#Look at all of them staring so lovingly at their Captain

[imperatorrrrr]

tag yourself, I’m the yellow M&M

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[roosterr]

hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

[part two]

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 14 - Next

"Today you look much better."

You mentioned Curly smiling at you and resting your forehead against his.

"You've stopped smelling like a cremated corpse, it must feel so good to have clean bandages and your wounds disinfected."

You closed your eyes with a smile, enjoying being close to him without having to move away because of the overwhelming stench he used to emit.

Curly: "...I...wa...wann..."

You suddenly opened your eyes upon hearing the sound of a voice, leaned back, and fell backward to the ground with the chair and all.

"No! Don't you dare! Don't do that again! That scared me!"

You stood up and quickly adjusted the chair to sit back down in front of him.

You opened his jaw to see his tongue and pressed it with your thumb to be able to see his throat.

"Nu-uh, your throat is still damaged, don't talk, I don't care."

He let out a huff when you said that.

"Did you just huff at me??? In these conditions, are you giving me an attitude??"

For some reason, it seemed like he was enjoying your reaction.

"Oh, you like seeing me angry now?? What are you trying to do?" 

You raised your hands when you asked that question, and he kept staring at your left hand, letting out a murmur upon noticing the rings on it.

"Mm? This? I found it when I tried to see if anything could be useful from the cockpit..."

You looked at your hand, seeing the rings, you had almost completely forgotten that you had his with you.

You took it out slowly and showed it to him up close.

"Now I'm not so angry about the fortune you spent on these rings, if they withstood an explosion they are of very good quality."

You smiled at him, lovingly observing the ring, remembering the day he proposed to you and knowing that from that moment your life would change forever.

"Who would have thought we would end up like this? Mm? I can say it, when I was little I never imagined I would go to space. Although i did dream of a handsome husband"

You could notice a hint of sadness in the sigh he gave, quite aware of his current state and that he would never be the same man as before.

"Do you still have doubts? If I will still be by your side when we return home?" 

His gaze turned to you when you mentioned that, it wasn't a lie, he had been thinking about that possibility.

"Do you think the only thing that made me fall in love with you was your pretty little face? Can't you believe that I can still love you seeing you like this?"

You smiled, resting your forehead against his again, looking directly into his eye.

"I didn't believe it either, when you met me, I was a mess, a drug addict, disheveled, stinky, and with a terrible attitude, I have to admit it... But that didn't stop you from falling in love with me, did it?" 

He rolled his eye to try to avoid your gaze.

You put his ring back on your ring finger next to yours.

"The day he wants to leave you, I'll take off this ring, okay? Until then, I don't want you to worry." 

You kissed his forehead, ready to go get the rations for the day.

Curly: "...I... I- I'm sho-.rry..."

"What did I just tell you a few minutes ago?? Nothing to talk about." 

You crossed your arms and shook your head.

Curly: "...I lo..ve you..."

Hearing those words again after so long, your cheeks began to burn, you turned your face because you didn't want him to see you with tears in your eyes, about to cry from joy.

"Me too! Don't forget it!"

You mentioned loudly, quickly leaving that room, took a deep breath, and leaned against the wall, unable to believe you were reacting the same way as when he first told you.

Daisuke: "Captain, are you okay?"

"Ah-! Daisuke, don't just show up out of nowhere! What do you need?"

Daisuke: "Do you want to swap my meat noodles for your cheese ones?"

He smiled, showing you the package of his food; it seemed that Swansea had gotten ahead and had already distributed the rations.

"Sure, sure... Go change it."

Daisuke: "Thank you! You're the best!"

You sighed, resting your head against the wall.

"Just a little more... I'm already getting sick of that food... I need to cook something real..."

[samodivaa]

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?” 

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James” 

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky” 

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 04:01 ⏤ALWAYS SAFE

SUM. : you bring james his lunch that you cooked yourself and almost get injured

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; very angry james ; protective james ; team training ; drill accidents ; reader being caring and sweet ; reader is wifey material ; james is husband material

LENGTH : 0.8k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“James!” you shout across the rink, standing by one of your boyfriend’s coaches, Richard, who’s become like an uncle to you. The hockey captain doesn’t stop, however, unable to hear past the whistling wind by his ears atop his thick and sturdy headgear.

“Gonna have to shout louder than that, little lady ,” the older man chuckles, adjusting the cap on his head of silvering hair. 

You ponder to yourself for a moment before smirking, which makes Richard arch a curious brow at you, “Darling!” The instant you call across the ice rink, you see James’ head whip towards you before he grins widely behind the front guard of his head gear. Behind him, the rest of his team come to a skidding halt and also look over to your waving and cheering figure. You’ve become quite familiar with all of his teammates and they love to tease their captain for being so head over heels for you so the team begin snickering to themselves, some even cheekily whistling and nudging at James who pays them no mind, his sole focus fixed onto you.

“Baby!” he cheers, delight and excitement evident in his voice before he speeds his way over to you. Richard whistles for the rest of the team to run short drills while the ‘lovely couple’ have their lunch. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you gnaw at your bottom lip regretfully, a guilty look taking over your expression as James hurriedly takes off his headgear and gloves, revealing his sweat-soaked locks matted down and clinging onto his forehead, “Richard told me you didn’t eat anything-” because you wanted to wait for me…

“Don’t worry about it,” James says gently, his smile just as bright but much softer as he takes in your sweet expression. There’s so much love in his gaze, you feel your own heart bursting at the seams to attempt at reciprocating his adoration. James brings a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his kind stare; even though he appears sweaty, dishevelled and rugged from training, he’s just as handsome as ever, “you sounded really excited over the phone about cooking my lunch for me,” a heat crawls up your neck and explodes across your cheeks as James grins, his eyes staring lovingly at you, “and I was just as excited to eat what you so graciously cooked instead of the canteen food here,” James giggles to himself, dopey and carefree, “you cooked it just for me~ I’m so lucky~” 

You returned his wide grin and felt yourself losing your will to hide his surprise. He didn’t know it but you were only late because you went and bought his favourite treacle tart from his favourite bakery across town.  

“Actually~” you begin to reach down so that you can present the bakery take out box when you suddenly see James pull back, his spine fully erect as his eyes and ears become fully alert. The words were on your tongue, ready to question his odd behaviour when he suddenly shoots his arm up to the side; just as you were beginning to register a faint whistle in your ear, it was followed by a resounding WHHHIIIIP!

In James’s stretched out hand was a hockey puck. And it was on a one way course of high velocity towards you. Seeing this, anger flares up like the fuse of an explosive ready to violently detonate in James’s eyes.

“SHE’S! MY! FUCKING! GIRLFRIEND! WATCH IT! YOU FAT FUCK!” James’s booming voice cuts through the air and silences all activity on the rink, not only that but he was easily able to narrow down the perpetrator of the hazardous stray puck, “...WELL?!! SAY SOMETHING YOU DICK!” you look past James’s figure and lock eyes with guilty brown pools, likely the offender of your potential accident.

“S-sorry,” you hear his teammate stutter, which you accept with a small nod and place a gentle hand on James’s arm, attempting to calm him down and bring his attention back to you. As he slowly turns to you again, James slams the puck to the ground and kicks it away with his ice skate. 

“Are you okay, angel?” James asks, his voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the booming, angry shout he just projected. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” your warm voice visibly soothes the hockey team captain and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, “...accidents happen James, please don’t lash out on the poor g-”

“Accident or not, hurting you— almost hurting you is deserving of a beat down from hell,”

Looking into his hostile but worried hazel eyes, you silently express your objection alongside some appreciation too. You’re thankful for his worry, his aggression over your safety even makes your heart flutter but he’s better than any violence. It takes a moment but James finally sighs and nods, a silent promise to watch himself and stay civil. 

Smiling softly, you lean up to kiss his lips, “thank you for saving me,” his lips smile against yours. 

“You’re always safe with me, princess,”

NAVI.

A/N : im a bit rusty on writing since i haven’t been able to write for a while from stressful home stuff but here’s me trying to get back into it with another ice hockey james au (inspired by another tiktok). hopefully, this will get me in the headspace to write good requests from my milestone event.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[fanaticsnail]

Just a short prompt idea for Garp: Either first Valentines day with him or first anniversary.

Bouquet of Red Roses

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Your work day was interrupted by an open display of devotion from your lover, something you both agreed was for the best to keep secret from your colleagues.

Themes: Garp x f!reader, feelings, established relationship, secret relationship, domesticity, act of devotion, fluff, kisses.

Notes: I had this sitting in my ask box for a little while. Really felt like I needed to pay the Vice-Admiral some attention.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Hands racing atop the wafer-thin paper, and eyes darting over the finer printed words of the latest outlined information from headquarters, you barely noticed the uncommon presence of flowers being placed on your desk. You held up your index finger, continuing to skim over the words with a simple command to the person arriving at your desk.

“Just a second,” you informed them, lifting up your pen and scratching a few markings on your notepaper beside you. Withdrawing your hand from the air, you shuffled the papers and placed them within a manilla folder to get the outline ready for your boss in his office. 

Upon floating your eyes up, you were immediately taken aback by the presence of your boss, Vice-Admiral Garp of the marine base. His smile drew up his face as he noticed your eyes meet his, his hand balling itself into a fist around the stems of the bouquet in his hands. Retracting his hands from your desk, and leaving the flowers behind in its wake, he stooped into a short nodded bow.

Immediately rising from your desk, you saluted the Vice-Admiral and stood at attention to receive a reprimand and formal scolding for your abrasive attitude towards a superior. All he offered was a soft chuckle in response, with him waving to the floor with his right hand and gesturing for you to halt your formal stance. 

“At ease, officer,” he snickered with a wolfy grin. You laced your hands behind your back, square your shoulders in a swift rotation, and gulped back your anticipation. He shook his head, looking down to the folder on your desk and tilted his head to the side. 

“This the list of new transfers and recruits?” he asked, arching his brow up and reading the titled page. You responded with a curt, “Aye, Sir,” and continued staring straight ahead. You met the eyes of his two proteges behind him, the pink-haired Captain offering you a soft smile, whereas the blonde-haired swordsman’s face remained stoic and vacant. 

“Bogard already in my office, Lass?” he asked you, stepping around your desk to get a better look at the folder and your writing. With a swift, polite nod, you offered him another disciplined, “Aye, Sir,” in response. Garp smiled, nodding his head towards his office and making eye contact with Koby and Helmeppo, wordlessly ordering them through the doors to meet with Bogard. 

As the two younger members left your desk and shut Garp’s door behind them, you finally looked down and noticed the bouquet of red roses placed delicately on your desk. Sprigs of baby’s breath, leaves of fine emerald ferns shot out amongst the soft opening of red bulbs of fresh roses. The scent wafted from your desk to the place you were standing at his side, your eyes once again depicted shock.

“Sir?” you asked, cocking your head to the side, “There are flowers on my desk.” Garp hummed in thought, leaning his hips on the desk and gazing lovingly at you from his position anchored against the wooden surface. 

“Aye, so there is,” he admitted with a soft smile. He reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, softly caressing your cheek and earning him an inquisitive smile from you in return. You swatted his hand away from your face and hushed your voice in a soft whisper.

“You said we weren’t going to bring this to the office, Sir,” you warned him with your soft scolding. His eyes held mischief with a soft gaze of love and affection. He collected your hand within his, looking between your eyes and softly flickering down to your lips.

“Aye, that I did,” he admitted softly, stepping closer to you and holding your hip with his unoccupied hand. He gently thumbed over your hip in a soft circle, caressing the joint raised on your waist and stepping closer to you.

“You said it wasn’t appropriate to openly display our relationship, Sir,” you tilted your chin away from him and warned him with your eyes, “Said it was unbecoming of an officer to be dating above their station. Showing favoritism, and all that.” 

“Aye, I said that too,” he confessed, his eyes creasing up at the corners as he leaned down towards you and attempted to kiss you. You pulled your hand out of his grip and placed your fingertips over his lips to halt his descent. 

“What changed, Vice-Admiral?” you pushed him a little with your hand, prompting him to smile beneath your fingertips. He pursed his lips under your hand, pressing a soft kiss against your fingers. 

Circling his hand around your forearm, he began mapping your skin with his lips in a slow descent of soft, intentional kisses. Without further warning, he kept tracing higher and higher up your arm while watching your hardening resolve break from your face and your smile grew wider and less withheld. 

He devoted his lips to bringing more of your smile to the surface, his mustache and beard tickling your skin and prompting you to giggle. Each of your soft laughs were as good as any trophy or medal he received in combat. His smile pressed into your skin, finally making his way up to the pulse-point in your neck and halting at that point for a moment beyond a simple touch.

“Can a man no’ spoil his wee bonnie on his anniversary?” he whispered huskily into your skin, shooting tingles up your spine and igniting a soft rise of goose flesh at the scruff of your neck. You finally gave in to his advances in the office, hooking your hands around his neck and drawing his face up to see yours. 

Pressing your lips against his, you parted your mouth and gasped your desires in soft moans against his skin. He smiled at your display and snuck his tongue beyond your bottom lip and began to caress yours in a dance of passion. The surroundings of your office and paperwork slowly dissipated from your sights the longer your lips lingered together. 

Upon pulling away, you pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes upon impact. Drawing his arms over your back, he held you closely and slowly nuzzled against your skin.

“Happy anniversary, Lass,” he uttered softly. His cologne rose to your nose as he held you firmly against him. Brushing his nose lightly with yours, he collected your lips against his for a soft, chaste kiss with more passion than the last. 

“Happy anniversary, Love,” you responded to him, looking up through half-hooded lashes to float your gaze over his scarred face. “Go to your office and leave me to sift through my reports.” He chuckled in response, giving your ass a playful slap in response. 

“I din’nae take your orders here, Bon,” he smirked at your soft yelp at the touch, pressing another kiss to your lips before withdrawing his proximity, “Home is another tale entirely.” You gave his chest a gentle tap in response, earning you a huff of mock pain and his hand clasping over his heart.

“Ye’ wound me,” he chuckled, shaking his head and removing himself from his place by your side. “But I’ll take ye’ scolding,” he began making his move to leave your desk, your gaze floating to the folder still remaining on your desk. 

“Garp,” you whispered, retrieving the folder and thrusting it forward into his hand, “Don’t forget this.” He gently took your wrist in his with his right hand, the folder in his left, and stooped to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“This is why I love you,” he whispered against your bones, rising from his bow and turning towards his office. Shaking your head, you move to sit back down at your desk and continue your work. 

The bouquet of red roses brought you joy throughout your working day, noticing the world became brighter for you the longer the scent of florals lingered beyond the margin of your stationary. You could not wait to celebrate your anniversary with your love after your shifts both finished, both of you eagerly anticipating the events to come as the night fell into soft darkness.

[chaosandmarigolds]

(clears throat) ahem, I have a little dribble drabble cause I needed to fully write it out cause I'm in a silly goofy mood

“Hey- Tinker bell. Tink.” 

Reluctantly you left your gaze on the obscure piece of metal, which you thought may be from a carburetor you weren’t sure though, that you had been given by your Liuetnatnt (and you were beginning to think he gave it to you just to shut you up) and you look at the Scotsman that sat across from you on the workbench. It was barely four in the morning, and while he had just woken up for his morning…whatever, you had been up the entire night, with the pile of paperwork the captain had you doing and a routine maintenance you procrastinated with; an all-nighter was the only option. 

So when the ‘boys’ (a term you not so lovingly adopted for the unit) woke up you were met with a few grumpy grumbles and one very awake man, somehow the sight of them triggered a second wind so you ended up going on a forty-minute tangent about LTV’s to your Lieutenant, who- now you realize- grabbed a random piece of metal and asked you what it was. Clever, because it had shut you up but mildly infuriating. With a sleepy stare, you look at Johnny, “No.” 

“No what?” He quipped back. 

“No callsigns, I don’t want one, don’t need one...” 

You hear a small stifled laugh and then Kyle’s voice is heard from what you assumed was inside on of the trucks, “Too late for that.” 

To those words you spin to face the truck, pretending to be unfazed by Kyle sitting on the hood of it, happily sipping what you assumed to be an energy drink of some sort. “The fuck does that mean?” 

“Means er’ a Tinker bell, ‘ever that is.” Out of all the people you expected to be in on this you didn’t expect your Luietant, so when he spoke up from where he was looking through the files you had just turned in you shot him a glare. 

“Like from Peter Pan.” You speak slowly and look back at Johnny, who seemed oddly content with himself. 

“Well more ‘o ‘cause she does lot ‘o thin’s with her hands, ya’know? Like she-she built tha’ boat in the one fairie mo’ie.” 

At the very least everyone's attention wasn’t on you anymore, because as soon as Johnny spoke everyone looked at him. Through the harsh lighting and even though the mask made his eyes look more like voids of nothingness, you could see Ghost’s eyes narrow to his friend’s oblivious expression, meanwhile, Kyle didn’t try to hide his confused yet amused stare. 

You move to look at the man and lean forward, “Johnny, I didn’t know you had sisters.” 

“Yeah, got two lil’- oh.”

yeah thats it, <3

[cyberpxnk]

jealous | song mingi (2/2)

♡  part one

(can be read standalone.)

♡ pairing: mingi x fem! reader (afab) ♡ chapters: 2 out of 2 ♡ word count: 4.3k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ genre: pwp, smut, established relationship 

♡ synopsis: Nothing could have prepared you for the ray of pink that was Song Mingi when you walked through the door at that moment. 

♡ warnings/tags: idol! mingi, pink! mingi, brief mentions of ateez, san + woo being lil shits, shameless smut, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, cock warming, slight somnophilia, pussy eating/cunnilingus, biting, hair pulling, minor overstim, size kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, name calling, breeding kink if u squint, creampie

♡ author’s note: 

kinda proof read but again, not rly... hehe :3

howdy again, friends! here is the conclusion to jealous. i hope you all enjoy as much as the first chapter! :3 i had a lot of fun writing this one. seeing all the support has really been encouraging!!

When you step into the stylist's corner that evening, you aren't sure what to expect after overhearing the boy's discussions the previous night. Amidst themselves they chatted animatedly about the possibility of different colored hair. Their rush of words only left you with an undying curiosity as to what you would see today in the hair salon. Unfortunately, none of them seemed too keen on sharing with you, even after your insistent probing.

The time they spent with neutral tones was surprisingly short and they were all too soon being ushered back to the stylists for their new looks. If you had a say, you would have easily protested the idea — given how much you loved Mingi with natural looking hair… but alas.

And sure, most of them had practically gone through the entire rainbow at that point but nothing could have prepared you for the ray of pink that was Song Mingi when you walked through the door at that moment.

Eyes wide with surprise and bewilderment, you're bouncing over to the tall man, practically gushing and cooing as you take in his new appearance. His hair is shorter now, shorter than you've ever seen. The wisps that previously framed his handsome and sharp features are nothing but choppy and sporadic.

"Wow," is all that you can utter as your fingers card through his freshly dyed locks. A low hum of approval comes from him. You stand behind him, staring at him through the mirror he sits before. In the reflection, he's meeting your bright eyes as he beams with a newfound radiance, noting how smitten you seemed.

"Do you like it, babe?" Mingi preens, leaning into your gentle affections as you're stroking his scalp lovingly.

"You look... Uh. Wow." A deep laugh rumbles from his large frame upon hearing your lack of words.

"I look hot, huh?" Pursing your lips, you choose not to reply as you catch the teasing hint behind his words. His statement shakes you from your charmed stupor, as if you're just now remembering how your lovable boyfriend is also oh so insufferable.

"What about meeee~? Do I look good?" You ignore San's whine in the background.

Grasping a fistful of Mingi's hair, you give a playful tug and he lets out a pained noise of complaint.

"Ow! Sorry, sorry… You know I’m just joking."

"You're so annoying, Min." Smoothing out his rosy tufts, you pat his head once and step away to observe some of the others as they're scattered about the salon.

Only a few of the members are in today, most of them having opted to keep their more natural styles. Upon further inspection, you note that only Mingi, Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung are present.

The captain's head is tipping back and forth as he's snoozing peacefully within his chair. You can see they're still lifting his hair, him having fallen asleep as the light color processes. You smile. It would definitely look good once finished.

Not wanting to disturb his beauty sleep, you sneak around him and weave your way toward San and Wooyoung.

Akin to the devil himself San has his teeth bared in the widest grin, dimple showing as he tilts his head toward you, beckoning for you to pet him just as you did with Mingi.

"San, why are even you here? They didn't do anything to your hair."

"It's just a little styling and trimming. See!" The man kicks off the ground and swivels in his chair, spinning a bit to show himself off from all angles. You can't really tell any difference. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him and snicker alongside Wooyoung as you both ignore his antics.

"It looks good, right? I'm so handsome, right?" San knits his eyebrows together and juts out his lips, offering you his signature pouty face.

"Right, right?"

"Yes, yes. You're so handsome, Sannie. So handsome with your silly little trim."  Though the sarcasm of your statements are blatantly obvious, he has never seemed more pleased. So pleased in fact, that he grasps your hand and places it atop his head before he begins nuzzling into your palm. He really did have some cat like tendencies.

You let out an exasperated sigh and open your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by your lover.

"Dude! Get your own girlfriend!" Having witnessed the entire charade from his corner, Mingi is on his feet now and you swear you can see steam coming from his ears. You know San's jokes are mostly for shits and giggles, but you do feel a little bad seeing your boyfriend so riled up.

It was only a few weeks ago you had your asses chewed out by management after what you and San planned. Not to mention Hongjoong was on his last nerve and would definitely limit your visitations if you pulled another stunt like that.

Despite knowing the repercussions, San chooses to ignore the rapper as he grins, hand cupped over his mouth while he's leaning over to his partner in crime, whispering to the other.

"Watch him wake up Captain and get into deep shit again." They both snicker.

"Aw, is the big pink princess jealous?" Shooting a look of warning to the pair, you rush over to Mingi.

"San, you directly contributed to our ‘deep shit,’ so I don't wanna hear it!" Stepping closer to the fuming giant, you run your hands along his arms, trying to soothe his anger. His own limbs immediately wind around your waist, pulling you against his solid chest protectively.

"He's just messing with you again, baby."

"I know," he says through grit teeth.

"I'll make it up to you tonight," you murmur into his ear softly, giving his lobe a gentle nip. Upon hearing your words, his eyes darkened considerably. He squeezes you once.

Thankfully, this seems to pacify his temper as he settles down, allowing you to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You better."  Without another word, the man returns to his seat. The tension visibly falls from his shoulders, a pleased smile stretching across his features at the thought of your promise for later.

Unfortunately, you're left to deal with San's taunting again once Mingi comfortably slouches into his chair, ignoring everyone as he begins to play around with his phone.

"I'll make it up to you later," San parrots in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"You better." Wooyoung follows his mimicry and the pair burst into an obnoxious fit of giggles. Woo's laughter raises an octave higher as they're both slapping each other around and squirming hilariously in their chairs, making kissy faces.

Two grown ass men. You shake your head and sigh.

The commotion causes Hongjoong to stir. The smaller man rouses from his sleep, rubbing his eyes tiredly as his bleary glare lands on the troublesome duo.

"You two are so loud. You think I would be used to it by now."

Everyone falls silent when they finally realize their captain has awoken. His sleepy gaze sweeps over the room, eyebrows cocking up in surprise when he notes that Mingi seems to be the most behaved of the bunch. That was not typical, but he wouldn't dwell on it.  There's a curt nod in your direction, as if he’s giving you kudos for trying to keep the boys in line.

"Behave, kids."  Hongjoong leaves them a single warning, too tired to chastise them as his droopy eyes fall shut, the drowsiness overtaking him once more.

The bickering has died down now and everyone is left to their own muses, the previous playful encounters momentarily forgotten as a comfortable silence overtakes the room.

Another half hour passes by in a breeze and it's not long before you're all filing back into a company van to return home. Shuffling between each member, you're quick to buckle into your seat beside Mingi and no sooner is the vehicle veering out of the driveway toward the direction of the dorms.  

As the van takes off the street lights fade in passing, blurring beneath the night sky. The sight has your eyelids growing heavy, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted from your day's events. You don't seem to realize how tired you are until your cheek falls on your lover's broad shoulder.

Blinking at the sudden weight on him, Mingi turns slightly to look at you before a fond smile overtakes his face once he sees you dozing off. A warmth spreads within his chest as he takes in your delicate features, cooing lovingly before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Sleep tight, baby."

The first time you awake that night you don't register the feeling of his lips trailing along your shoulder. Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with mostly darkness, only a sliver of the moonlight peeking from the window. You can feel the springs of a mattress beneath you and the familiarity of Mingi's lean body pressed to your back. Like most nights, he holds you from behind, effectively caging you in his arms.

Though you don't recall the man carrying you from the car to the dorm, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. This wasn't the first occasion where you had knocked out on the ride home. Mingi was all too used to hauling your ass back to his room and readying you for bed — which mostly just consisted of him stripping you to your undergarments and tucking you in.

With your current state of undress, the man beside you feels particularly restless. He fidgets once, then twice. You squeeze his arm gently and that's all it takes for his curious hands to begin roaming upon your bare skin, ghosting along your hips and stomach before he's cupping one of your breasts to fondle between his palm, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

A quiet and tired whine falls from your lips and you're soon shifting against the bed, your panty clad ass brushing against him. Feeling your movements he involuntarily bucks against you and even through the fabric of delicates separating you, you feel the weight of his half hard cock against your backside.  

His lips find purchase on your neck once more, eager to paint a pattern of his love bites on the skin. There are fading marks from days prior and he's readily retracing over the hickeys with teeth and tongue. The thrill of showing others his claim was simply his favorite.

Despite the desire that throbs between your thighs, you find yourself too drowsy to reciprocate, only just barely grinding yourself against him as he continues to grope at your body and rut against you.

"Fuck," he curses between wet kisses along your nape.

There is an air of impatience in his actions and he's hurriedly fumbling around with his boxers, freeing his erection from its confines. It slaps up against one of your cheeks and you can feel his precum leaking through your underwear.

Mingi is unable to help himself as he pulls your panties to one side, lining himself along your slit before he's slowly sheathing his thick cock past your walls, already wet and coated with your arousal. Even in your dazed state, you feel a surprised moan bubbling from your throat as you begin to clutch onto the bed sheets when your cunt stretches deliciously around him to accommodate his size.

Consumed by the feeling of your walls clenching around him, a pleased growl spills from your lover's lips. The grip he has on your waist returns and soon he's bottoming out within you, pelvic bone flush to your ass as he's relishing the heat that hugs his length so tightly.

Gods, your pussy felt like the heavens to him. Mingi knew he could come then and there if he lacked any self control. The position which you both lay presents him with a different angle to fuck you, dragging against your cunt in a way that has his length throbbing within you. His eyes nearly roll back at the feeling.

Though he's enraptured in a state of pleasure, he doesn't budge against you, only breathing heavily against your neck as his fingers stroke circles into your hips. Normally, there is an encouraging noise or movement from you after you adjust to his size, but the silence that follows has his concerns raising slightly.

"Babe?"

It's only several seconds later that Mingi hears the sound of your light snoring. Unbelievable... With you having fallen back to sleep he resigns in defeat and hugs you closer to him, closing his eyes as he tries to follow suit, his hard cock still stuffed within you.

The second time you wake up, it's still dark within the room but the beginnings of sun rising glimmer past the window curtains. Huh? You find your body is feeling unusually hot and you're panting softly, eyes heavily lidded.

Drowsiness still overpowers you as you’re blindly reaching around for Mingi. His body has since disappeared from your side and only now do you register the feeling of his weight against your legs.

A scratchy moan rips from your throat when you glance down. You're met with the sight of pink hair disappearing between your thighs and it sends a tremor of arousal through you, shaking you awake. The two of you had discussed this scenario many times prior, but you were beyond thrilled to finally have it happen.

“M-Mingi?” Your throat is hoarse and dry, though you don't know if it's from having just woken up or from seeing the sinful sight of your lover languidly lapping at your pussy. You’re unsure of how long he's been awake, but the mess that has accumulated beneath you was evidence enough — fluids having trailed down from your heat, seeping into the bedsheets.

The man hums in acknowledgement, his tongue delving past your dripping folds as he hungrily begins to eat you out. Now that you were awake, he wouldn’t hold back. His mouth moves with fervor, tongue swiping along your cunt as he greedily drinks in your juices.

“You said you would make it up to me.” Between kissing your clit and dragging the flat of his tongue against your wetness, he rumbles deeply against you. He just barely lifts his head and meets your stare with a heated look, pupils blown wide, the desire and want evidently swirling within his lustful eyes.

When he nudges his nose against your clit, your legs tremble, closing slightly as they tighten around his head, earning a pleased and muffled noise from him. Your hand finds its way down to his head as you begin to buck into his face, fingers gripping at the rosy locks.

His own hands palm at the globes of your ass, cupping each cheek fully as he lifts your pussy closer to his face. Mingi is ravenous as he eats you out. His mouth traces over every inch of your cunt, tongue sloppily laving against your folds, his actions akin to a starved man.

At this point, you're wide awake and squirming with pleasure. With his grip holding you up, your back arches off the mattress and no sooner you’re driving your hips into his face, shamelessly bucking against his mouth. He’s diving into you with reckless abandon and it's only when you feel his lips latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves that you're turning your head to muffle your cries into the pillow under you.

Knowing how vocal you were, you had to keep quiet as the boys could wake at any moment. You couldn't risk getting in trouble again. Even so, your face is pressed to the pillow and you're biting the fabric of the pillow case as you're fisting Mingi’s hair. You can barely contain the lewd noises that Mingi elicits from you.

The muffled sounds that come from you grow increasingly louder when you feel him circling your clit with his tongue. The way he alternates between licking and sucking you has you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

When your thighs finally begin to shake in his grasp, he knows you're close. Mingi’s mouth doesn't leave your clit even as you're grinding harder into his face. Swiftly one of his hands dips between your legs, two fingers fucking into you as he drives you to your orgasm. The combined stimulus pushes you over the edge and you’re cumming hard on his face.

You sob into the pillow, writhing wildly as your fluids spill from your pussy onto his face. His mouth finally leaves your swollen clit as he savors the taste of your release, groaning into your cunt while he begins to tongue fuck you once more. The taste of your essence is sweet, irresistible; and only for him to have.

When Mingi has finally had enough, you're already nearing your second orgasm. You’re breathing hard and trying to recover as the waves of pleasure roll through your body.  The man lifts his head from your legs and you swallow thickly at the sight of him.

There is still a carnal hunger that glitters beneath his stare. Your eyes trace the angles of his face, following down the curve of his nose until they land on his mouth, watching as his tongue darts out to lick some remnants of your juices from his lips. Even in the dark, you can see the way your own release glistens on his cheeks and chin.

The look he gives you has a wave of arousal pooling in your belly, burning so hot that you're already locking your legs around his torso. Mingi roughly cleans his face with one arm and wipes it onto his bedsheets.  

You’re about to protest, but the complaint dies in your throat as he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses up your body. He starts below your navel and ghosts past your ribs next. Similarly, his large hands stroke up to your legs as he holds them in place.

As he moves up your body, your pussy drags along the ripples of his muscles, leaving a line of your wetness down his abs. He begins grazing past your nipples and he teases along the slopes of your breasts before he reaches your lips. His mouth connects to yours, all too eager to taste you. Now that your bodies are level to each other, your thighs naturally rest around his waist.

From this position you can feel the weight of his thick cock laying heavily against your messy cunt, his length coated with your slick arousal. Grinding against each other, the friction between your loins has you both gasping out between kisses. His tongue finds yours all too easily, labored breaths against each other’s mouths.

When he parts from you, there is a string of saliva that stretches between you. After your first orgasm, you already looked so fucked out laying beneath him. Your breasts are heaving with each gasp of pleasure and your hips wiggle against his impatiently. He groans at the sight, cock twitching.

“Think you can take more, doll?”

“Please, Mingi…” Under his gaze, you're trembling with want and need. Mingi loves when he hears your pathetic whines laden with desire, especially with the way your voice goes up a pitch when you're desperate to have him filling you.

“Baby girl wants to be stuffed with my big dick, yeah?” A taunting smirk overtakes his features.

“Mingi, need you inside me. Please…”  You squirm beneath him, pressing yourself closer to his body, flush to the shaft of his aching erection.

“Love how you beg for me every night. You're such a slut for me, with the way your tight little cunt molds so well around my cock.”

The deep treble of his voice has you moaning softly, your body heating up from the dirty words that escape him. He feels the way you gush more fluids onto his length, growing more wet as he praises you.  

“Be a good girl and take my big cock, mmm?”

As the last word falls from his lips, he’s sinking himself into your dripping hole. Mingi is slow and calculated, enjoying the drag along your folds as you begin to stretch around his thickness. From this angle he sees the way your cunt swallows him, his cock buried inside you.

You both moan breathily as he fills you to the hilt, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. The grip of your thighs tightens around his waist as you're trying to drive him deeper within you.

“God, such a good girl. You always take me so well, baby.”

“M-Mingi,” you mewl back at him, feeling entirely full from his large size splitting you apart. He doesn’t need to adjust this time, knowing your second orgasm still looms closely. You're high on the pleasure and you're already grinding into him.

“See how big I am inside you?” The sight beneath him is almost too much. Within you his dick is twitching and throbbing as your walls envelope him. He hovers above you just slightly, creating space between your bodies to give you a view of what nearly sends him into a frenzy.

Obediently your eyes flit down to follow his stare and you can see the outline of his big cock against your lower belly. Your cunt clenches at the sight and he involuntarily thrusts a single time.  

“So big… feel so full of your cock,” you gasp at him, eyes fluttering with pleasure as you're reveling in the feeling of his size. He pulls his hips back, slowly beginning to pump himself within you as you’re both watching the outline of his girth moving back and forth.

“Fuuuck.” Mingi throws his head back, cursing lowly as he begins to pick up his pace.

Your arms wind around his neck and you’re clutching onto him as you bury your face into his shoulder. The sight of him within you is forgotten once you're both beginning to chase your climax.

The grip Mingi has on your ass is bruising as he starts to pound himself within your pussy. His tempo has picked up speed as the pleasure continues to build. The sound of his cock squelching against your dripping folds is loud as is the sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

Each thrust has his pelvis dragging against your already sensitive clit. You're trying to meet his movements best you can, but you're so far gone with pleasure that you simply hang off him as he plows into your aching cunt.

“S-So… good,” you blubber out as you begin to drool on his shoulder.

His palms are suddenly hooking under your knees as he pushes your legs back, effectively folding you into yourself as he begins to fuck himself into you harder. Your hands fall from him at this new position and you're desperately fisting the bedsheets when he begins to slam himself back into you.

The new angle has his cock hitting your g spot, each plunge on his length sending you closer and closer into euphoria. You begin chanting his name, each syllable growing louder in volume until he has to silence you with his mouth.

You're both moaning through the lip lock, tongues entangled in a passionate dance as he rocks himself into you. You know he's close with the way his grip is beginning to slack around your legs. Even then, his pace doesn't let up as he begins to snap his hips harder against you. In between kisses, you begin to coax him closer to his release.

“Need your cum… please, Mingi!” The guttural moan that escapes him resonates through your core, fluids gushing around his cock as he starts fucking you faster.

“Fuck, baby girl… You want me to fill you up? Does my needy slut want to be stuffed full of cum?”

He’s merciless with his movements as he sets an unrelenting pace, desperate to chase his orgasm. The harder he ruts into you, the more your pussy clenches around him.

“Yes, Mingi. Please!”

Hearing your admission, you can feel the way his moves are no longer calculated — a sloppy and erratic rhythm overtaking his movements. Still, each push of his throbbing length slamming against your g spot has your entire body alight with fire.

The pressure is building within you, ready to snap at any moment. Only seconds later you're unraveling beneath him, your second orgasm flooding you as you thrash and moan whilst cumming against his cock, walls squeezing around him impossibly tight. Your juices flood around him, the sounds of your wetness growing louder as he bucks harder.

The feeling of your cunt gripping and convulsing around him sends him into a craze and he fucks into you harder and harder until he's pumping you full his release. Even as he's painting your walls full of his cum, he cannot help himself but to roll his hips a bit longer, riding out his peak as he pushes his seeds deeper within your cunt. The cum begins to spill over, drooling out from your pussy as he finally stills his movements.

After several seconds, he drops your legs and collapses on top of you. You grunt at his weight but bring a hand up to gently stroke his hair. Both of you pant heavily as you try to recover from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm, exhaustion sweeping over you. His hands are carefully kneading around your hips while his head rests between your breasts, nuzzling into them affectionately.

“Love you, babe. Thanks for making it up to me.”

You kiss the top of his head.

“Yeah, yeah.. Love you too. Even if you did interrupt my sleep…”

You both knew the bed was in a state of disarray but you were both too tired to care at the moment, beginning to fall asleep in a pool of your mixed juices.

It’s not even ten minutes later that you hear a loud series of knocks on the door, causing you both to jolt awake.

"Morning, you sex fiends! Breakfast is ready!” San calls out from behind the door, an obvious hint of mischief in his tone.

Oh god, you were definitely too loud and you know you would never hear the end of it from him.

“Fuck off! We're sleeping in!” Mingi yells back, though his words don’t match the cheeky grin he sports.

You roll your eyes and gently nudge him off of you.

“Can we at least change the bed sheets first?”

“Sure thing, babe.” Fin~

[the-kr8tor]

A request for the best potioneer I know!😽

Epsom salt in a heart shaped bottle,please! BDAS!R helping out BDAS!Hobie with his hair after it finally grew out a little, maybe helping him braid it or put charms on his new locs. I need some fluff for them after all they've been throught honestly😭😭

(Congrats for the one year anniversary again!❤️)

BDAS MY BELOVED I MISS THE SILLIES!!! Thank you sm! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), BDAS Hobie and R, Pirate AU, Between the devil and the sea AU. Fluff

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Katy's one year anniversary 🎉

Hobie sighs, head lolling down to your lap, legs crossed on the floor, limp hands holding onto the charms you and Pavitr made for him. They're all made from shells and different metal charms that you've picked up during your journey south.

You chuckle softly, hands holding his jaw to lift his head up gently. “Stop falling asleep or we'll never be done.” The ship rocks back and forth, you shift from side to side on the captain's bed that you still address as his own and not shared by you even though you practically live in his cabin.

“Can you blame me, scuttlebutt?” He leans his head back to look at you upside down. Smirk of his pierced lips as you click your tongue in mock annoyance. “Your lap is softer than my pillow. ‘sides, I don't want to go out to the deck just yet.” Your hands smell like the oil you've lovingly rubbed on his scalp, he stops himself from taking your hands and kissing each of your knuckles.

You roll your eyes with a fond smile. Once again lifting his head up, he chortles at how you manhandle him. You continue to put charms in his hair that's now long enough to brush along his nape. “You're the captain, Hobie, it's literally your job to stay on deck.”

“Really?” He leans back again, you scoff at the audacity. “I thought my job was to keep my medic company?”

You bite your lip, looking around the large cabin instead of staring at his grey eyes lest you get dragged down inside its depths. “Is that so? I don't need company though. Lyla is enough to annoy me the entire day.” You joke, he drops the charms on his lap to place his hands on your hip, squeezing softly while the seagulls outside circle around the ship.

“Please,” it's his turn to roll his eyes, “Lyla is too preoccupied with Yuri to even notice you.”

You laugh when his fingers lift up your night shirt to rub soothingly at your soft skin. “That's true… but when she actually does her job she's the one annoying me instead of the captain who's supposed to be on deck and being a leader to the crew.”

“Sneaking into the med bay and snogging you until you throw yourself at me is part of my job as captain.”

You groan, flustered but happy. “That is not in the job description.” He hums, fingers dancing along your waist, his mind is definitely wandering around. You blame the early hour. “Come on, captain, let me finish your hair. What will mister Stacy say?”

Hobie finally looks back at your eyes instead of your bare skin. “I don't care what he says,” he pouts, “just whatever you say. How do I look?” Twisting around, he faces you fully, arms wrapped around your waist, chin finding penchant on your thigh, his warmth flows through you.

You know him and what he truly meant. Hands running along his hairline, you look at him softly, oozing with affection for the man before you. “Fucking fantastic, it's growing really well. Too good, I'm in awe.”

“Thanks to you and your potions.” He grins against your leg, nudging his chin on your skin. “And you only say that because ‘m your captain.”

“You don't even pay me, cap’n” You giggle.

“I do,” he knits his brows, making a face like you've said the most ridiculous thing ever. “with my love.”

You lean down, the small of your back aches from the movement so he meets you halfway, lips pursed and waiting. “Ah yes, I forgot that you pay me with the greatest treasure in the world.” Pecking his lips, you tilt your head, smugly smiling.

He shuts his eyes, head falling down on your thighs, clearly melting from your saccharine words. After a moment of silence and you chuckling while you take the opportunity to finish his hair, your ears pick up soft snores.

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss his nape in an effort to wake him up. It's a mistake really, because it seems that he's falling into a deeper slumber.

[licorice-tea]

Could I Be Loved By You? Pt. 2

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x reader, Usopp x reader, Nami x reader (separate)

Content: some suggestive jokes in usopp’s part, just general silliness besides that!

Word Count: 0.9k (total)

A/N: first time writing for all three of these characters- say whatttt! usopp’s part is my fave, but i love all of them!!! also if you check my master list for more content or anything, just know that im working on making it looks more aesthetically pleasing (it’s a mess right now😓) anyway thanks for reading and enjoy <3

Part 1

What happens when you ask them; “Do you think we’re together in every universe?”

Nami - 0.2k

With a singsongy voice, you announce your presence to Nami. “Babe!”

“Y/n!” She responds in a similar cadence. However, she doesn’t look up from drawing her map.

You round her desk so that you’re standing behind it, and she finishes off a line before setting down her pen. “What’s up?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Mhm…?”

“Ok. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t laugh at you, babe.” Well, she might, but only out of endearment.

“So… Um, do you think that we would be together in every universe?”

Her lips, once pressed together in a resting expression, curve upwards. The shake of her shoulders is an unmistakable sign of held back laughter, which is only solidified by her hand covering her mouth.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh!” But in all fairness, you’re smiling too. It’s a silly sort of question.

“I’m not, I’m not!” She defends herself through giggles, then clears her throat.

“So, do you think so or not?”

Nami taps her chin with a smirk. “Yes. Yes I do.” The faintest blush colors her cheeks, though she’s much too proud to ever admit to being flustered by the idea. To think; you want to be with her just as badly as she does you, in any every lifetime or world where the two of you coexist. It’s enough to make even her swoon.

“Awww, so you do love me!” You tease. Your next course of action is to run out the door before she can (lovingly) hurl a book at you.

Monkey D. Luffy - 0.3k

You and Luffy are the last crewmates left at the table. Neither of you were late to dinner, nor were you ever. No, you had arrived to the dining room on time (even a little early), but he is still on his 3rd main course. Meanwhile, you are a slow eater. It’s no bother, though; you’d take almost any opportunity to spend time alone with Luffy.

With a soft smile, you tilt your head as you watch your boyfriend and captain stuff his face.

He pauses, noticing your staring. “What? Something on my face?” He licks his lips.

You shake your head. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh, ‘bout what?”

“Do you think we’re like this in every universe?”

“Like what? Still hungry? I know I am!”

“No,” you giggle, “I mean like… in love. A couple.”

This time, Luffy is the one to giggle at your curiosity. “What a weird question, y/n.” He cracks his blinding grin at you. “Of course we are.”

Luffy proceeds to stretch one arm around the back of your chair and pulls it closer to his. The proximity allows you to lay your head on his shoulder, and now everything feels right with the world…

Still, the “what if” scenario runs rampant in your imagination. “But if there is a world where we aren’t-“

“Just means we haven’t met yet.”

“… Hm. I guess you’re right.”

“Yeah, and I found you this time, right? So, I always will.” He says it all like it’s some simple, known truth. As if there are no doubts in his mind- nor should there be in yours- that you’re meant to be together. It’s not surprising though, given Luffy’s view on his own destiny. Naturally, yours is part of his, and vice versa.

With a simper, you swipe your thumb over the corner of his lips to brush away a crumb. “Or maybe I’ll find you.”

Usopp - 0.4k

You and Usopp like to play this sort of game where you ask each other questions. Sometimes they’re deep and introspective, others silly and random. It’s not really a game, per say, but… Well, it’s a fun little thing for when you’ve exhausted other topics of conversation or both of you are bored of other, cleverer topics.

“Ok, favorite temperature?”

“Favorite temperature? That's so specific!”

He chuckles. “Thats the point, baby.”

You hum in agreement before responding. “True… 74 degrees.”

“Celsius, or fahrenheit?”

“…Usopp.” You deadpan. “74 degree celsius would be, like…”

“Around 165 degrees fahrenheit.” He grins proudly. How some people, such as your boyfriend, are such naturals at mental math, you would never understand.

“Hmph… if you say so. But, yeah, why would I say my favorite temperature is 165 degrees fahrenheit?”

Usopp shrugs, “I wouldn’t put it past you; I know you like things hot.”

You’re too caught up in the way he leans toward you teasingly to notice his arms snaking around your waist. Without warning, he pulls you close to his chest. You shriek as Usopp spins you around, but your arms remain looped around his shoulders even after he sets you down.

“That was a dirty trick.”

“I think you enjoyed it.”

And you did, so you just smile and accept defeat. It’s your turn to ask a question now. “Do you think we’d be together in every universe?”

His smile falters. “I… Well, I don’t know.”

“…Oh.”

“I want to be, of course, I just…”

“Just what?”

“You have so many choices, y/n. Who’s to say you’d always choose me? I definitely wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, in this hypothetical alternate-“

Your lips stop his from moving with a forceful kiss. They linger there, just for a few moments, before you pull back less than an inch away. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t apologize. I’d always choose you, Usopp, no matter what.”

His confidence grows back, along with his smile. “Then yes,” Usopp places another small peck to your lips and pulls away to gauge your reaction, “I think we would be together in every universe.”

Your eyes seem to shine with some emotion that could only be described as love. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

[turtlefanboy]

Hiii!! Local trans guy here,could I request the 2012 turtles with a really strong trans partner? I know one thing that makes me feel really masculine is being strong:D!!

A/N: Happily!! And I can understand being strong does make you feel really masc! I am so sorry this came out a lot later than I wanted like I think 2 years ahead of deadline, life has been crazy like I'm a junior now and I'm 17. Hope you like what I wrote though!

FEM DNI

2012! Turtles with Trans Masc S/O who’s really strong!

Leo

Leo loves the fact that you're strong.

honestly all the turtles do.

he will still want to protect you and make sure you don't get hurt.

but it reassures him to know that you can handle your own in a fight if you need to.

He loves to be carried by you.

makes him feel like you're his knight in shining armor.

he also picks you up to make you feel the same dw.

he does spar with you and is genuinely surprised when he loses to you!

he likes to spar with you as to challenge himself and to get better at fighting.

and so you get better at fighting as well!

will ask you to cosplay the like captain from space hero's

totally not because he's in love with him and you and it would be super cool if you did that combining the two things he loves-

totally not-

likes to watch you fight

not as much as Raph

but he will sometimes look over at you with a loving gaze as you knock out an enemy.

does not care that you're trans

none of the turtles do

mutant turtle that is rejected by society he can't Judge!

also he helps you whenever you are feeling dysphoric

will tell you that you are the most handsome and strongest guy he knows

and loves

Raph

LOVES THAT YOU'RE STRONG

IT MEANS HE CAN SPAR WITH YOU!

AND YOU CAN KEEP UP WITH HIM!!

he definitely works out with you and gives pointers as to how to be stronger.

please carry this man like a princess.

he adores it

he adores you

as mentioned before he loves sparring with you

since you're strong like him it doesn't mean he has to hold back!

and he loves that!

and he genuinely is a good sport when he loses to you

and that's totally not because he likes being thrown around by you

absolutely not.

he also likes it when he wins against you

inflates his ego.

he also loves fighting in battles with you and loves watching you fight

like he will just be starring at you so lovingly as you smash a Kraangs metal skull

he's just smitten

has to have someone yell at him to stop starring at you

he adores you and absolutely loves the fact you're strong.

Also makes sure you don't feel dysphoric

genuinely angry whenever he hears someone was transphobic to you

or was just mean to you...

they get a little visit from Raph and get beaten the shit out of-

like how dare they say that to his handsome and strong boyfriend

he don't care if your strong and can beat people up yourself

he will still beat them up himself.

Donnie

again all the turtles love that you're strong

same with nerd over here (I say that affectionately)

he helps you with becoming stronger

likes diets

and workouts that help

and he gives you workouts that will help with your gender dysphoria

like he will give you workouts that make your body more masculine

if you want that of course

he asks for your help a lot to pick up big heavy things he can't

genuinely your biggest fanboy

loves to have you there helping him by being his brawns

has definitely written fanfics of you two

and it's the jock x nerd trope

he doesn't tell you about them

much like Raph he just stares at you adoringly while you fight an enemy

takes a lot to snap him out of it though

literally have to bonk him out of his trance

he just is absolutely smitten with you

definitely has a folder dedicated to pictures of you working out

for research purposes

doesn't spar with you unlike his brothers

mainly because he is more into computers and tech rather than fighting.

but he definitely roots for you as you fight his brothers

fucking loves it when you beat Raphs ass

Mikey

Loves your strength

Loves to be picked up like a pretty princess by you

Calls you his knight in shining armor

Showers you in kisses whenever he can

Goofball over here will flirt with you a lot though

Constantly flirting and complimenting you

Like calling you handsome, or hot

Compliment him as well he loves it

Definitely made you dress up as a knight while he dressed up as a prince

He just loves it

Has made you play DND with him

He loves sparring with you

and also watching you beat his brothers sometimes

Mikey adores you

and will watch you with heart eyes as you fight much like his older brothers

but he can multitask, he's fighting while admiring you

its impressive.

throws himself in your arms after a fight

he loves you and adores you.

[paperweight91]

A scenario prompt: waking up in a warm embrace, soft lips pressing along your bare shoulder and throat…

But make it soft!dark 😈

Idk why…but lately every time I see soft!dark I see…

Your drawn from your sleep by the feel of fingers trailing along your calf, lips follow the movement. It all feels so nice, so warm. You hum your encouragement, as you lounge for a few more minutes between awake and asleep. The touch drifts higher until finally kissing along your bare shoulder, while a hand wraps around your throat from behind.

It’s then that you stiffen with the dawning horror of what is happening. There is a man in your bed, that you have no memory of bringing there.

His grip on your throat tightens enough to stop your voice as you open your mouth to scream. Your hands scramble to scratch at his hand, but you may as well be encouraging him, for all it does.

“Shhhh doll, no need for that.” You whimper as you recognize the voice. Captain America. The star-spangled-man-with-a-plan. What could he possibly want with you?

You squeaked as you tried to form words, and he loosened his grip slightly to allow them to pass your lips. “I don’t understand…what’s going on?” You tried to turn your face to look at him but the hand on your throat tightened again in warning.

“Honey, I’ve been keeping an eye on you. And you really haven’t been taking care of yourself.” He tsked at you like you were a small child. “I’m here to make your life easier, our life easier.”

He stated it as if you were together. You’d think you’d remember if you were dating Steve Rogers. You’d only met the man once, when he had gone to the charity gala your work was hosting. As an employee you had made sure to greet all of the VIP guests, including Steve, but clearly he’d made more of the brief exchange than you did.

You tried again to turn to face him, this time he didn’t resist your movements, less fearful of you running. It was only as you turned over that you realized you were naked, and so was he. You shook off the fear, and made yourself look him in the eye as you responded, “Why are you in my bed naked?” It came out harsher than you intended. You wanted answers but looking at the man before you, you realized that he was not everything the media portrayed. There was an icy glint in his eye you had never seen before in the press conferences, or the chance encounter at the gala.

He sighed and lovingly stroked your face. In any other circumstance this would have been a moment you had dreamed of. Now all you could hear ringing in your head was “be careful what you wish for.” Steve stroked your cheek one more time before gathering you into his arms, and pulling you close. You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh. “I told you honey,” he said sweetly, “I’m gonna take care of you. Take all your worries away. Now be good, and let me take care of you.” There was a warning in his tone, that had you stuck.

You always thought, if it came down to it, fight would be your go-to response. But looking at the super soldier staring at you lovingly, you knew now that you could never out fight, or out run this man.

Like someone else was in control of your body, you slowly nodded. There was one thing you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “Why me?”

He chuckled at that, and brought one of his legs up between your own. You felt your body betray you as the wetness formed between your thighs. “You really want to know?” You nodded eager for his reply, as your hips rocked against his thigh without your permission. “Well, when I saw you at the Gala, the way you treated all the guests. I was in awe. You were beautiful, charismatic, and a wonderful host. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I knew you were perfect for me, and the more I watched you, I knew I was perfect for you.”

His hands dropped to your hips and he rolled until he was on his back and you were straddling him. You continued to rock against his thigh, with him now controlling your rhythm.

“So doll, you gonna let me take care of you?” His eyebrow twitched up in question, as a smirk grazed his lips.

You moaned above him, not wholly in control of yourself anymore, having given into the pleasure. “I, I don’t know you.” He laughed at your comment.

“Of course you do, doll. And what you don’t, I’ll show you.” With that he groaned and rolled you both again until you were on your back. He wedged himself between your thighs and kissed his way down your body until he reached your mound. Inhaling deeply, before diving in like a man starved.

You were already so close from riding his thigh that all it took was a few suckles on your clit and a single finger prodding at your pussy before you were moaning out your orgasm.

“There you go don’t you feel better?” He smirked as he gripped his cock and gave a few strokes before crawling back up your body to line himself up. You were so out of it, you didn’t even realize what he was doing, until he was halfway in. He groaned loudly as your walls spasmed around him. You tried to look up at his face, but your vision was swimming, only then did you realize you were crying. “Shh, don’t cry doll, you’re doing so good for me.” He murmured as he bucked his hips sheathing himself in your wet warmth fully.

He wiped the tears from your eyes, and brought his forehead to yours. With anyone else, at any other time you would call this making love. But here, with Steve slowly undulating his hips into yours, the look in his eyes feral, you could only call this possession. You moaned at the thought. Bringing your hips up to meet his thrusts.

At your participation, Steve’s lip twitched and he picked up his pace. His hand dropping to find your clit. The other bracing him over you. You began to thrash as your orgasm approached, fingers biting into his skin. “That’s it doll. I know you’re close. Let go, I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

At Steve’s words electricity shot through your veins and you came with a scream. You clenched around him so hard he rocked into a couple more times before spilling himself in you.

The two of you laid in the afterglow. You cuddled up under his chin and halfway across his chest. He stroked up and down your arm as he held you tightly. In the moments before you fell asleep you thought, it wouldn’t be so bad to let Steve take care of everything.

******

This became a whole thing. And…I love it so much! I hope it’s everything you dreamed of Siri 😏

[misslovasstuff]

Imagine laying your head on Sanji’s chest as it rises and falls, accompanied with the fast rate of his heartbeat. You close your eyes and wrap your hands around him, pushing yourself closer to his embrace. Then, you’ve met with the most gentle hands that caress your face, his fingertips tracing your skin and forming heart signs without even noticing. His chin rests on your head whilst his other hand rests on your waist, a simple touch of his sends your body to paradise, feeling such tranquility and warmth that even if you were found in the middle of the ocean while being lost, it wouldn’t compare with the happiness you have when you’re in Sanji’s arms, especially after a tiring day for both of you.

He’s your comfort and you’re his salvation. As you’re slowly drifting off to sleep, a kiss on the forehead makes you smile.

“Precious, - he whispers, running his fingers through your hair while moving them away from your face. - my precious love.”

Imagine having a picnic with Zoro where you’re sitting on plain grass near a river. The trees are on full bloom and the sun decided to shine more than ever today. You two have found a nice shade where you’ve sat and brought out snacks you’d prepared.

The silence between you is comfortable, short glances are exchanged but both of you are too shy to keep that eye contact and actually express your feelings.

When you lay your hands back, one accidentally touches Zoro’s who immediately reacts by looking at you with widen eyes and a small blush on his face.

“Sorry.” - you apologise with an awkward smile to which he shakes his head with a reassuring smirk:

“If you wanted to hold my hand you could have just said so.”

His serious demeanour shatters when you grab his hand, placing a kiss on the palm while holding eye contact. It was quite intense for the swordsman who did not expect such boldness from you.

You’ve never seen Zoro so flustered. He tries to hide it but there’s no escaping your curious eyes that pulled him in, the ones who lure his soul and guide him towards you.

There is a soft gaze, even softer hands that approach to cup your cheek as he looks lovingly in your eyes, glancing at your lips.

Was this man stupid? He was amidst the most stunning view where the river kissed the horizon beautifully and the leaves of the trees played a serenade above you. There were hectares of colourful flowers, each special in scent and a warm breeze that brought peace. And yet amidst all this, he decides to look at you, stare at you, observe every detail that might have escaped him.

Zoro adores your pure eyes, the way you look at him like no one else, with such gentleness and love. He craves your touch, your melodic voice that whenever calls his name, it sounds like an angel guiding him home.

“Zoro…” - you call him and his heart skips a beat. His body is frozen in place as he’s cupping your cheek and it’s not helping that you’re desperately looking at his lips.

“You’re… - he manages to say, letting out a cough to clear his throat. - … so pretty…”

You widen your eyes at his statement as his hand reaches for some strands of hair that he puts behind your ear.

Surely, this man is not stupid. He’s simply in love.

Imagine Luffy finding you got hurt by the enemy. He doesn’t realise that you almost died, stayed bleeding for hours and the immense pain your body went through… he doesn’t know, until he finishes his own fight and gets back to find you in Chopper’s arms.

He’s devastated. Luffy screams and shouts with hope that you will wake up and answer him.

Chopper on the other hand keeps reassuring his captain and pushing him away so he could begin to cure you, but Luffy’s worry is too much for him to handle.

He grabs your hand and rests his forehead on it.

“Why…” - he whispers, anger building up in him. Your hand falls off his grip when Chopper takes you away. Luffy hates it when he feels like he has no control, no say when it comes to you getting hurt. He doesn’t know how to help. If it was the case that he could give his life in exchange for yours, he would, within a heartbeat.

The ship is awfully quiet, everyone waiting for updates regarding your health. However, Chopper had been with you for hours now and he hasn’t gone out his room.

Naturally, Luffy is growing impatient. His crew mates have already attempted to stop him multiple times from entering the room where you were getting treatment. Now, he doesn’t wait anymore and rushes through, opening the door only to widen his eyes at the sight.

Chopper is by your side and you’re sleeping, all bandaged and treated. Our cute doctor gives a nod to his captain, reassuring him that you’re going to be alright.

Luffy smiles and sighs in relief, approaching you slowly and Chopper gets up and closes the door after he leaves. Everyone else looks assured and finally get to relax after such stress.

Your Luffy sits on a chair near your bed, grabs your hand and kisses it while holding it between his own. His eyes are only on you as he imagines the pain you must have gotten through. Luffy clenches his teeth and curses under his breath but then, a sound from you gets his attention.

“Luffy…” - you call him in his sleep and he tightens the grip he has on your hand.

“I’m here, you don’t have to worry anymore.” - his voice calm and collected, Luffy caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and smiles.

The sun begins to set and he’s still there by your side, watching over you. During that time he refused invitations to eat or drink anything. His hand never let go of yours even when he slowly drifts to sleep. This man refuses to leave your side and no one could get him to do otherwise.

He felt some sort of guilt, and we as humans know how much of a cursed feeling that is. It eats you inside and keeps telling you that it’s your fault over and over again until you believe it and blame yourself for everything. Luffy feels surrounded by darkness that even his dreams have turned into nightmares tonight, that is up until you regain consciousness and notice him by your side, sleeping.

A gentle smile appears on your face as you pat his head, trace his face with your fingers.

“My captain, - you whisper to him. - protecting me even when I’m sleeping.”

Luffy smiles as if he heard you, his face seems more peaceful since the sun had finally come and deleted all the darkness surrounding his mind, that was you.

You were the happiness and joy of his life, pure sunlight that warmed his heart whenever you smiled at him. He was your whole sky where you found reassurance and peace. Luffy had become the man whom you trusted and loved the most, someone who loved you immensely and wasn’t afraid to show it everyday.

Your mind plays memories of you and him which give you a bashful expression on your face.

Although powerless, you manage to get up and lend a kiss on his forehead before laying down again and holding onto his hand, waiting for the morning to come where you could listen to his voice, look into his eyes and witness that smile of his that unarms you completely.

[furuyalover]

falling asleep on him

— ft. miyuki kazuya

AN: back to my daiya roots hehe

it had been a long day at the field, spending hours in the sun, sitting in the stadium watching baseball. understandably, you were beat. but your boyfriend and his team got the win, so who were you to complain? ah yes your boyfriend, that arrogant, cocky, and a lot of the time annoying team captain, miyuki kazuya.

despite the heat and long days, you loved attending all of his games and supporting your boyfriend in his element. however you can’t deny that it really takes a lot out of you. i mean dealing with that shithead is enough work on its own.. but i digress.

you wait outside the stadium for your annoying ass lovely boyfriend to come out and congratulate him on his win. as soon as you see him walk out of the doors you go to him with open arms and wrap him in a hug. he kisses the top of your head and thanks you for always being there to support him at his games. you’re resting on him for a little too long where you almost sink into him, and he realizes you’re as tired as he is, if not more. being the stellar boyfriend he his, he looks down to you and asks, “hey babe, do you wanna ride home on the bus with me?” this is really an excuse to spend more time with you but of course he’d never admit to it. his smile gives it away though.

not wanting to be a bother you reject, “no no! it’s okay don’t worry, my friend can give me a ride home it’s fine!” despite plastering a smile on your face and reassuring him, he sees right through that. “oh please, you practically just fell asleep and drooled on me” he replied while rolling his eyes and flicking your forehead he is so in love with you. you know kazuya enough to know this is his annoying way of saying pleaaaaase sit with me on the bus i can’t deal with eijun alone, so you call your friend and tell them they don’t need to give you a ride back to the school.

the two of you enter the bus hand in hand, and make your way to a seat towards the back of the bus. being so gentlemanly he gives you the window seat, but mainly so that he can easily chit chat with kuramochi who’s sitting right across from him. after the bus takes off, you’re gazing out the window, in awe of the evening haze glossing over the scenery you’re passing by. honestly, miyuki is so in awe of you that he’s barely listening to whatever his green headed teammate has to say. “hey. shitface. hello? miyuki? are you even listening?” he is not.

you’re however at peace. content with the company of your boyfriend, and the beautiful scenery you’re taking in on the ride back to seidou, you can’t help but doze off a little. you try not to slip up, since you know miyuki would not let you hear the end of it, but at this point you’re in too deep. one second you’re leaning back against your sat looking the window, the next your head slowly begins to fall to the side. where does your head fall, you may be asking? of course, on miyuki’s shoulder.

he flinched a little, surprised by the sudden weight his shoulder is now bearing, but he makes sure to move ever so slowly as to not disturb you. “aye mochi shut the hell up, y/n is sleeping and i don’t want your yapping to wake them up!�� aggressively whispers. rolling his eyes, kuramochi pipes down and finds someone else to bug with his antics.

miyuki carefully readjusts himself to get more comfortable, being careful not to wake you. after that he just takes a moment to gaze at your figure, noticing how peaceful you look, and realizing how lucky he is to have you in his life. for once, that shit eating grin is off his face and replaced with a rather wholesome, genuine smile. you are his whole heart, and if you look close enough you can even see a slight pink tint creep up on his face. these were some of his most cherished moments. where nothing else, not even baseball, can even come close to. whenever he’s with you nothing else matters, whenever he’s with you he’s home.

after he’s done staring at you lovingly, he decides it’s time he gets some rest of his head. he carefully places his head atop yours and rests his eyes. dreaming of your future together. hoping this bus ride will last forever.

when kuramochi looks over he gets a kick out of the sight he sees before him, amused by his asshole of a friend doing something so “corny.” he snaps a photo of you two in hopes to use it as blackmail, but really, he knows his friend would would appreciate the heartfelt candid of him & his s/o. and he does. after mochi sent him the photo, kazuya made it his lockscreen and even posted it on his story with the caption, “couldn’t think of anyone better to sit next to on bus rides 🤍 …sorry yoichi” kuramochi temporarily blocked him.

reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

[danibee33]

More Simon “Ghost” Riley brain rot because I’ve been in a car for 8 hours 🙃

But this time, make it undercover!Ghost🩶

(inspired by “Billie Bossa Nova” by Billie Eilish - reader goes by callsign: “Hela”)

+++++

•thinking about Ghost being absolutely livid that he’s the one chosen to attend the event- some ritzy, wildly overpriced and stupidly exclusive, art exhibition.

•”You’re the only one that they wouldn’t know- they can’t recognize a face they’ve never seen. We’ve already talked about it-“ Price pinches at the bridge of his nose, sitting behind his desk, sitting in the same exact position he was in an hour ago, trying to convince his lieutenant that it truly was a last resort.

•Ghost huffs out a rumbling sigh, only just barely fighting back the urge to roll his eyes- the military bearing far too engrained in him to disrespect a superior officer. But really, he knows it’s because he respects John too much as a friend.

•and he’s just about close the door behind him when he hears the older man’s voice again, “Hela will be your second.”

•sure, he could try to argue like he so badly wants to, but judging by how far he made it with this, he wouldn’t be getting the answer he wanted either way.

•it’s not that the 141’s newest lieutenant was incompetent or incapable, no, you were far from either of those things.

•you were smart, a great leader, and even better in a team than he could ever dream of being. you had only made them better-

•but you were a fucking pain in his ass, with your annoying and, at times overbearing, sunshine fucking personality. Your habit of wanting to learn things about him and the others just to see them perk up a bit, though you’ve yet to figure out what makes Ghost not look like a walking rain cloud-

•and it had taken them months to figure out how the hell you got such a dark and foreboding callsign such as Hela, Norse fucking goddess of death- it didn’t make any sense, there was no way, right? No way someone so sweet and chipper could be that brutal.

•boy, how wrong they were.

•you were downright certifiable on mission, merciless on the battlefield, with your laughter trickling through the radios after a particularly challenging kill- there was something wrong with you, but he guesses that’s why you fit in so well with the rest of them.

•they were all a little fucked up in the head. You had to be, to do what needs to be done, to do all the terrible things no one in their right mind could do.

+++

•when the night arrives, Ghost is left staring at his own reflection, and it physically pains him to leave the comfort of his balaclava laying on the bathroom counter- even though he knew Price had made sure to limit his exposure to only the bare minimum, it didn’t make it easier.

•”You’ll meet Hela inside the venue, she’s in a black, floor length dress, red purse, hair up.” He nods at his captain’s words, committing the details to memory as he slides into the back seat of the blacked out SUV.

•the ride blurs by, he doesn’t pay attention to anything going on outside, preferring to focus on the parameters of the mission; it would be mostly recon, some light pick-pocketing, a little slight of hand, a cellphone full of intel procured-

•he certainly doesn’t dwell on how excited you were to had been to go undercover, or how you had talked fucking relentlessly about the dress you picked for your “007 moment”, as you so lovingly to referred to the mission- and to his surprise, Johnny had apparently helped you pick it out.

•and there’s no reason whatsoever for that fact to have made him want to wring the Scot’s neck.

•Ghost steps out the car at the curb, straightening and buttoning the fitted, black tuxedo jacket- the grimace on his scarred lips doing a well enough job of carving a path through the sparse crowd.

• “C’mon, LT- ye could try ta’look like ye spent an obscene amount o’money ta be here.” Johnny playfully drawls through the ear piece, “and lemme tell you-“ he pauses to give a quiet whistle for effect, and this time Ghost doesn’t stop his eyes from rolling back, “Hela is lookin’ real bonnie, aren’t ye, lil’ LT?”

•”Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Ghost grunts back, eyeing the upper windows of the surrounding buildings before waltzing through the grandiose entrance-

• “Hm, I thought it was nice.. thank you, Soap.” You say, and he swears he can hear the smile in your sultry tone. The one that you just love to use on comms.

•Johnny gives a low chuckle, “Ye’re very welcome, ma’am.”

•Christ fucking alive. Ghost is in hell, he’s sure of it.

•but then, he sees you. And at first, he’s not entirely sure he’s even looking at the right person- because, of course he’s seen you in civilian clothes, even some more form fitted PT gear; and he’s always had a hard time dragging his eyes away from you even then. Right now, though?

•right now, he’s ardently staring at your profile, studying the lines of your face under the soft glow of the museum lighting- the way your glossy pink lips are parted just slightly as you look up at the painting in front of you, your fingers daintily clasped around a flute of champagne, a deep red leather clutch in your other hand.

•something compels him to blend back into the crowd, silently moving to take you in from all angles, his eyes roaming and lingering all the same-

•and it’s at that moment he realizes Price severely understated your “black, floor length dress”. Yes, it was all those things, but fuck.. a warning would’ve been nice-

•he also decides then that he will wring Johnny’s neck- because if he helped you pick this? well that means he’s already seen too much. And Ghost couldn’t have that-

•the dress you chose is fitted like a second skin, high neck and long sleeves, entirely modest and yet.. it manages to leave so, so little to the imagination with the way it hugs every single curve- but it’s the back that causes an awful flicker of arousal to make his cock twitch.

•the back is completely, and gloriously, exposed- from the petite span of your shoulders, all the way down to the godforsken pair of dimples that decorate the lowest curve of your spine before the fabric meets together again right above the delicious swell of your ass-

•it takes everything in him to stay on track, to keep aware of his surroundings as he makes his way to your other side. It’s only then that you finally turn towards him, certainly having felt the weight of his gaze. But by the time you crane your neck to search the crowd, he’s already out of sight.

+++

•you scan over the strange and unfamiliar faces, unable to shake that feeling of being watched- it was probably just nerves, you knew Ghost would be with you on this, which means you’re well aware that he would be maskless tonight.

•and you really should not be so excited- this was still a mission, you shouldn’t be thinking about him.. shouldn’t be imagining what hides beneath the balaclavas-

•you’re so lost in the thought you can’t help to but gasp when you hear the familiar, brassy voice in your ear, “Spotted the target.”

•you barely stifle another gasp when you feel the sweltering heat of his palm suddenly pressed against your lower back- and you don’t know why the touch sends a rush of chills down your spine. Maybe it’s just knowing you’re finally about to see the ever enigmatic man’s face, or it could just be how comfortable he seems putting his hand on you like that.

•but when you try to turn, he holds you in place, the hand that was at the small of your back, moving to the gently hold the nape of your neck,

• “Wait..” He whispers, an odd mixture of authority and desperation in his tone.

• “Why?” You ask just as quietly, your eyes fixed ahead, but the beautiful art is lost on you now, too consumed by his proximity- by the standoffish brute of a man who had only looked at you like a nuisance for months. It’s ridiculous, what you should really be asking is why you care so much-

•but you don’t think you would know the answer to that, not for sure anyway; maybe it was that you craved his approval- you had earned it from literally everyone else by this point, but his had alluded you. And you couldn’t fucking stand it.

• “Ghost?” You try to pry a little further, his callsign coming out a bit breathier than you meant for it to, but the way his thumb is rubbing back and forth, back and forth, so softly, so slowly.. it’s enough to drive you crazy.

• “Target’s directly to your left- cellphone in his right jacket pocket.” Without warning he removes his hand and brushes past you, taking with him the chance to see any of his features apart from the head of wavy, honey blonde hair that’s been messily swept back.

•and it’s the purposely careless movement that causes you to stumble, your crystal flute knocking right against the sturdy chest of the man that had just approached the painting,

• “Oh! Oh, my god- I am so-“, you slip the device from his pocket almost too easily, “so, sorry, sir.”

•it’s easy to distract him, flashing a bright, slightly nervous smile- bat your pretty lashes up at him, maybe let your hand linger a bit too long on his bicep..

• “‘M sorry, sweetheart-“ Ghost is back, and you have to force yourself not to immediately focus on his presence, instead noticing how he efficiently leans around you to slip the bugged phone into the target’s pocket.

•and again, it’s unsettling how natural it feels for him to snake a muscular arm around your waist, and god, the way he settles his big hand possessively over your lower stomach has your knees weak and an uncomfortable pressure building between your legs.

• “Just saw an old friend, and he wants to meet you, love.” He says it like it was the most normal night in the world, holding you like you could’ve been a couple- but, he’s just playing his part, right?

•after another round of apologies, Ghost promptly leads you away, your hand held firmly in his as he weaves through and around the small groups of people who couldn’t care less about you.

“Riley- hang on.” You hiss just as he turns a corner, finally far enough way to give the all clear to Price and Soap without concern of being overheard, but he’s still just ahead of you, his face still just out of view.

•you struggle to keep up with his monstrous strides in your outrageous heels, “That excited to get away from me, huh?”

•no, you don’t mean for it to sound so bitter, it was suppose to be a joke, but maybe it’s a little more honest than you care to dive into right now. But, it does finally get his attention, his feet coming to such an abrupt halt that you stumble right into the thick, solid mass of his back.

•he opens a door, quickly turning to walk you backwards into the dark room- slamming the heavy wood shut as soon as you’re both inside.

•with effortless speed, he pulls your earpieces out, shoving them him in his pocket, “what. the. fuck, Ghost? What are you doing?!”

• “Fucking hell, do you ever shut up?”

•you scoff into the darkness, his giant silhouette still looming over you- and with your curiosity too quickly turned to rage, you shove him backwards,

• “What’s your problem with me?” You have to stop yourself from shouting, you know you’re away from the party, but there could still be staff close by, “Well?! What did I do tonight except everything I was suppose to? Please, tell me what I did wrong, because I am so fuckin-“

•the last thing you expect is to feel his hands grasp either side of your face, and it’s completely unfathomable what happens after-

•Ghost’s lips collide with yours in a rough, hungry kiss, one that leaves you to stunned to do anything but let your body do what you’ve fantasized about one too many times.

•but too soon, he pulls away, out of breath and still gripping your face, “No, sweet girl, no. You’ve been perfect tonight, and you look..”

•you reel at his praise, your lungs seizing at the sound of the pet name on his tongue- internally cursing the lack of light for depriving you of getting to see his expression.

•Because you so desperately wanted to know what the actual fuck was going on and why it was happening right now.

• “-so bloody beautiful.. you’re fucking stunning, y’know that?”

•he kisses you again before you can even attempt to think of an answer, but this time you’re ready, turning your head to deepen the gesture into something dangerously close to sinful. Heated and passionate, you cling to him, letting your purse drop to the floor so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

•his hands wander, needy, yet so languid, you feel him trace the lines of your back, every touch delicately ravenous. And the fire you feel spread through your entire body at the simple skin to skin contact threatens your already very thinly tethered control-

•you take a step, then another, your hands now splayed out over his broad chest- pushing him until you both feel his back make contact with the door, his lips moving lower now, hands pulling you closer.

•the old light fixture crackles to life when you flip the switch, effectively freezing you both in this moment- crossing boundaries that could never be uncrossed, seeing each other in a way that couldn’t be forgotten.

•and you don’t know exactly why you keep your eyes clamped shut, even when you feel him lean back just slightly, though his nose still grazes across your cheekbone, and his fingertips are still dug into the flesh of your hips.

•your breath stutters when he presses a single kiss to your lips, the taste of champagne mixing with a hint of tobacco and peppermint, it was an odd combination, but you find yourself craving it already- what a terrible drug he is.

•without pulling away, he speaks against your lips, and you can feel the smile on his, hear the timbre in his voice, “It’s all right, love.. you can look. I know you want to..”

++++

>>>> {Part II}

PLS DONT HATE ME. I never meant for it to be this long, so I’m splitting it into two parts 😬 (unless I shouldn’t??)