks more friction.

"Faster," he pleads, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, I need more."

You oblige, increasing the pace of your strokes as you watch Chan's face contort with pleasure. His breathing is ragged now, his chest heaving with each gasp as he writhes beneath your touch.

"God, yes," he groans, his eyes still closed as he loses himself in the sensation. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop."

You can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching in your hand as his moans become more frequent and urgent. His hips are moving frantically now, his body straining towards release as he chases the pleasure you're giving him.

"I'm so close," he gasps, his voice strained with need. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You can see the desperation in his eyes as he reaches the edge, his body taut with tension.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice hoarse and strained. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum so hard."

You increase the pace even more, determined to push him over the edge. Chan's back arches off the bed as he reaches his peak, his body convulsing with the force of his orgasm.

He lets out a guttural moan, his eyes rolling back in his head as he spills over your hand, his cum hot and sticky on your skin. Chan collapses back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

L He looks completely spent, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release.

"Holy shit," he gasps, his voice shaky. "That was... that was amazing."

You withdraw your hand, wiping it clean on a nearby towel. Chan is still panting, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion. He looks up at you with a dazed expression, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice still hoarse. "I needed that so badly."

[longingforrotkehlchen]

My 2024 Top 10 Favourites.

On Melancholy Hill Tumblr's and my absolute favourite. There isn't much to say. I just remember turning around while counting geese, and there it was - an idyllic scene. A crow extraordinarily relaxed, loafing on a nice spring afternoon. I came a bit closer thinking I *really* hope it stays. Then I crouched fearing the same, but the crow, watched me attentively and stayed. I was blessed - the luck of photographing birds more used to people. The slope gave me the perfect height for the shot, and the crow just chilled there, looking like something was occupying its mind. I got what I wanted and left. The crow stayed there, but it also stayed with me forever.

Sweet mommy's love It was Graugansito season and fortunately I was right in time to see the very little ones. This scene was beautiful, and obviously the geese just chill by the lake and all you need is a perfect moment to capture. This one stood out for me. And I can neither confirm nor deny whether there were more goslings hidden under mommy's wing.

Europe's angriest bird This picture was taking by cheating. So call me a cheat. It is nice, but I cheated. And even worse, I made a little guy angry. Yes, I did play playback (even though I believe that's wrong) in this one because I had seen a pair of goldcrests here the previous week and I was very curious to see if they were genuinely staying and breeding in this place. The male came and sang immediately –that's how I got him nicely close to me–, but the best thing about this encounter wasn't the pictures - it was realizing that the bird seemed to know there wasn't another bird. That I was the source of the goldcrest song. That I was his enemy. I haven't managed to make a bird love me, but that day, I managed to make one hate me.

The light of duckling This pond lends itself to high contrasts and you can play a little with that. I didn't have much time, and the ducklings were all over the place, but I got lucky (otherwise, this post wouldn't exist). As I was leaving I took one last shot with the settings I had for a different spot - and it turned out well. Some of my favourite photos are those that transmit emotions when you look at them. I think this is also one of them.

Spring has arrived It's easy to forget you don't have to be very close to the bird to get a nice photo. In any case, here I was taking a photo out of excitement at seeing Hausrotschwanzkehlchen back, before getting closer to the bird. I never intended it to be anything more than a 'proof' shot, but sometimes those turn out way better than expected.

Is this fluff real? It was peak migration, sunny late afternoon, Schwanzmeise flock and there I was, trying to capture this so-called product of my imagination. It was difficult to get the right angle as the sun was behind them and I had to avoid the backlight, but the good thing about them is that they don't seem to care much about your presence. I got this one really really nicely, and right after they left, I saw my first black storks in the sky. Last September was good.

One more shot As I focus on birding and photography comes second, sometimes I might just leave with zero nice photos to post. That day was no different, but that day I was also thinking: "I'm running out of current photos to post." So I gave it an extra shot, overstayed, and tried to find a subject. A big Blaumeise bunch showed up, many of them, busy foraging, and (I think it was always the same) one came so close that allowed me to take some cute photos.

The pose There's little challenge in taking photos of the coots in this pond. If that wasn't enough, the light was nice that day and someone had thrown a pallet in it. The coot was standing on it and I thought the opportunity was too nice to ignore. Then it even started stretching, giving me the chance to capture this nice pose. The poop is just extra.

The babiest Wacholderdrossel As I was leaving the S-Bahn station, coming up the stairs, I saw this baby perched on a handrail. I could barely believe it, so I emerged, went there, and took my camera out. The baby was going nowhere despite people walking right in front of it. I took some photos, in awe, and I don't know what everybody else contemplating us thought, but I thought that I was so damn lucky to have such a cute photo without even having started.

Just a moment If you're learning photography, nobody is going to tell you "just shoot at whatever you see," but that seems to work sometimes. It's not my intention, mind, because here I saw a little bird perching above my head and I really needed this shot to indeed confirm I was seeing Fitis and not Zilpzalp. But look at that little face, that smoothness... I guess when you take thousands of shots while going places, a few might also be nice. It's never easy to decide, but here's my selection with some background/behind the scenes. As usual there isn't much to it. Mostly just press the button. Let's hope 2025 brings us more bird joy to all of us!

[twodogs-twocats]

hiiii, how are you? i hope you’re well and enjoying the holidays!! i’ve never made a request for anyone before, but i really love your writing and i read your headcanons for sleep token as roommates literally everyday. I think i have them memorized by now hdiwbsks. If you could write more about that (anything you want really - any specific scenario(s) you have in mind, or more headcanons on the theme, nsfw or not, for just one member or all) whenever you have the time, i would love to read it! ☺️❤️

Hiii!! Thank you so much for the lovely request! I'm so happy to hear you like those headcannons - they were also my obsessions for a while and I needed to get them out of my brain. This is your first request made, and my first request ever received! Thank you for giving me the inspiration to write something after a long (and necessary) break. I have a couple ideas floating around my noggin continuing with the theme of "Sleep Token as Roommates" and here is the first. I hope you like it 🖤

Making the First Move (headcannons)

Part of my Sleep Token as Roommates headcannons. There is obvious will-they won't-they tension between you and each of your roommates. This is how I imagine the line would finally be crossed with each of them.

Vessel: Vessel would be the most in his head about making a move, as he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable if you don't feel the same. Therefore, it would only happen when inhibitions were a bit low, and romantic tension high. One night, you both are home alone (a rare occurrence). You've each had a few glasses of wine, the sun is low in the sky, and you are sitting comfortably in a chair listening to Vessel play the piano. He floats through various tunes gracefully, everything from Grieg to Chopin to a piano rendition of Hey Jude, and you find yourself closing your eyes to settle deeper into the sound. Eventually he stops and pats a spot on the bench. I want to teach you a duet, he says. You settle in next to him, the warmth of his thigh next to yours causes your belly to flutter. He instructs you through a simple duet, a tune you are unfamiliar with. His instructions are clear, his voice so soft it is nearly a whisper. You do your best to follow along, both of you laughing at the occasional discordant note. The motion of his long fingers dancing across the keys pulls you into a trance until you play a wrong note, causing your fingers to brush against his. Instead of pulling away, his fingers linger, interlacing with your own. Your eyes meet, the answer to his question apparently clear in your gaze, as he brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear and leans closer.

II: As II is the most openly jealous of your roommates, he will make his first move after you invite a guy over. The guy is simply not your type, and his visit to your home ends without so much as even a kiss. You know you will never see him again, and you trudge to the kitchen cursing internally about your string of bad dates. II, however, does not realize this, and when you catch him leaning against the counter he is visibly fuming but trying so so hard to control his feelings so as not to hurt you. He can barely meet your eyes, and you don't have to ask to know what he is upset about. You sigh, and tell II that your date was yet another flop. At this moment, you see his expression flash from despair to hope. Let me take you out. He smiles brightly, his arms braced against the kitchen counter behind him, eyes full of conviction. You stutter, unsure if he meant what you thought he meant. Was he really asking you out on a date? I'm sorry, he continues, approaching you. The fire in his eyes softens a bit. It's just that I can tell you didn't like that guy, and I can't stand to watch you suffer another bad date. None of them know how to treat you. He places his hands on your waist and your belly burns with anticipation. II normally showed so much restraint, so his hands actually on you turns your thoughts into mush. Can I make it up to you? he asks, pulling you close to him. Finally, an offer you are excited to accept.

III: Once again, you fall asleep in III's bed after watching a scary movie. This film was particularly horrid, the images still flashing across your mind even as you snuggle into III's sheets. He pulls you close, his arms warm and strong around you, but he can tell you are distracted even as he tries to comfort you with dumb jokes and silly stories. Still thinking about the movie, huh? You admit that it terrified you, and that you're having a hard time relaxing. Hmmm. I might need to distract you a bit then. Now you feel III's breath closer to your skin. The room is dark and you can't make out what he's doing until you feel lips pressed softly against your forehead. Next, they land on your cheek, the kiss warm but feather light. A tingle of pleasure travels up your spine, goosebumps prickling your skin. III kisses your nose next, and you can feel him hovering hesitantly mere centimeters away from your own lips. You close the distance, the kiss so long anticipated wiping any thought of the movie from your mind.

IV: Ivy is a visual man, and he cannot help the way he feels when he sees you come out of your room wearing a slinky new dress, black and sparkly. While the others whistle and tease you, openly hyping you up, IV is silent, eyeing you up and down possessively. You blush and shoo them all away, but IV remains, watching you put on your shoes as you try to make conversation with him. He gives you one-word answers only, his voice strained. You are hyper-aware of his eyes on your every move. You are about to head out the door to meet your friends when IV grabs your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. God I don't know what's gotten into me. You just look so. damn. good in that dress. I almost don't want anyone else to see you. He lets go of your wrist, shaking his head. I'm sorry - but you cut off his apology with a smirk. When IV sees that he has not scared you off, he meets your smile with an equally flirtatious one, leaning close. Have fun tonight. But the next time I see that dress it will be on my bedroom floor.

[thegirltate]

Adam Parrish

[milfbrainrot]

have always been a bit more neutral to timebomb but it has rly surprisingly grown on me so much ;-; i think i do see it more from the tragedy angle and maybe more one-sided. i'm not sure jinx has ever been in a place to reciprocate the feelings i'm sure ekko has, but it is nice to think about for years down the line and in terms of what could have been.

[henrybelly]

i wonder if part of the seeming-illiteracy i complain about when it comes to how fans understand many warriors characters is a product of how the series is compartmentalized?

people form an opinion on a character's actions in one arc, then they form an opinion of how they behave in another arc, and then they try to combine these two opinions -- and so if in the first arc, the fan's opinion is negative, then in the second, the character makes amends and grows, and the fan forms a positive opinion, the result isn't "this character did bad things and then grew as a person" it's "this character has done some good things and some bad things and should continue to be held accountable for all of the bad things"

a great deal of it is also the mindset that "sin"/any mistakes fudamentally stains you as a person, so no matter how much you repent or change, you are still a bad person -- and also that "bad thoughts" are, if not as condemnable as "bad actions", still something the character must be persecuted for and atone over. notice how these are both christian frameworks of wrongdoing.

maybe because we go back and forth so often in the timeline, we end up with this character-development-soup where any action a character took in the 4th arc is still just as relevant to who they are as the action they took in the 6th arc. it's hard to discuss "ivypool" when i don't even know if the people i'm talking to have read avos, tigerheart's shadow, the broken code, AND the Thunder excerpt, or if we're arguing over OOTS ivypool and one post they read on tumblr

an example of this timeline-soup fallibility in my own analysis is how i think about Blossomfall's age in comparison to Thornclaw's. i think of OOTS as "my era" because it's the series that was coming out when i got into the books as a kid. So, Blossomfall in my imagination is almost always OOTS Blossomfall.

Therefore, when I try to reconcile "blossomfall and thornclaw are a couple" with the OOTS Blossomfall that lives in my brain, alarm bells go off. It's hard to factor in the timeskip between OOTS and AVOS because i'm still subconsciously living in OOTS.

anyway, it's just something to think about

[boogiewoogieweeb]

it's all fun and games typing up a silly, rickety little au idea in the tags of someone else's post and then suddenly you find yourself expanding on the world-building and plotting out interconnected stories for characters you swore would only make background appearances and your brain is On Fire with the need to write even when you know you can't commit to yet another doomed wip

[ofyorkshire]

turning the bizarre image of angry, vengeful 1983!bj feeding what i am almost certain is a hallucination of his child self a wedge of orange around in my head today.

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Pokémon Horizons Episode 26 spoilers under the cut!

OH SO WE WEREN'T BEING JUST DELUSIONAL,,,,,, THEY'RE DOING IT,,,,,,,,,,,, THEY'RE ACTUALLY DOING IT,,,, , ,

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐈 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Suguru’s pov, he has a fat crush on you, reader has breasts, Suguru sucks on your nipples and bites your breasts, caught masturbating, stoner!suguru, Suguru is hypnotized by your beautiful ass self, heavily praise/smallest hint of condescending/teasing, fingering, begging, daddy/mama/princess/sweetheart name calling, smoking a blunt, face fucking, using his dick to masturbate, ‘just the tip’, becoming friends with benefits, some cock sucking and face fucking, begging, edging, squirting, he uses a vibrator a little towards the end, hints of suguru's size kink, mutual masturbation, controlling when you can cum, he spits in your mouth once, one pussy slap, light pain kink on both ends (biting you, digging your nails into him)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @devilsfavouritelamb; I'm so fucking predictable and reading through those I could imagine so many lines with other characters BUT 'you came so fast, I barely even touched you' with Geto would send me into space😭🫶🏻

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡; 1.8k / 6 minute read!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐲; I’m sorry for how long this took 🥲 I hope you enjoy it!

"Suguuru mnnnn!" Your sweet moan makes Suguru's cock throb. Throwing the blanket off and getting out of bed. Grabbing the blunt from the ashtray along with a lighter.

Another erotic moan from your bedroom, “Guru!” His cock getting heavier and thicker in his sweats. His name couldn’t sound better then when you moan it.

Suguru quietly steps into the hallway, your door is cracked. Easing it open. You’re so damn sexy with legs spread apart stroking the prettiest clit he’s ever seen. A vibrator charging next to you.

Grabbing the top of your doorframe, "Anything I can help you with sweetheart?” Ripping your eyes off the muted faceless guy stroking his fat cock. Tugging the sheets over yourself, your eyes wide with adorable embarrassment.

Suguru laughs, “Aw look at you beautiful, playing with your cunt.”Walking into your room, pointing at your screen, “Were you pretending that was me?” Hooking his thumb in his sweatpants, slowly pushing them down showing you an inch of his cock.

Letting the band go, it snaps back into place. He croons, “Don’t tell me all shy on me again after moaning my name. Did ya forget I was here?” You can't meet his gaze but you can stare at his cock, its so damm cute.

You huff glance away and clutching your sheets tighter, “Yeah, I thought you left, you’re mean!” Pausing the porn playing on your bedroom tv.

Suguru scoffs, “How? I was taking a nap. If anything you’re the mean one playing with your pretty cunt moaning my name, all without me.” He pushes his sweatpants down, kicking them to the side.

Smirking as you glance over then stare at his heavy cock swinging as he walks closer. “Then you cover up when I come to watch. With how you were you moaning my name I thought you wanted my attention.” Spitting in his hand smearing it over his fat cockhead. Suguru’s abs flex as he fucks his fist.

Encouraging you, “Lemme see how you play with yourself when you’re thinking about me mama.” You push off your covers lie down and spread your legs. Sliding your finger in between your soft-looking lips. Soaking your finger to rub your soft clit easier.

Suguru gets on the bed, you have the sexiest cunt his ever seen. “Your cunt ‘s gorgeous mama, ‘s wet thinkin’ about me.” His mouth is watering looking at you. Whilst his cock drips pre-cum onto your sheets.

Smearing the pearling drop of pre-cum on his cockhead’s small slit with a slow swirl of his thumb. “Look me in the eyes mama n’ keep moaning my name when you touch yourself.” You’re eyes are beautiful, alight with an intense lustful passion and needy

Moaning “Suguru please touch me.” It almost makes Suguru cave. “I wanna cum on your fingers.” It’s beautiful how needy you sound begging him.

Suguru’s cock softly twitches in his palm. He needs to feel your soft wet cunt rubbing and squeezing his cock till he bursts. “I’ll pay for plan b fuck I wanna cum in ya.” Swirling his fist stroking his cock faster. Your hands around his cock would make him look so much bigger.

He feels massive kneeling on the foot of your twin-sized bed. You’re soft, supple body and vulnerable state play on Suguru’s size and power kink. His mind is racing things he can do to you and the ways he can tie you up. He wants to test your soft body out with his, find your limits. And make your eyes roll back with body-shaking pleasure.

Begging him, “Daddy please.” Sitting up and grabbing his wrist, sliding it off his cock, slipping two of his thick fingers in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around as you play with your clit.

His cheeks flush with heat. Your warm wet tongue around his fingers, your beautiful body so close to his, he can’t think straight. Suguru is seconds from pinning you to the bed when you glide his fingers out of your mouth.

Grabbing your hair and yanking your head back, “Open your mouth beautiful.” Spitting in your mouth for you to swallow, sticking your tongue out for more. “Fuck me, I wanna stuff my cock in your pretty mouth.” Dipping your head down to take him in your mouth.

You’re beautiful bent over, your soft ass looking so damn smackable. When your sweet lips press against his cock head Suguru's breath hitches. This is really happening. His eyes roll back as he groans when you take him into your hot mouth.

Rolling his hips fucking your mouth. He has always adored your pretty lips. Seeing them wrap around the butt of a blunt was hot. Plaguing his mind when he'd jerk off. But this. watching your pretty lips gliding along his cock, seeing each inch vanish inside of you is memorizing.

Fucking your sweet mouth faster, his balls softly hit your chin with each quick pump of his hips. You grab his thigh digging in the nails he paid for last week when you got stressed.

You suck in your cheeks, stick your tongue out straight, taking his cock like a good slut whilst touching yourself. "Lie back n use my cock like a slut to masturbate. Rub my cock head on your pretty clit but don't cum." The more he slips out of your mouth the harder you suck, making his tight remble.

Leaning forward his broad shoulders curling in. Groaning your name his cock slips out with a pop! "I hope you can go multiple rounds in one day, I'm gonna get horny again thinking about your pretty mouth mama." Admiring you as you lie back down on your back spreading your legs welcoming Suguru.

Lying his fat cock on your soft wet lips. Instantly obsessing over the color and feel of your lips against his pale cock. Along with watching his cock head nudge your perfect clit.

Sliding his hand along your side, gently squeezing. Suguru cups your soft breast, sliding his thumb over your beautiful nipple.

Sliding your hand down his chest, groping his thick pecs, tracing the lines between his abs. “You’re so damn handsome Suguru, you can fuck me like a glory hole whenever you want.” Following his dark happy trail to his cock, holding him still, grinding your hips. Your hands and cunt are so soft.

Grabbing your headboard leaning over your short stature feeling massive as he looms over you. "Next I'll tie you up, after I cum on ya I'll leave ya there like a sex doll for me to come fuck whenever I want" Slowly swiping his cock from side to side getting yourself off with his cock like he's one of your toys.

Sucking on his thumb gently rubbing your soft nipple. Slowly twisting your hardening bud, you sound so hot crying in pain. Gently rubbing your soft nipple, massaging your breast.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your sweet bottom lip trembles. It’s memorizing watching the pleasure overwhelming you. Pleading with him, “Suguru, Daddy, please! I was about to cum before you came in. Please tell me I can cum!” Clenching him with your supple thighs, grinding your hips faster. You’re getting so close.

Suguru pulls away and slaps your wet cunt. The way your body tenses as you cry is stunning. “Watch me, I love seeing passionate lust in your pretty eyes.” Gliding his fingers in, rubbing your sensitive clit with his thumb.

Your squishy, soaking wet cunt quivers, clenching his thick fingers. Dipping his head between your legs. Watching your beautiful, squelching hole take his finger. “Fuck I can't wait to see you take my cock.”

Curling his finger searching for your sweet spot. Biting by your knee, licking up your thigh towards your cunt. Adding a little more pressure on your sensitive cunt.

Arching your back, digging your hips into the bed, grabbing the sheets. He’s found the perfect spot. “There we go beautiful.” Wrapping his hand around your neck, nudging in a second thick finger.

Leaning down to bite your breast, flicking your nipple with his tongue. Rubbing your sweet spot with with fingers, playing with your clit. He adores how you tremble beneath him.

Pinning you by your throat, biting down on you as he finger fucks you. It makes Suguru feel primal like he’s claiming you as his.

Digging your nails into his back, Suguru softens his bite letting your breast go. Grabbing the blunt resting in your ash tray, “Spark it for me mama.” Putting it between his lips for you to spark after you catch you breath.

Taking a slow drag, the end burning red. Taking it from his lips, leaning down to blow the sweet bitter smoke into your mouth. Smoke wisps past your beautiful lips as you moan.

Squirming, spreading your legs, pleading with Suguru, “Please lemme cum I wanna-needa! Nnnn!” You’re getting wetter, tighter, clutching his fingers with soft spasms.

Leaning over you, “Whose are you?” Taking a hit off his blunt before ashing it. “Tell me mama whose fingers are you about to cum on?” Stroking your clit a little faster, finally pushing you over that sweet edge you’ve been seeking.

Sensually moaning, “Your's daddy! Nnn fuck I can't stop it!” He could ruin it for you one more time. Make you cum on his cock being such a naughty slut you moaned his name whilst you touched yourself. But the way you’re pleadingly looking at him.

Taking another slow hit, there is nothing better than this. You trembling, moaning about to cum on his fingers whilst he smokes a blunt.

Smoke drifts past his lips as he croons, “Cum mama.” Thick warm cum gushing on his fingers. Smirking, “You came so fast, and I barely touched you, n' ya came so much.” Finger fucking you through your high, slowly dragging his fingers out, sucking them clean.

Dipping his head, swiping his tongue between your lips groaning in your cunt. Grinding his hips into the bed, his cock aching. He needs to feel you.

Kissing your plush, wet lips, lifting his head to look down at you, taking another drag. “Ya taste so sweet mama.” Gliding in just the tip, moaning as he watches your beautiful little hole stretch for the sloping shape of his fat head. The thick soft ridge of his cock’s mushroom head shape vanishes inside you.

He wants to savor this, draw out the first time he gives you his cock. “Beg for more than just the tip while I smoke my blunt. N’ you can make a mess on my cock mama.” With the blunt between his lips Suguru unplugs the charging vibrator.

Clicking it on keeping it in a low and steady setting, swirling it on your wet, sensitive clit. "Go ahead, focus on begging." Your back arches, driving his cock a little deeper. It takes everything in Suguru to glide his cock back out leaving just the tip.

Oreo’s creampie

[nezuscribe]

(slightly suggestive)

another little drabble for arranged marriage!gojo but imagine a moment before he confessed but something was looming over the two of you. it was crossing the line of friends, not necessarily husband and wife, but two people desperately in love and didn't know how to say it.

you were in one of your late-night frenzies, your brain so muddled with every thought that you decided to do what you knew best: bake.

you often find yourself in this situation as of late, but it truly seems to be the only thing that helps. you wanted to tell gojo how you were feeling, but it was too far in, so you decided something simple and sugary would help you in the moment.

at this point, the walk to the kitchens was something you could do blind, and considering how many times you did this, you already knew where all the ingredients were.

you set out your sugar and flower, and go rummaging in the cold cellar for some butter and eggs. you try not to think about how at dinner gojo slid closer to you, your arms touching as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. or how a couple days ago he had found you in the library, reading next to a windowsill, cozying up next to you as he read the book over your shoulder.

you're so lost in your head with sifting the ingredients that you fail to realize that the very man himself had come up secretly behind you, curiously watching you in your element.

(he'd never admit that he'd first gone to your room, and only came down here after he realized you were gone).

but, unlike the last couple of times, you'd gotten used to his stealthy ways. he was quiet, sure, but you could recognize him by his slight breath alone, or the way he smelled faintly of cloves.

you try not to let your breathing hitch, or let a smile grow on your face as you decide to break the silence.

"if you try to scare me while i'm baking you better rethink your choices," you warn him and hear gojo snicker quietly behind you.

gojo moves from where he was standing, and he leans his back against the counter next to you, craning his neck to look over at your bowl.

your eyes dart to the side, to the way his arms are resting behind him as he balances himself back on them (or the way his arms bulge and veins pop).

"what's on your mind tonight?" gojo asks, knowing you only do this now whenever you're stressed out.

"not much," you mutter, despite wanting to say you, you're on my mind.

he tsks, not buying your lie as he leans in a little close, his head blocking your view of your mixing bowl as he tries to get a little taste with his fingers.

"hey!" you cry, smacking him lightly on the back of his neck, "your hands are all grimy!"

you watch as he peers at you from the corner of his eyes, glaring at your offensive remark as he retracts away, a small pout on his face as you grin in slight victory.

"my hands are clean," you hear him mumble petulantly and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his antics. the closer the two of you got, the more you found out that his closed-off and aloof demeanor was just a facade for a dramatic, grouchy man-child.

there's a comfortable silence for a moment, one where you're mixing and one where he watches you mix. you don't really notice the quiet anymore, just another added sound when you and gojo grow more comfortable together.

"how was your day?" he finally asks, a simple question, but you know he's using it as a mask to find out what was wrong with you.

"good," you say with a shrug, starting to gently fold in your wet mixture with your dry one, "you weren't at dinner so i was actually able to eat in peace," you add, trying to sound indifferent when really it's what spurred this entire thing on. how, when you realized that you missed seeing him, talking to him, being near him, you were really, really, missing him. and that's not how friends are supposed to act. or, at least, from what you've heard.

gojo smiles, a soft look on his face. you're trying to be sarcastic, he knows that, but there's something...deeper behind your words, something that he too feels.

"the eastern tribe took up more time than i thought they would," he explains, his blue eyes glowing when he notices the way you slightly relax, "i tried telling them that my wife was waiting for me, but apparently peace negotiations can't be postponed."

you bite your lips, trying to hold back your giddy smile at his words. you know he's probably teasing you, using the phrase my wife as a way to get out of a boring meeting, but you love it nonetheless.

he knows you do.

"those bastards," you murmur teasingly, hearing his loud laugh as he lightly shoves you with the point of his boot.

"yeah, well, they don't have wives back home," he crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips into a thin line, "so they don't know the feeling."

you swallow thickly, not looking over at him when he says that.

there's another silence as you continue to fold the batter, sensing that same feeling wash over the two of you.

"let me grab a..." you turn around, head craning to look for a spoon to dip in the batter, needing to make sure the sweetness wasn't too overbearing (and because you liked tasting the batter before it was sent off to be baked thoroughly), but stop when gojo pulls the bowl in closer to him.

you watch as he glides his finger across the sides, not letting it touch the actual bulk of the mixture, and brings it forth towards your lips.

his brows cock upwards, as if he was waiting for you to try it.

you give him a look, nose slightly wrinkled.

"i swear my hands are clean," he promises, crossing one hand over his chest as a sort of pledge, but that's not what holding you back, shouldn't he know that?

your mind is working to beat the thrill of your heart, the one that's pulling you towards him like a magnet, the one that desperately wants to have his finger in your mouth.

you bite your cheek for a second, eyes flickering up from his to his finger, and some sort of heat in you takes control as one hand gently grabs his wrist, pulling his hand closer to your parted lips.

your tongue darts out, your mouth closing over the digit as you taste the sugary batter coating your tongue. you feel dizzy, your stomach twisting, a heat taking over your body as your tongue swipes over it, licking it clean.

it's nothing overexaggerated, nothing too crazy. you lick his finger the way you'd like your own, but fuck, this isn't your own finger and gojo's looking at you with his pupils blown wide, the blacks overtaking the blue in his eyes.

your hand is still holding his wrist, your lips gliding over it as you pull away, breathing slightly less when you glance up at him.

gojo swallows thickly, hoping you don't see the bulge that's growing in his pants.

"good?" he chokes out, his voice thick in his throat.

"yeah," you mutter, the batter still lingering on your tastebuds, "it's perfect."

fuck, you're both screwed.

[bi-writes]

how would arguments go between simon and MOB? i imagine he would never dare raise his voice at her.

simon does not argue with his wife. if you are in danger or something is wrong, i could see him using a little bit of his lieutenant's voice just to get you to listen to him. to "get behind me" or "i'll take care of this, you go." otherwise, there's no resistance. none at all.

"you know, simon, i..." you stop at the door, swallowing. you rub a hand over your forehead, shaking your head. "i...i-i really don't want to go."

he shuffles in his boots, staring at you carefully. you're all dressed up; you've got a new dress on (that he bought you, eagerly), and you've done your makeup. you clutch your purse with clammy hands, and he narrows his eyes when he sees the tremble in your bottom lip. he clears his throat, taking his jacket off. he removes his boots quietly, scratching the back of his neck as he comes close to you to take your bag and hang it up by the door again.

"okay," simon murmurs. "then we won't go."

he doesn't tell you about the cancellation fee.

"'ello?"

"simon!"

he startles awake this time, holding the phone closer to his ear. the sheer anxiety in your voice cuts his gut sharp.

"wot? wot is it? wot happened?"

"i--i totally...i screwed up, simon--oh, god, i'm so sorry--"

"oi!" simon says firmly. "wot happened?"

"i...i'm at the shop, someone was going to back into me, so i swerved, and--"

"fuck," simon breathes. "are ya olright?"

"the car, it's--"

"not wot i asked," simon interrupts you. "are ya hurt?"

"w-what? i..." you sniffle. "no. i'm okay. just a little sore, i guess..."

simon lets out a deep breath, shaking his head.

"i'm coming," simon says lowly. "you stay there, baby. don't move."

"but, simon, the walk is--"

"i'll see ya in twenty."

"oh, no, no, no, no!" you gasp. the orange tabby's head perks up at the sound of your voice at the door. she's got one of simon's masks in her mouth, and even from this distance and without the lights turned on, you can tell the fabric is shredded to bits. it's all over the floor, scattered across the couch, flecks of lint in her fur.

"oh, god, how could you?!" you panic a little. she must have gotten into some kind of drawer or basket or the laundry, because as you start towards her, she darts away, leading you across the house where you can see shreds of more masks and simon's socks strewn about the house. "oh, no!"

the front door closes heavy. when you come into the living room, simon is there, dropping his gear onto the floor. he looks tired--his shoulders sag, and you can see his eyes half-lidded and barely opening.

"simon, i'm...i'm s-sorry, she--"

you're holding his tattered clothes, but before you can say anything more, he grabs you by the shoulders and hugs you so tight. you nearly lose your breath from how he crushes you to his chest, and you let out a quiet whimper when his knees buckle and he falls to the floor with you, cradling your head to his chest and kissing your forehead through the mask over and over.

you're here. you're real. you're alive.

you drop the shredded fabric and hug him back, closing your eyes as you breathe him in. he tips your head back finally, ripping his mask off and kissing you hard.

he doesn't care when he sees the orange cat take a bite of his thrown mask and run away with it.

he can buy a million masks. but his girls--he pulls back from your kiss to stare down at you, intense. he hasn't slept in days, and he hasn't had a decent meal in weeks, camping on different rooftops just to track a shipment, and when that bullet whizzed past his head, all he could think about was you. the cat-bitten plants. the warm food. the cherry dress. some things cannot be replaced.

some brides cannot be ordered again. they don't make them like you.

you are one of a kind.

[nishiyako]

After A Long Day (NSFW)

Paring : Kenji Sato x Reader

Tags : Doggy style, Vaginal penetration, Make outs, praise , after care, Fluffy ending, Reader has some type of long hair, established Relationship, Kenji has some sort of complex.

Summary : After a long day of work, Kenji comes home to his lovely girlfriend with a surprise, merch she got of his jersey. Seeing his name and player number on you does wonders to his already inflated ego.

Kenji Sato was everywhere, his face and name of hundreds of billboards and products, it dose something to someone's ego.

He loved the support from fans, the attention from media but most importantly, he loved coming home from a long day of interviews, events, and partiess to you.

Simple and lovable you.

He parked his bike outside before entering his mansion, placing his helmet and keys on the dinner table before seeing you sitting in the living room on your phone while the TV was running.

He made his way over to you, your eyes looked up from your phone screen to see him suddenlt infront of you, you can't lie that you got a little startled but you were more happy he was back before it got too late,

He bends down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face in the process. He sits beside you as he unzips his biker jacket, "whatcha' watching?" He asks, wondering what's got you so focused this late at night, throwing his jacket to the end of the couch promising himself he'll clean it up later, throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling himself closer.

"It's a tie between the TV and my phone if I'm being honest" you giggled placing your phone down, you met his loving gaze, placing your hand on his chest, softly kissing his cheek "how was your day sweetheart?" You asked softly, almost as a way of apologizing on you being so voided.

"Good, busy as always." He said like he was waiting for that question all day, meeting your hand on his chest, moving it, holding it while it rests on his lap "Well, it was mostly interviews and shooting for promotions for the team, after that we had a few drinks."

You listened intently as he got into the details of his day, complaining mostly. Giving your thoughts and opinions whenever he asked.

"That's about it. What did you do the whole day?" He asked after wrapping up his day, "Nothing really, just watched TV and cleaned up here a bit, " you said plainly before you stood up from the couch.

"Something I ordered came in the mail though," you said with a smile on your face. "Yeah? What is it?" He asked, as your smile peaked his intrest.

You took his hand, pulling him over to the bedroom, perverted thoughts alredy entering his mind, thinking you probably ordered some slutty liengre and wanted to show him.

You sat him down on the bed as you escaped into the bathroom, asking him to wait for a moment as you closed the door.

As soon as that door shuts he alredy started imagining what you're gonna walk out wearing, probably wearing something tight and strapy, an idiotic smile alredy appearing on his lips from picturing you in something that small.

But he remembered you weren't the type to get something like that, maybe a new dress? Something light for summer. His past thoughts still lingering no matter how cute the dress would be, imagining just lifting it over your hips and fucking you dumb.

His hands covered his red tinted face from just imagening it, sexual frustration just from you keeping him in suspense, "Ken? You ready?" Your voice through the door snapping him back to reality "Huh? Yeah, yeah." He said, a slight stutter from his voice.

You creecked the door open, as he took a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

You wore an oversized jearsy with his team's name on it, it looked simple enough, He thought it was cute, swing you show support for his team, practicly his second family.

Until you turned around, moving your hair to the side and there he saw it, a big 7 and his last name on your back.

You couldn't miss it either, it was right there, black bold lettering on the thin white fabric. You walked closer to him as his eyes were fixated on the way it hugged your body and how your thighs were peaking of out of the fabric just bearly.

Straddling his lap as he still couldn't find the strength to move a muscle, until he did.

His shaky hand going under the jersey, rubbing your bare hip, as you kissed him, your hands running through his hair as his hands creeped up your thigh looking for some panties to pull down, truely a perfect way to end his day he thought.

A giggle exits your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss, a puzzled look on his face before he felt you push him down on the bed snapping him back to attention suddenly, your mouth alredy leaving marks on his neck eagerly, seeming like the both of you werent even on the same wavelength.

"You arnt gonna find something down there, I'm not wearing anything" you whisper nonchalantly before continuing to attack his neck with kisses and love bites.

Basically hinting the fact that you're weren't wearing panties.

"You planned this didn't you" he breathed out

Is eyebrows widen in suprise, he takes a mintue sinking it it before accepting his fate before he layed back with stupid smirk, enjoying the free hickies while he undid his jeans.

In a few minutes you found yourself under him, the jersey just slightly above your midriff, his eyes widened. Holy shit, you really weren't wearing anything under that.

His signiture grin on his face as he pulled down his jeans just above his thighs, he swore he saw hearts in your eyes when you felt him press against you.

He had a feeling you've been pent up for a while, he was just too busy to do anything about it, until now ofcourse.

You felt him pick you up and made you lay on your stomach, pulling your hips right against him, feeling him throb in-between your legs, so close yet so far from where you realy wanted it, you felt his hand grip onto the flesh of your hips.

He leaned down, closing the distance between you two, his chest right against your back and his lips millimeters away from your ear "Feel that? All for you babe." He said in a husky tone, right against your ear, a grin on his lips after hearing a whine come out of your mouth hearing those words.

Your body jolted, feeling something familiar prod inside you, His mouth still right against your ear, not changing a single thing. you heard his breath hitch everytime he gets deeper.

Your body shivered from the feeling, you've missed this. You've both missed this.

He held your hands over your head, pressing them against the bed sheets as he gently bucked his hips, moving carefully feeling how tight you were around him yet taking him so well.

He was taking it in, fucking his perfect girlfriend, having her perfect voice loud enough to echo around the house, thanking his perfect self he got a place far from anyone else.

He got to have you, all to himself, after a long work day, wearing a jersey with his name on it.

With his name on it.

He let's go of your hands remembering something, one of them holding you by your hips, rutting in and out of you while the other one tucks your hair to the side of your shoulder, revealing the back design of his last name and player number on your back.

Shit, he felt so egotistical and narcissistic but this was better than any kind of liengre or sundress you could ever buy.

Looked like a scene from a wet dream he could've had.

You felt him pick up the pace, started moving aimlessly yet his tip kept rubbing the perfect spongey spot inside you. Your voice started raising, getting louder than it always was, not like you could say anything from your fucked out state.

His muscles started to tense, getting lost into he feeling of being inside you, spitting out praise.

"You're doing great baby," or "you look so fucking good for me." He'd coo, with just saying how much he loves you, and parts of you like how your hair was a mess, how perfect it looked when his cock would disappear inside you, or just worshiping your ass.

And most importantly that desperate arch on your back, only making it easier for him to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

The room being filled with the sound of moans, skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bedframe. Laser focused on the overwhelming feeling of your walls around him, fluids dripping down your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

"Fuckk, Kenji, Kenji!" you cried out, making him stutter in his thrusts, hearing his name escape your lips a few times.

Hundreds, thousands, even millions of fans have cried out his name but nothing was quite like that one.

He kept going, this time with quicker, more feverish thrusts making you start to babbel words, "Whyd you stop?" He teased "cmon, who do you belong to?" He said, a sinister laugh following his remark.

"You" you breathed out still being thrusted in and out to, "names baby, I'm gonna need names." He said in a faux pity tone, you didn't even have to turn around to know he had the biggest, dumbest smile on his face right now.

You melted in his grip, you moaned his name again with more passion, feeding that ego of his. Knowing only he was the one making you feel like this, the leg trembling, spot hitting, eye watering kind of sex.

With his player number and last name on your back, he was thinking of finnishing inside and starting a family alredy, making you really his.

But that would be a bit too much to baby trap you, he knew you weren't going anywhere.

Seeing his last name on your back just drove him crazy, sining in the thought that one place, one day, that's gonna be yours too.

He wakes up from his baby fever trance to your voice "Fuck, Kenji... I'm so fucking close" you curse out, your hand meeting his, his other one continually making you bounce against him.

His spare hand layers over yours, holding it against the bedsheets, as he closes the distance once more, his lips right against hers, "Go on, you've earned it." He says before buying his face into the crook of your neck.

At that moment, you started seeing stars

He feels your walls tightening around him and you moan out his name for the final time. Seeing your body tense up and legs shake for him was something he would never forget the feeling of, knowing how good he made you feel never gets old.

His thrusts slow down as you come down from your high. He pulls out stroking his shaft a few times to the view of your fucked out body, using the white opaque liquid as lube, spilling his warm seed onto your curves, some hitting the new jersey by accident.

"Shit, you might want to wash it now." He laughed, you were too tired to make a comment on him alredy cumming on your new jersey.

Minutes pass, maybe around an hour. You see your loving boyfriend bring you your favorite tea "still sore?" He asked, "just a bit.." you reply back.

Now in a new pair of clothes and him snuggling up to you in bed, turning on the TV and putting on both your favorite series.

Truley, the perfect way to end both your days.

●●●

A/N : Haven't posted in a hot minute, I know. Sorry to my followers, I know this is something new, but I swear the bnha fics r coming, there somewhere in my files 😭

A/N : Those who've read in in the first 13 hours actually pointed out there was a typo, so thank you for that <3. I'll try to spell check more diligently since I mostly only write late at night <33

[sanriovin]

hear me out on this one y'all.

imagine yourself coming back home from a hard day at work, right? all overwhelmed, exhausted, annoyed at the world, and so on. as soon as you walk into your shared room though, you see a sight you weren't expecting in the least.

your husband, kento nanami, jerking himself off.

poor man, on his one day off, which were EXTREMELY rare for him, you, as luck had it, had to go to work :( and he was all needy and desperate for you, resorting to masturbating, which he never did often, even more so after the two of you became a couple.

his big, strong, calloused hand from the type of jobs he was involved in, wrapped nicely around his aching, pulsing cock, fisting himself, as pathetic, desperate groans and moans of your name and how good he was feeling left his lips, as his hips bucked up further into his hand from the pleasure he was feeling.

his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, head lolling back into the soft, welcoming pillows, dressed in a gentle linen pillowcase, undoubtedly not even realising that you had came home. the sight before you stirred something inside of you, making the exhaustion and annoyance from the day disappear completely, instead, replacing it with a feeling of your own neediness, and a sense of pride, seeing how your husband could fall apart. it gave you ideas. MANY ideas.

"Kento?" you spoke from your spot at the door, your eyes trailing down your husband's half-nude form; his trousers and boxers gone, his tie loosened, three tops buttons undone from the top.

hearing your voice breaking through the sounds of his ragged breathing, loud grunts of pleasure, and the occasional moan or two, his hand came to a stop, his eyes opened wide, looking at you, with shock, embarrassment, and shame. he couldn't even bring himself to hide his body, in a state of processing what had happened.

placing your bag down on the dresser near the door, you took one step, then another, then another, as you approached your shared bed, your eyes locked onto kento, not looking away for even a mere second, in fear that you would miss even the slightest reaction from your normally composed husband.

he swallowed harshly, audibly, slowly moving his hand away from where it was nicely wrapped around previously, placing it down on the linen clad duvet, averting eye contact with you, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, from either the embarrassment, or the physicality and feelings that masturbation brought, or both?

"I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon." he spoke a quiet apology, seeming genuine with it, but how could you even be mad at him? or how could he even think you would be mad at him?

shaking your head, you moved yourself down onto the bed, situating yourself in between his thighs, watching how his adam's apple bobbed with nervousness and excitement, how a dribble of precum ran down his dick with every tremor that ran down his body.

"You're sorry for what, Kento?" you asked, the question being more of a chastise for him even thinking that he needed to apologise for this, rather than an actual question. in all honesty, seeing your husband like this, undone into a puddle of desperation and lust, was something you would kill to see on a daily, so you were definitely not complaining.

taking a single finger, you trailed it down his thigh, inching closer and closer to the one spot that was the key to getting rid of all his frustrations and stress, even if just for a day. he let out a quiet sigh, watching you with eager eyes, silently pleading with you to do something, anything, to relieve the pulsing ache.

"Do you want me to help you, Kento?" you, once again, gave him a question. your voice was sweet, soft, as if lulling him into a sort of haze. your voice worked like a siren's, bringing him in and in, with only mere words. having him wrapped around your pinky. true, most of the time, nanami preferred to be the dominating one, the one in control, however, he also knew how to let himself be taken care of by others, specifically, you.

"Please, honey, please, I need you so badly." his voice was strained, barely managing to hold himself back; hold himself out for long enough for you to do something.

taking that as your sign to continue, you put a coy little smile on your face, lowering yourself to lay comfortably between his legs on the soft bed, before placing one, single, chaste kiss to his angry, red tip.

he let out a groan in response, head falling back, peeking at you from under his eyelashes, hands trembling slightly at the feeling. your kiss felt good, so good, but it wasn't near enough for what he wanted, no, needed.

"Darling you, fuck, tease..." he groaned out, situating himself to rest on his elbows, so he could see you better, and see what you were up to.

you would have teased him for longer, but the look on his face, one of love, neediness, pure eagerness and desire, was enough to pull you out of your teasing and cruel state, and you decided to help your beloved partner, help him release all the stress within him.

opening your lips, you slowly lowered yourself onto his aching, hardened cock, lowering yourself further and further, as you attempted to take him fully, with, as you soon found out, ended futilely on the first go, with uncovered space still left at his base. however, that alone was enough to cause nanami to let out a low moan, pressing his eyes shut again, letting the darkness consume him as he focused entirely on the pleasure he felt in the moment.

the scene was messy. your drool dribbling down nanami's sensitive cock, the tip of it pressed and poked against the back of your throat, trying to push further and further, however, it was stopped through the tightening of your throat, and the sounds of gags and chokes on his large size.

he gently moved one of his hands to rest on your head, not pushing, not pressing down, just trying to ground himself to reality from the immense pleasure he felt. "Sweetheart, it feels so good... You're doing so well..."

nanami kento has a way with words. a way that made you feel eager and excited to pleasure him, to satisfy him, in hopes of getting more and more praise.

trying to breathe through your nose, you slowly relaxed your throat, bobbing your head up and down, attempting to inch further and further down his large dick, holding onto his thighs with trembling hands, as your tongue swirled around his leaking tip, which resulted in a loud, higher pitched moan than before from nanami.

the moan was all you needed to proceed with your actions, desperately trying to bring your beloved to the edge of release, as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on his cock so well he could practically see stars in his eyes.

taking one of your hands, you gingerly brought it to his balls, beginning to slowly mess and play with them, testing new waters to see if it would have the desired effect on nanami.

and it did not fail.

in mere seconds, nanami was falling apart on the bed, his legs trembling pathetically, his hips jerking up to your mouth, his back on the bed, his arms having lost all strength to support himself. curses, moans, and groans of your name kept spilling from his mouth, as not once did he open his eyes. hot spurts of his cum landed in your mouth, on your tongue, as you began to taste the salty yet slightly bitter taste of it on your tongue.

letting him ride out high long-awaited orgasm, you took all that he gave you, only pulling off once you saw his body laying practically limp on the bed, regaining himself from the experience.

but, of course, he was a gentleman at heart. he wouldn't let such a favour go unrewarded, oh no, he couldn't have that.

"How about you let me pleasure you now, love? What do you say?"

(author's note: finished writing this after finishing AOT S3 - the ending hurt so bad that i couldn't even cry)