#Warmed up now funnily enough

[pseudowho]

Today my husband bought new work clothes.

Comes to me in a new navy shirt, brown leather tie, boots, and braces.

Leans in and whispers "you can pull my tie if you like".

I just

I can't

He knows

[todayisafridaynight]

mwah an shit

[papermonkeyism]

I found a place that has decaf lattes!

My life is good again.

[cute-little-crow]

You’re in a particular mood whilst in the midst of intimate shenanigans and it’s about to get you in a whole heap of trouble. Or when you ask them…

“Is it in yet?”

feat: Rafayel, Sylus, Xavier & Zayne (separately)

tw: female reader, brat behaviour, regretting decisions, smut smut and more smut, edging, overstimulation, temp play, light bondage (held bodily), all the boys bringing out their Dom sides to varying degrees, spanking, oral fixation, creampies, hair pulling, phew sorry if I missed something

“Excuse me?”

“What? It was an innocent question,” you huffed, biting your lip and glancing towards the ceiling light over his shoulder.

You could feel the hard length of Rafayel’s cock twitch within your walls, his hand, splayed wide at your hip, tensed until his fingertips pressed harder into the soft yield of your skin.

The urge to squirm was growing more intense, but then he would know. He would know you were goading him. Hell, he probably already knew given the narrow of his violet hued eyes and the crease forming between his eyebrows.

When he didn’t speak, didn’t move, barely drew breath, you piped up once more—pushing your luck too far.

“All I asked was if it was in yet. What’s the problem, Raf?”

Rafayel hissed.

The unnatural noise made you jump, a pathetic moan tumbling from your lips when the jerking motion nudged the tip of his cock against your swollen pleasure spot.

“Brat…” he seethed, pulling out of you and leaning back to spread your thighs wide apart. “And to think I was being so nice to you. Clearly, you don’t want nice.”

His long fingers splayed out on your sensitive inner thighs, holding you down on the bed with your cunt gaping and flexing from where he had just been buried. Arousal dripped along your slit until it dribbled to the sheets below.

You reached from him, squalling from the sudden empty feeling but he pushed away your hand and gave a stern shake of his head.

“Rafay—”

“Hush. Don’t speak. Let’s see how long you can last, hm?”

Gripping the base of his cock, he spread his knees wider so he was closer to you once more. The fat tip leaked with precum which he smeared around your entrance before pushing into you, but stopping when the tip disappeared.

It felt delicious and your skin warmed all over from the sensation. You keened, attempting to roll your hips upward only to be stopped by a firm grip.

“Oh? You feel it now… shame.”

Frowning, you licked over your suddenly parched lips.

Rafayel was pissed.

It turned you on to see him darken; from the colours swirling in his eyes to the shadow falling over his face to his entire demeanour growing sterner, everything more angular and sharp.

Again he withdrew and let his cockhead slap against your puffy clit, far from gentle. Your nerve endings were on fire, sweat gathering on your hairline.

Over and over Rafayel repeated the process. He gave you only ever an inch and never for long enough. Your stomach was in knots from the treatment, the continued smacking of your swollen pearl which he would reach down and tweak every now and again, stopping when he knew you were getting close.

“Please…” you begged, broken and near tears. “I need to feel all of you. ‘want your cock.”

“What’s that, cutie? I didn’t think you could feel anything… and now you want it all? Brats don’t get treats, they get tricks so hush until I’m ready.”

Rafayel edged you for the next hour; giving you enough stimulation to keep you tense and desperate but never enough to satisfy your needs.

It would be quite some time until you decided to be sassy with the Lemurian again.

Sylus paused.

His mouth pulled back from your neck, steady breaths tickling your skin and emphasising the bruises blooming to life.

“I’m sorry, I think I must have misheard you. What did you say, sweetie?”

You were regretting your moment of madness already, heart pounding so harshly in your chest that it just might beat right out. Funnily enough, your voice disappeared into nothing but a strand of whimpered syllables.

He clicked his tongue in dismay, and cupped your chin firmly to bring your focus to his face. You couldn’t run from the piercing intensity of his vermillion eyes, nor from the hold on your jaw that tightened until you were close to squeaking out.

“Nothing, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. You should repeat what you asked me, kitten. Something about ‘is it in yet?’, no?” His voice was a deadly calm whisper and that was so much worse than an overly emotional reaction.

Sylus thrust harshly into you when your mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water, your stomach clenched and your legs wrapped more tightly around his waist.

“Seems like you can feel me just fine… so why deny it? Does the kitten want to brat me tonight? Tsk tsk. Bad kitty.”

He peeled away your legs from his sides carefully, thumbs digging into the backs of your knees whilst he adjusted your body beneath him. You went from being intimately close to having your knees digging into your chest and your ankles by your ears.

The adjustment allowed him to sink deeper into you, knocking the air from your lungs. Sylus loomed over your folded body with one stretched hand holding your ankles. It was enough to keep you in the position he desired, enough that every forward momentum felt like you might burst all over him.

“I can’t hear you, sweetie.”

You squealed and squirmed. Your eyes rolled over to the back of your head. You wet his cock so thoroughly that slick dripped from his balls, only emphasising the smacking sound when they impacted heavily against your backside.

Over and over he drove you through orgasm after orgasm. Sylus wrung you like an overly used towel and listened to you sing his name along with the best attempts at apologies you could muster. Every sound was desperation incarnate and he let out an amused huff that gave way to a guttural groan signalling his own release.

“Sylus… oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Instead of releasing your trembling legs, the cunning man above you ran his fingers around the base of his cock, coating them in the mixed essence of you both which had managed to escape.

The digits came away creamy, shiny and debauched. With a wolfish grin, he pushed them into your mouth to silence your continued pleas for mercy. Your tongue flattened against roughened pads, the tang lighting up your taste buds and saliva rushed to meet them.

“I heard you, but bad kitties need to be reminded of their manners. Now then, suck my fingers cleans so I can fill you with another load. I need to make sure you really feel it after all…”

Sylus made you pay for your sass over and over that night…

“… did I? Did I hear you right?”

“Did I stutter? I said… is it in yet, Xav?” You asked churlishly. His cerulean eyes swam like oceans in front of your face, a fleeting look of hurt passing over his features and that was enough to deflate most of your bravado.

“Wait, baby, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve—”

Xavier cut you off with a move you could only describe as pro wrestling adjacent.

One moment he was cradled by the comfort of your body and the next, he was rolling you over onto your stomach and straddling your thighs. His hand traced the curve of your spine, pressing your chest deep into the plush mattress and ending by winding around your hair.

“No, baby. You don’t deserve to be given half-assed dick. Let me make up for my failings,” he rasped into your ear, leaning over you whilst his slick cock rocked between the cleft of your ass.

He tugged on the makeshift ponytail he’d made, drawing your head up at the same time the rest of you was crushed into the sheets, your hands trapped beneath your stomach—useless.

“Spread your legs—that’s it—I see you’re not completely off the rails tonight.”

Xavier worked himself through the gap of your thighs, the blunt head of him butting up against your clit and drawing little gasping hisses from you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you squirmed, futile beneath his weight.

When he finally notched at your fluttering hole, you were holding your breath so hard you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. His hips descended, dropping himself flush along your body at the same moment he fucked into you.

“Shit!! Xav! Oh god…”

Xavier chuckled nasally, a hungry mouth clamping over the beating pulse in your neck. He set a harsh pace immediately, fucking you prone bone.

You could do absolutely nothing but take every hit. His cock moulding your pussy to fit him and him alone. The angle had him rutting right up near your cervix, so close to flashes of pain but measured enough to stop before he could inflict any actual damage.

He huffed into the crook of your neck, biting and licking over the hurt with shallow breathing that mimicked your own. Xavier was relentless and you had never seen him quite like this.

“So tight, princess. You feel me now? Tell me. Do you feel me in your belly? Gonna spill any minute,” he admitted with a heavy grunt punctuating the words.

In your belly? You could feel him in your damn throat with how deep he was hitting and all you could do was squeal. The sound heightened into a high pitch shriek only animals would hear when he shifted himself to deliver a hearty smack to your backside.

“C’mon… tell me. Is it in now? Is my cock deep enough? The cream you’re leaking tells me yes but I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes! Xavier, yes!”

Never again would you make that same mistake. Who knew your star boy had it in him?

At first, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. Zayne was frozen above, hands pressed to either side of your head and his eyes fixedly shut.

You were about to repeat your attempt at being a brat just to see how the good doctor would react when he blinked open his eyes and your jaw snapped shut.

The frown deepening his brow seemed genuinely startled and he raised a hand to feel your forehead like he was assessing you for a medical condition.

“You don’t feel feverish… perhaps some neurological condition has manifested,” he muttered almost to himself.

“Zayne—don’t be silly. All I asked was if it was in yet?”

He hummed—thoughtfully. “Yes. I heard you, but I can’t quite correlate the words with the sentiment because I know you can feel me.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Sound pretty full of yourself, Dr Zayne.”

As if for emphasis, he pumped himself into you with a snap of his hips. It resulted exactly as he wanted, with your breathless gasp and your head flying back against the pillows.

“You were saying?” He asked coolly. “Perhaps I should check your reactions to other stimuli, just to be sure…”

“What does that—oh!”

Ice veiled the tips of his fingers, careful blue veins creating intricate patterns. Zayne sat back on his haunches, cock still plugged into your clenching cunt, and traced those frozen digits down the column of your throat and towards your breasts.

“Cold! Cold! Stop that,” you yelped, swatting at his hand which diligently refused to be dissuaded.

Only the very corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, his smart, ever assessing eyes watching intently whilst he circled your puffy nipples and they stiffened further from the cold.

“You seem to react to low temperatures within normal ranges, how about warm temperatures,” he mused absently.

Without further warning, his head dipped and his tongue brushed your pert nipple. Zayne’s lips surrounded the bud and suckled with enthusiasm. The instant heat of his mouth bowed your spine and raised your ass so you were grinding yourself shamelessly against Zayne’s front.

“Zayne… fuck.”

The friction elicited from the coarse thatch of neatly trimmed hair at his pelvis caused you to mewl and whine. Your fingers carded through his dark hair and all rational thought flew from your mind.

Just as you were getting used to the hot sensation of your nipple being sucked and pinched by careful teeth, he switched. Ice enveloped the swollen skin, a burn gnawed at your gut but it was a pleasant one.

Zayne continued to tweak at your nipples in turn, cooling them down and warming them up with his tongue, all whilst he maintained a steady pace within you. His cock throbbed and your walls spasmed.

“My diagnosis,” he said quite suddenly, mouth breaking from your breasts with a shallow pant, “is that of brattitude. Quite a severe case too…”

You groaned aloud, eyes cast heavenward at the near orgasm that was close to cresting over you like a playful wave.

“Treatment begins now. I’ll make sure you continue to feel me all night long.”

The good doctor was true to his word, and come morning, the only thing you couldn’t feel were your legs.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

[sweetangelgirl7]

𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝜗𝜚 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 you and your friends decide to road trip up to the cabin in the midst of the wet, hot, american summer. however, you and chris haven’t been able to keep your hands to yourselves for weeks. just how hot will it get?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, praise kink, oral, unprotected, creampie, substance use, language, descriptive, recording!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.6k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hi, my first fic & smut story! this is highly inspired by t.i. west’s “x” (without the gore, of course). i tend to be descriptive with scenery and details so if you’re not a fan of that, my writing may not be for you. anyways, i hope it’s not bad, enjoy!

the texas summer heat filled the rickety old van as the five of you drove the open road, the dry warmth wrapping around your bodies like a blanket. the air conditioner was working overtime on full blast as you had your feet up on the dashboard, your manicured toes wriggling in the air hitting them through the open window.

your eyes trailed over the words of the book lying in your lap, trying to read through the slight feeling of motion sickness coming on. you sat in the passenger seat as matt drove, while nick, chris, and nate sat in the back of the van discussing useless topics to pass the time for the last hour or so. you all had been on the road since the break of day and it was already half past twelve as you were nearing the cabin.

the five of you took the weekend to road trip up to the country to relax and film content, when given the chance.

taking a brief moment away from your book, you looked out at the rolling yellow grass of the texas plains. as you all had been driving for hours straight, matt pulled off the dusty road up to a run down, road side gas station and drove the van up to the lone gas pump over the gravel. you let a sigh of relief out to finally stretch your legs and get a snack from inside.

“alright everyone out” matt shouted as the van door slid open, followed by the three boys in the back piling out into the warm air. you slipped your platform sandals on and stepped out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind you. it felt nice to stand up and walk around but more importantly, to finally tug at the tiny shorts that had been uncomfortably riding up your ass almost the entire ride. you adjusted your tube top and held your hair up in one hand, letting the breeze hit your neck clung with sweat and baby hairs.

matt was busy filling up the van while nick and nate had already made their way inside of the rural gas station. you began to walk up the gravel as you felt a hand smack your ass, flinching at the touch. “ouch” you hissed, turning to see chris walking past you.

“those little fucking shorts have been driving me crazy” he chuckled as a grin pulled at the corner of his lips, walking backwards to face you before he could turn around to head in through the door.

you and chris had been messing around for awhile now but the balls on the kid never ceased to amaze you, literally and figuratively. sneaking around here and there when the boys weren’t looking, hell, even when they were, touching in passing and under the table to drive one another crazy. it started as a bored summer night fling until you both realized that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves soon after the fact.

shaking your head with a sly grin, you joined the boys in the store as they grabbed snacks off the shelves to keep themselves sane for the rest of the trip. sliding the ice cream freezer open, you leaned over the cold air for a moment of relief, the chill instantly littering your skin with goosebumps. funnily enough, your felt your nipples perk up beneath the fabric of your top in response to the immediate crisp sensation. a natural reaction, in comparison to the sweltering heat for the past five hours.

reaching down to grab a bomb pop, the cold wrapper felt nice between your hand. placing their items on the counter, chris offered to pay for everyone’s snacks as the cashier scanned each item. the hum of the old radio filling the silence while they waited to tear into the food. standing next to chris, he glanced down at you as his attention slowly trailed down to your nipples on display through your tube top, in which he couldn’t wait to tear into you. a smile crept on his face before finally looking up at you, your eyes already locked on him. “up here, perv” you mouthed quietly, motioning to your eyes.

piling out of the gas station, you tore at the wrapper of the bomb pop before taking the frozen popsicle between your lips. closing your eyes for a moment, the cherry flavor turned them an artificial shade of red. chris tucked his wallet into his back pocket, walking near you as he watched your lips cling onto the popsicle, imagining them plump and red around his dick in it’s place.

“damn relax” he groaned in your ear, adjusting himself in his shorts as he walked behind you “save all that for me later, yeah?” he teased, planting a warm kiss on your exposed shoulder before you could push him away, not wanting the rest of the group to catch wind of his very blatant behavior. you looked him in the eye before licking up the side of the red, white, and blue popsicle, sucking on the tip while letting a small laugh escape as it lingered on your lips. “well unless you’re cherry, lime, and raspberry flavored, i don’t think so.” you teased, taking a small bite.

“i can be whatever flavor you want” he chuckled, smacking your ass once again, sending your body forward as he caught up with the boys to load up in the back of the van. you rolled your eyes, pulling your shorts down once more before finding your seat in the front for the remainder of the trip.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

as matt finally pulled up on the long winding road to the cabin you all unloaded your bags from the van, chris insisting on carrying your things. walking up the steps of the wood home nestled amongst the towering trees, you all couldn’t help but explore the grounds as you’d rented this place on a whim. the cabin was alone between hundreds of wooded acres, accompanied by a swimming hole and a rope swing that you already knew the guys would abuse throughout the weekend.

“alright, i’m fucking beat so i’m gonna wash off and lay down for a little. we can just meet up later and decide what we’re gonna do.” matt explained to the group, before the rest of them nodded in agreement. nick and nate were already out the door and into the woods, walking the lake trail to map out the site as there was essentially no service. matt headed towards his chosen room to put his things down and grab a quick shower.

leaving you and chris in the cozy open living room area, he looked over your half exposed body before nodding in the direction up the stairs to your room. you laughed, walking past him, purposely wanting to take the stairs in front of him knowing the fabric of your bottoms would cover little to nothing on the way up. taking a step up the creaking stairs, you turned back to him standing in the same spot. “well let’s go then, tiger” you teased, hooking your finger to gesture him in your direction. he grinned and began to follow behind, instinctively looking up your shorts to take a peak of the folds where your ass met your thighs as you walked in front of him.

“those goddamn shorts kid” he continued before you could shake your head as a giggle rolled off your lips “oh will you shut up about the shorts already” you joked as you made your way down the hallway and into the single bedroom upstairs.

chris put your bags down on the rug, before shutting the door behind him. he had one bag around his shoulder still that carried their equipment, placing it on the quilted bed before sitting on the edge.

he reached inside of the bag, taking out an old digital camcorder they recently purchased. usually nick and matt dealt with the technical equipment but chris had managed to get his hands on it for ideas of his own that he had been sitting on since the car ride. tossing it aside with a grin, he decided to come back to it later.

meanwhile, you walked around the room, dusting your finger across the shelves of knick knacks and picture frames that adorned the walls. you had a window with a view of the never ending forest, which you knew would give you problems later on when it got dark. leaning forward to slide the window open, you placed your hands on the window sill and peeked out to take a breath of the pine filled air. slightly jutting your hips sporting ‘those little shorts’ back to taunt chris as he watched you from behind.

“what are you doing with all that ass” he laughed as you turned to face him with a look of surprise. “who, me?” you feigned innocence, wearing a smug smirk of satisfaction.

“yeah, you. come ‘ere” chris spoke with a low tone of command. walking in his direction, the wood floors creaked beneath your sandals. your eyes flickered down to chris’ shorts, as you realized that wasn’t the only wood in the cabin.

“these old things really seem to work you up, huh?” you teased and tugged at the waistband of your shorts, standing between his spread legs as his eyes made their way up to yours. although nothing seemed funny anymore as his blue hues darkened over, trailing his hands up the back your thighs and over your ass. chris slowly worked on unbuttoning your bottoms as your hand reached out to rest on his shoulder in approval. he tugged your shorts and panties down past your thighs in one go, the sound of your clothes hitting the floor filled the room as you stood in front of him. he leaned forward to place a kiss against your pelvis as his hands gripped the supple skin of your ass.

looking up at you, he planted another kiss against your body before slipping his hand beneath the hem of your top, one hand locked in his brown wavy hair, pulling at the strands between your fingers.

he pulled you closer to him as you instinctively straddled his lap before you could pull at the fabric of his shirt between your fist. getting the hint without uttering a word, he pulled it over his head and tossed it to the side, letting the silver chain around his neck hit his skin.

you traced your finger over his bare chest, fiddling with the chain between your digits as he silently scanned over your face. the intensity behind his eyes grew by the second as he watched you graze his skin.

you felt his dick pulse beneath your exposed core as you mildly grinded your hips over his clothed hard on. the folds of your pussy teasingly rubbed against the thin fabric of his shorts every now and then.

“you wanna be a good girl and show me how you wrapped your lips around that popsicle?” chris asked with his head slightly tilted back, his voice low and raspy as he took your chin in his hand to look him in the eye. you nodded in his hold while he glided the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip, pushing your lips open for you to wrap around his thumb.

“aht aht” he smugly shook his head as you looked up at him before he gently lowered you from his lap to your knees. resting your hands over your already bruised knees, patched with shades of purple and blue, you sat up straight and looked at chris seated before you on the edge of the bed. looking down at you, he palmed the boner growing beneath his shorts.

standing to his feet, chris tugged off his shorts and boxers at the same time. his fully erect dick slapping his lower stomach as he pulled the waistband of his boxers down.

now standing in front of you, he took the base of his cock in one hand and pumped at it a few times before you could take him in between your fingertips. adjusting yourself, you leaned back on the balls of your heels and sat up straight to reach his length, letting a trail of saliva coat his throbbing cock.

“fuck” he muttered under his breath at the wet feeling, watching you take him in both hands as he caressed your cheek in his palm with the pad of his thumb.

“hold up” he broke out, turning back to reach for the digital camera on the bed that he set aside earlier. opening the viewfinder, he slipped the camera strap over his four fingers before pointing the blinking camcorder down at you, looking sheepishly up at him.

“chris!” you shouted, immediately hiding your blushed face behind your hand.

“c’mon show me your face, baby” he groaned, as the mere tone of his voice didn’t take much convincing for you to oblige. you slowly showed your face, looking up at the camera through your lashes out of embarrassment. “there’s my pretty girl” he cooed with a grin at the site of your face on the viewfinder. swollen lips and all, against the tip of his cock.

“go ahead” he mumbled, continuing to look at you through the camera.

you nodded your head before bashfully licking his angry red tip, flattening your tongue against his sensitive slit. chris hissed between his teeth at the touch, looking up at him past the camera you slowly wrapped your lips around his cock, just like the bomb pop. you moved your head forward, your hand still at the base of his dick as you slowly began to bob your head back and forth up his length. chris groaned at the sight, his hand now holding the back of your head. despite the pressure, you pulled back to spit on his dick again, letting it trail down your lips

“fuck…just like that” he let a drawn out moan behind the camera.

“you look so hot” he praised as you continued to move up and down his veiny cock, your hand twisting at the base as the other rested against his thigh. “you’re a fuckin’ star” he moaned lowly, zooming in on your rosy features. your cheeks began to hollow out as you sucked harder, the warmth of your mouth wrapping around him with every stroke.

as you continued, he felt his stomach clench as he was inching closer to his climax before a voice abruptly pulled you both out of your home video.

“we’re gonna go swimming, let’s go!” nick shouted to anyone that was listening in the house, as chris rolled his eyes followed by a defeated groan.

you giggled at his expressions, letting a slight popping sound escape as his hard on slipped out of your mouth and slapped against his stomach.

“no baby keep going, really quick for me, please.” he whined, tilting his head back as he didn’t want to be left with the pain of blue balls.

“aw, we can finish this later” you teased, wiping the corner of your mouth before standing to your feet as you turned to grab a bikini out of your bag.

leaning over, your ass was still on full display as your pink folds peaked out between your ass cheeks. chris grumbled behind you, slapping your ass as he rubbed the red hand print on your skin out beneath his fingers.

“later you can show me how those lips wrap around my popsicle” he mumbled quietly to the camera, slowly zooming in on your picture perfect core.

“christopher!” you shouted, covering the lens with your hand as he chuckled behind you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

after hours of swimming in the lake, you all had decided to finally get out and dry off by sunset.

matt and nate had already started a fire in the pit just off of the cabin porch as the rest of you grabbed snacks and drinks out of the cooler, attempting to dry up in the process.

sitting around the fire, you were cuddled next to nick on the benches surrounding the pit with a throw blanket wrapped around the both of your shoulders. chris sat on opposite side of you, wishing it was him instead of nick. the ember and haze of the fire rising between your eye levels as you two continued to steal glances throughout the evening.

for the rest of the night you all partook in traditional campfire activities. stargazing, s’mores, sharing passed down scary stories, and occasionally flinching at the sound of a twig snapping in the distance.

after a couple of hours, you decided to tug your boots on and call it a night. the boys stayed outside and passed a joint around, making them equally giggly as their laughter echoed through the still woods.

making it up to your room, you tugged the damp bikini off of your body and let the somehow still sopping wet material hit the floor. hanging the two piece over the headboard to dry, you wanted to wash off the smoky scent that lingered on your body. luckily, you called dibs on the master bedroom with a bathroom attached so you didn’t have to go too far.

after a much needed warm shower, you wrapped the white bath towel tightly around your body and wiped the condensation off the mirror to brush your hair out.

your attention on the brush in your hand was pulled away at the sound of a thump against your bedroom window. jesus, just what you needed after all those dumb scary stories. slowly peaking out of the bathroom, the noise had stopped altogether. you shook your head and brushed the sound off, continuing to comb through your soaking wet hair.

moments later it began again, tap…tap…tap against the window.

“what the fuck” you muttered to yourself as your heart began to beat faster in your chest. you tried to calm yourself down by the fact that you were on the second floor and there was no way someone could get up there without you hearing, no way.

tensely creeping towards the window, a small rock hit the glass causing you to flinch as your heart sank to your stomach. leaning your palms forward on the window sill, you saw chris looking up at you from the ground outside.

you rolled your eyes and let a sigh out, pulling up the window “you could just come inside, you know, instead of giving me a fucking heart attack.” you teased, sitting on the frame beneath the lace curtains blowing in the breeze as your pulse slowed to a normal pace.

“well, where’s the fun in that?” he whispered loudly so you could hear, a grin tugging at his lips.

“what do you want?” you asked, tossing your wet hair to one side.

“i’ll be up in a little, leave your door unlocked.” he cupped his hands around his mouth so you could hear him from the second floor.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

in the mean time you had slipped into your pajamas, a tiny white tank top and little red dolphin style shorts with white lining.

your hair still wet from the shower, you sat in front of the rustic vanity to begin braiding it before a quiet knock on the door pulled you away from the mirror.

chris slipped in through the door before shutting it quietly and locking it behind his back. he flipped the overhead light off, leaving you two in the shadows of the warm table lamp and the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in through the curtains.

“hey” he whispered, walking up behind you to press a kiss against your neck as you tilted your head to the side, looking at him through the mirror. his skin smelt of campfire smoke and weed.

“where’ve you been, playboy?” you laughed and reached a hand up into his messy hair, combing through his brown locks.

“i had to finish the j and find an excuse to come up here, i told them i’d be back in a little.” he muttered against your cool skin, his kisses making their way down the crook of your neck onto your exposed shoulders.

“speaking of playboys” he whispered, hooking his fingers around the straps of your tank top as you felt goosebumps at the touch. “lets film the happy ending, yeah?”

you let a quiet giggle out, as he tugged at the straps letting them roll of your shoulders. he left you with a kiss before walking back to the bed, sitting on the edge where he was earlier. you pushed your hair behind you and stood up, walking in his direction.

standing between his spread legs once again, he repeated his motions from the afternoon and slipped the pajamas you had off and onto the wood floor.

“naughty boy, been thinking about this all day?” you laughed while pressing a hand against his chest, gently pushing him back on the creaky bed. he pulled himself back up against the metal headboard as you crawled onto his lap, straddling his thighs between yours.

placing his hands on either sides of your thighs, he trailed a hand up your abdomen, taking your sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger. you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand at his touch “you’re always so pretty, y’know that?” he whispered, ignoring your question, looking up at you while his fingers lingered over your body.

you nodded at his statement, pushing your hair forward over your perky tits as your nipples poked out through the wet hair that clung to your skin.

you leaned into his chest, pressing your lips against his, as his hands trailed up over your ass, squeezing at your skin between his fingers. the kiss was heated and slow before gradually turning hungry, as your tongues began to fight against each other.

you tugged his shirt up beneath you before he could pull it off over his head, tossing it on the floor as your hand palmed over his cock straining beneath the swim trunks.

you continued to lock lips as your hand teased him over his clothes. grabbing your hips between his hands, he turned you over and pressed your back against the bed in one swift motion.

standing up on his knees between your spread legs, he looked down at you and your pink bundle of nerves, aching for his touch. twiddling with the gold necklace lying against your chest, you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as he leaned forward to push out saliva building in his mouth, trailing down your already wet folds. you winced at the feeling, slightly letting a quiet groan out as your head rolled back on the pillows.

he reached his hand forward to place on your pubic bone, as he rubbed his thumb out in circles over your sore clit.

your muscles twitched at the feeling, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed a handful of the sheets beneath you. chris looked up at you, your clit still under his thumb as a grin pulled at his lips “hm you like that, huh?” he groaned, palming his own pulsating dick while he watched you squirm beneath his touch.

chris quickly leaned over the side of the bed to grab the camcorder from the bag on the floor, opening the viewfinder once again. holding the camera in his hand, he pointed it up at your face currently flustered from the heat.

“time for your close up, movie star” he teased, leaning forward to gently slip two fingers into you as he pumped in and out slowly. curling his fingers upward, he watched as your back arched off the bed and zoomed out to get your whole body in the frame.

moving the camera down, he zoomed in on your pussy, letting a trail of saliva coat it again before rubbing his fingertips against you.

“tell me what you want” he groaned, looking up at you as you could barely speak from the anticipation building in your core.

“y-you, i want you chris” you groaned, now sitting up on your elbows to look up at him behind the camera.

“good girl” he cooed, the curve of his grin twisting father up his face. he shifted behind the camera, pulling his trunks down to reveal his throbbing dick, now the same veiny cherry red shade of the bomb pop.

taking it between his hand, he shifted the camera down to get his cock in the frame as he teasingly rubbed the tip against your soaking folds, both of your groans filling the silence. he continued for a moment, coating himself in your juices before lining himself up with your entrance. slowly pushing himself in, he watched his cock slide inside of you through the viewfinder, bottoming out as your walls wrapped perfectly around him.

“fuuuck” he groaned out, his eyes still on the camera as he used his free hand to push your thigh down farther on the bed. you quietly whimpered at the feeling as you adjusted to his size. the sound of your low moans, cicada hums, and ironically, the echoes of the train horn miles away breezing in through the window permeated the bedroom.

he looked down at you, while thrusting his hips slowly in rhythm. your skin sticking to eachother from the sweat as he zoomed out to get your entire body and his lower half in view.

“fuck, look at you.” he moaned, still pumping as you squeezed around his cock with every stroke. picking up his speed, he pressed his free hand between your lower hips over the slight bulge peeking through as he was in and out of your stomach, now drilling into you.

“you look so fucking perfect, taking my dick like that” chris moaned nearly out of breath, narrating your film with his low husky tone.

you reached above your head to wrap your fingers tightly around the metal headboard, squeezing until your knuckles nearly turned white. the mix of sweat and water had your baby hairs sticking to your skin as you took him. your face scrunching up, eyes closed, in euphoria at the feeling of him hammering into your cervix.

“look at me baby” chris growled as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, the tightness in your stomach continued to build as he fucked you.

“fuck- chris, keep going” you whined, eyes welling up with tears as you looked at the camera through damp eyelashes.

“just like that pretty girl. i want to see your face when you cum all over me” he thrusted into you harder and faster, as your jaw fell open at the feeling, pornographic moans escaping as he slammed the back of your head into the headboard.

“harder baby” you whined, although you didn’t know how much harder than this it could get. you watched chris’ expression of concentration twist into a smirk “what do you say?” he groaned as the brown curls saturated in sweat began to stick to his forehead. “plea-” you gasped as he fucked the words out of your mouth before you could even finish, not needing to say much more as he evidently proved you wrong.

the tightened feeling in your stomach continued to build as he screwed you before you felt a long final strain rise in your abdomen. “oh my fucking god” you screamed out, your back now arched up off the quilt beneath you with a handful of sheets between your fingers. coating his cock in your white milky cum, you let out a whine as he pulled an orgasm from deep in your stomach, feeling your muscles flutter at the release.

although you had reached your climax, chris continued to thrust in and out, your arousal now lubricating his dick even more. his eyebrows furrowed with concentration, wrapping his hand tightly around your thigh to use as leverage.

“c-chris i can’t” you whined, gathering the strength to sit up on your elbows as you watched him pound in and out between your folds. your face scrunched up and lips parted, letting moans escape through your swollen lips. your stomach tensed at the feeling as your abs clenched, the position you were laying in causing him to hit the deepest part of you cervix, over and over.

“i’m almost there baby, c’mere” he moaned out, reaching up to grab your chin with his hand. he pulled your face towards his, smashing his hot lips against yours for a moment. “ where do you want me?” he groaned against your lips, leaning forward as he pressed his hand into the bed next to you to hold his weight “inside me, playboy” you moaned out, grabbing his face between your hands before reaching your fingers up to his hair to push the wet brown curls brushing over his eyes, out of the way.

he nodded his head, as he continued to thrust inside of you a few more times before his lips parted open against yours. “oh fuck” chris let out a low moan, his stomach and chest twitching as he released before he could stand to his knees once again. his thick, white, cum warming you inside as he filled you up.

he flowed through the motions a couple of more times before finally pulling out, sore at the sensation. he panted out of exhaustion, adjusting the camera between his hands as he shifted the focus down to your pink folds now leaking with his white seed. “jesus” he groaned low, zooming in on your pussy. “look at that” he admired the sight as you let a quiet giggle escape beneath heavy breaths.

he smiled, both of you equally out of breath as he shifted the camera up to your face now flushed a deep pink “there’s my girl” he whispered as you brushed the sweat and flyaways at the crown of your hair.

“come here” you murmured, sitting up to gently pull his chain towards your body. closing the viewfinder, he dropped the camera on the bed side table before falling on top of you. holding himself up with his hands on either sides of your body.

“you’re gonna delete that, right?” you giggled, looking up at him as a smirk played at his lips, shaking his head.

“oh absolutely not, i’d be fucking stupid to ever get rid of that.” he chuckled, leaning forward to press a warm kiss against your lips. “your name’s gonna be in lights after that performance.”

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: okay so this is my first story lmao, please let me know what you think! 🫣 my inbox is open & all interactions are so greatly appreciated. thank you! ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[heirofnight]

meddling, pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: the next little installment of pure preciousness revolving around these two. no plot, just fluff. azriel is smitten with the idea of doting on reader - he's just pure and sweet and wants to make her life easier. reader wears azriel's sweater, and his heart almost explodes. azriel then rearranges the entire library for reader because she can't reach her favorite books. enjoy!

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love revolving around this little drabble-turned-series! this is another example of me sitting down and just writing until i feel like stopping. no plot, just cutesy fluff. i hope you love it! also lightly edited, sorry for any mistakes. <3

read part one here

six months ago, you'd arrived at the house of wind. for the first two months, you had gone to great lengths to isolate yourself from the high lord and his family. while you'd had no initial negative feelings towards the group, you'd prioritized cultivating a peaceful environment for yourself after the past you'd so narrowly escaped from. this involved keeping to yourself, finding solace in the private library a few doors down from your rooms, and not speaking to anyone else.

four months ago, you'd been tricked into attending your first family dinner in the dining hall on the second floor. funnily enough, the house itself - along with one of az's stray little shadows - were the reasons why you'd ended up frozen in the archway of the dining room, every instinct in your body screaming at you to flee to your chambers. after polite coaxing from rhys, and encouraging nods from azriel, you'd felt welcomed as a new member of the tight-knit inner circle by the end of the meal.

you still found yourself looking back on that evening and smiling fondly.

now, this evening, you were perched on your favorite chair within the library, book in hand. you'd cycled through several different series over the last few months, and tonight, you were beginning a new trilogy that you'd found tucked at the top of your go-to shelf. the tall, wooden display of books contained a myriad of novels in every genre you could imagine. you struggled to reach the top row of books, which - of course - contained your favorite genre: romance. you briefly wondered if the males that resided here had sequestered books about love in this hard-to-reach spot on purpose. you'd had to grab a footstool and still stand on your tip-toes to reach the novels you'd desired.

alas, you'd finally grabbed them - all three at once, to save yourself the exertion of all but climbing the entire shelf when it was time to move onto the other two books in a few days.

you were snuggled comfortably in your favorite armchair, large droplets of rain pelting the side of the library's windows. it was dark, gloomy, and the perfect reading weather. a fire burned brightly within the hearth across from you, warming your legs and toes. dim fae lights and candles flickered a relaxing glow into the space.

you nuzzled into an oversized, lived-in, charcoal grey sweater. it belonged to azriel - well, it had - and his scent still lingered as if it were woven into the threads themselves.

he'd silently approached you last week, same sweater folded neatly in his hands, politely extending the fabric your way. you'd abandoned the focus on the book in front of you to meet his gaze, brows cinching together in silent confusion.

"you said you were always cold," he started, voice quiet. he always spoke to you so quietly. gently. and he wasn't wrong, you truly were always freezing - a fact the house had learned, too. it made sure to always have the hearth burning in any room you were occupying.

you smiled fondly up at him, nodding once. "i'm surprised you remember that, az," you said, a faint rosiness creeping onto your cheeks. he noticed your blush, and it made the corner of his full lips quirk upward.

he huffed out a quiet breath in response, extending the sweater a little further towards you. "i thought maybe this would help. i don't ever really need it - illyrian blood, you know. i'm always warm. anyway, i understand if you don't want it. but i promise it's clean, and when i have worn it, it's always kept me warm. so...-," he trailed off, realizing he was rambling, full of nerves. now it was his turn for his cheeks to turn pink, and he cleared his throat, breaking the eye contact.

a wide grin spread across your cheeks as you reached forward to take the large, soft sweater from his hands. "thank you, az. really. this is perfect," you whispered shyly, holding the fabric against your chest. he smiled proudly, a dimple peeking out.

and that was that - he walked over to his preferred spot within the library, wings perked in pride. he made himself comfortable with a book of his own, and you both read in silent companionship.

tonight, you'd adorned that same sweater as you let the sound of the rain outside become the soundtrack to your escapism. out of your peripheral, one lone shadow twirled through the door of the library - your favorite little tendril. you glanced up as it approached you, swirling around your right hand as it always did in greeting. you smirked, knowing its master was not too far behind.

sure enough, in strode azriel shortly after - the rest of his shadows lazily twining around his form. his eyes found you immediately, and his steps faltered as he realized you were wearing his clothing. that dimple made another appearance as he smiled shyly, cocking an eyebrow upward.

"keeping you warm?," he asked, taking in how cozy and well, adorable you looked like that. in his clothing. reading a book in the candlelight. azriel was in trouble, and he knew it.

you nodded, sitting up straighter as you took him in. his hazel eyes were nearly glowing. "very. it's my new prized possession," you smiled, and that comment nearly made azriel's heart burst.

he hummed, quite pleased. "good. it looks like it was made for you," and he meant every word. maybe he should give you every piece of oversized, warm clothing he owned. they looked far better on you, anyway.

you looked back at the open pages of your book, smiling, trying to hide the blush creeping from your neck up to your cheeks. he noticed anyway - he noticed everything.

"how's that one?," he nodded his chin towards the book in your hand as he got comfortable in his own armchair. his wings spread behind him in a relaxed fashion.

"oh, i can't put it down," you sighed, looking up at him once more.

he hummed, glancing around at the tall spread of novels that surrounded the both of you. "i've never seen it on the shelves", he mused, brows furrowed as he studied the closed cover of your book.

you took a sip of your tea, snorting in jest after you swallowed. "probably because it's tucked away on the highest shelf in here," you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes fondly. "i had to use a step stool, and even then, i barely reached it."

he nodded once, studying you for a moment. he looked as though he was pondering something. the moment ended quickly, his own eyes averting to the pages in the open book before him.

the next day, you'd entered the library after breakfast - as always. what surprised you is that you weren't alone like you normally were around this time.

azriel was already there, positioned in front of your favorite shelf, pulling every single romance book down from the top row.

"...az?," you questioned quietly, trying not to startle him. "what are you doing?," you stepped forward, peering up at him. his large hands held a stack of books, most of which you'd already read.

he turned towards you, cheeks quickly tinting pink. "oh, y/n," he paused for a moment, looking from the stack in his hands and up to the top shelf before meeting your eyes.

"well, you said that the books you enjoyed were too high. so.... i rearranged a couple of shelves to make sure they were at a height you could reach," he smiled bashfully.

you froze in place, taking in the entire scene before you. and sure enough, he'd already moved most of the romance novels. and beyond that, he'd also relocated them to a shelf that was right next to your favorite chair. you could literally just reach over from where you normally sat, easily plucking your next choice from the row without having to move.

you smiled widely up at him, eyes twinkling, and he swore his heart was going to swell and float right out of his chest.

"az," you breathed out, "can i hug you?," you blurted, overcome with emotion.

he huffed out a laugh, carefully setting the stack of books in his large hands down beside him. he nodded then, opening his arms for you.

you stepped into his large frame, and he stilled for a moment. he shifted to hold you tightly, and his wings twitched with the sudden urge to wrap around you too. his arms didn't feel like enough, you should be closer.

instead, he settled for moving one hand to the back of your head, cradling you against his chest. he smiled to himself, another wave of pride flowing through his chest and limbs.

he could get used to this.

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun

if you'd like to be added, pls let me know <3

[shalomniscient]

thinking about mornings w arle mmmmm…….. she used to wake up before dawn, back when she was a harbinger. it was a discipline quite literally beaten into her as a child, her body waking on autopilot an exact half-hour before the sun rose every morning. but now she lets the sun rise fully, then hang in the sky for a while, before she slowly opens her eyes and returns to the waking world.

the first thing she does, of course, is turn to look at you. the tenderness of your sleep-touched expression, the delicate part of your lips as you roam in that blissful land of dreams. archons above, it has to be one of her favourite sights in the world.

yet funnily enough, despite also being from the house under that woman, you’ve always had a tendency to sleep in. she remembers having to roughly shake you awake so your entire dorm doesn’t get punished on your account. and even before her retirement, she’d be the one to rouse you from your sleep, regardless of how guilty she felt. you always looked so peaceful, and she loathed having to see the way the lightness of your expression harden as you wake up and shoulder the weight of both your responsibilities once more.

(she tried, once, to let you sleep in while she got a little headstart in her paperwork. she had slipped out of your arms and your shared bed with a soft kiss to your temple, fixing the sheets and her pillows before she headed to the kitchen to fix herself some coffee. not nearly fifteen minutes later, as she’s adding the milk to her coffee, you stumble into the kitchen, and arlecchino has never seen you so distressed before. her coffee is immediately forgotten as she spreads her arms wide and lets you fall into them, and the thing in her chest that she once thought could no longer feel aches as she listens to the sleep-slurred admission you breathe into her shoulder.

i thought i lost you, you had said, your voice so small and distraught in a way arlecchino never wanted to hear again. in response, she had held you tighter, and abandoned both her work and coffee to lead you back to bed and hold you until the warmth of her embrace burned away any of your fears.

i’m staying, she had whispered against your hair, as you slowly drifted off back to sleep. for as long as stars do shine.)

but now, retired as you both are, late mornings are a luxury you can both indulge in. well, most of the time. and mostly you, as a tiny smile starts to tug at her lips as she hears the tell-tale pitter patter of footsteps down the hall. she braces herself just in time before a tiny figure crashes onto her body in a fit of giggles. arlecchino lets out a faux groan as her daughter clambers all over her, a small mess of limbs, but catches the little girl just in time with a single arm before she can topple onto you and jolt you out of your sleep.

“let’s not wake your mother, hm?” she hums as she tucks the child against her, resting her chin on the her small head, feeling her chest warm at the sound of that childlike, delighted laughter. and when her daughter looks at her, it’s with your eyes, and it’s like she’s seeing all the reasons she fell in love with you all over again.

and for all her former discipline, if the universe asked her if she would like to stay here in this moment forever, the only answer she could ever give is yes.

[theemporium]

A green-eyed mojito with Quinn Hughes and promt 28 please 🙏🥰

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

28. “I trust you, I just don’t trust them."

.

“You don’t look very cuddly right now, Huggy.”

“Shut up.”

“Yikes, snappy too.”

Quinn turned to glare at his teammate, his brows furrowed and his lips turned downwards as he watched Brock try to withhold his laughter. If anything, the glare just made him laugh harder as he watched Quinn seethe away. 

“I can make you do bag skates at the next practice,” Quinn warned. 

Brock’s grin widened. “Before or after the little green monster in you explodes because your girlfriend is being hit on?” 

“Once again, shut up.” 

“You know I’m right,” Brock sang happily. 

And he was. He was fucking right because Quinn was jealous and he fucking hated it. Because this happens every single time the Canucks played the Ducks and he had to watch everyone of your brother’s teammates fawn and flirt with you like he wasn’t standing right there. 

“It just comes with the territory of dating a Zegras, Cap. They attract people, it’s a part of their charm,” Brock added before pushing him towards where you were standing along the sides, chatting away to the Ducks players on the ice who were meant to be warming up. 

Unfortunately, Brock was right once again. You were an outgoing person, just as talkative and charming as your brother (but thankfully nowhere near as annoying). You were a beacon to people, they were just pulled towards you. And some people mistook that chatty nature as meaning something more. 

Case and point—the Ducks player that was smiling at you the way only Quinn should be able to smile at you. 

“Five minutes left of warm ups, you should really use it,” Quinn bit out as he skated towards where you were standing, his face remaining blank as he looked at the Ducks players with pointed looks. “Beat it.” 

You raised your brows in amusement, waiting until you were alone before you turned to your boyfriend. “What was that all about?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged.

Your lips twitched upwards. “Babe, are you jealous?”

“Funnily enough I think that’s a very fair emotion to feel when some random guys are flirting with your girlfriend,” Quinn retorted, bitter and annoyed. 

“Aw, baby,” you cooed with a grin as you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his jersey to tug him closer to the boards. “You know you don’t have anything to worry about, right?” 

“I trust you, I just don’t trust them,” Quinn confessed, glove tucked under his arm so you could intertwine his hand with yours. 

“Well, unlucky for them, I have a very specific type,” you mused. 

Quinn raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I only like hockey players with really cute nicknames and a C on their jersey and look amazing in the colour blue,” you said, trying to keep your expression serious but it was hard when you watched his cheeks blush at your words. “Oh, and they have to completely thrash my brother when they play his team to humble him.” 

Quinn smiled. “I’m sure I can manage that.”

“Good,” you hummed before placing a kiss to the back of his hand. “Now go! I’ll be the one in the stands wearing your jersey, screaming the loudest.”

“My favourite fan,” Quinn joked.

“Your number one fan,” you corrected with a smile.

.

[sunvmars]

bitter sweet | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader

next ↠

word count: 2.8k

warnings: obv swearing, pregnancy/pregnant reader, some angst that's mainly reader trying to cover up hidden emotions

summary: you've grown to resent steve after a breakup and give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news.

a/n: definitely turning this into a series if it gains enough traction!

It was a warm summer evening like any other when Steve had asked you to come straight home after work, insisting he had something important to talk about. You had entered your shared apartment with expectations of a nice dinner or a movie night. Considering Steve was always one for suspension, surprise plans and at-home date nights weren't unusual.

You set your purse down on the table by the front door before sinking into your favorite recliner. The setting sun cast a glow amongst the living room that you greatly appreciated, although it was a glow that was far too beautiful to be wasted on that night.

"Steve! I'm home!"

Only a few seconds after you'd called out had he come, practically, running. He came to sit on the couch, only a few feet away, his expression conflicted.

"I missed you today," you said.

You beamed at your fiancé, simply happy to see him after another shitty work day. While you were an Avenger, you stuck to mainly office work when you had no missions.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n, honey, I think we need to talk."

Your heart sank, and a lump formed in your throat. You knew Steve like the back of your hand, and every time he has said the words "we need to talk," it's never been good.

"Is Buck sneaking over to eat all of our sweets again? I thought you talked to him about that," you joked in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Funnily enough, no, he hasn't done that in a few days."

"Well, don't jinx it."

He chuckled briefly. His hands ran over his face as he sighed, and his broad shoulders relaxed.

"I've been thinking- a lot," he began, avoiding your gaze. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You hummed, giving him a nod that allowed him to continue.

"I love you, but..."

As soon as you had heard the "but," you tuned out. Whether it was by choice, or whether your mind and heart already knew what he was going to say and were just saving you the extra heartbreak, you weren't sure. You did, however, catch the last part of it. And luckily, the last part was all you needed to hear from him.

"I can't allow this to continue. I'm no good for you, y/n. I can't be the man you need or deserve right now. It's not fair to keep you waiting while I'm still trying to figure out what I want."

Your brows furrowed as your body started becoming tense. "What...?" you muttered.

It was less of a question and more of you thinking aloud, vocalizing your confusion. Unless you were a completely oblivious idiot, things between the two of you were fine yesterday, and every day before that for the last two years. He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret that you somehow missed.

"I... I can't take the risk anymore. I need to focus on my responsibilities and protecting the world. It's just... I can't let my personal life get in the way of my promise to the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could fall. You had the same job, so how could the man who had proposed only a few months ago just now, after two years, decide he couldn't make this work because of his job? Either way, that man didn't deserve your tears, so you wouldn't waste them on him. You stood quickly, not bothering to look back at him as you made your way towards the door.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Please say something, baby-"

"Don't! You don't get to call me that anymore," you snapped, finally allowing yourself to show some sort of emotion. "Just...stop. There's nothing else to say."

His eyes widened a little at your sudden outburst. You picked up your purse and keys hastily. Your fingers fidgeted with the keys for a moment, then you started sliding your house key off your keychain. It was then that you decided to speak again before he got the chance to, not caring to hear another word from him.

"I'll have someone come get my stuff tomorrow; do whatever you want with the apartment, as long as you don't have to contact me to do it."

"Y/n," he spoke with softened, glossy eyes, "please, just stay until you find somewhere else to go. This is your home too, I-"

"There's too much of you, well, what used to be us, here," you stated plainly as you placed your key on the table. "Where I go isn't your problem anymore anyway."

A sigh escaped your lips as you slung your purse over your shoulder. You turned to face him one last time as you stood in the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, "You are a fucking coward, Steven Grant Rogers."

The door slammed behind you. And what you'd left behind was a deeply regretful, and utterly stupid, Steve sitting alone on the couch in the apartment you once shared.

That was almost two months ago, and your heart had not allowed you to heal at all. As if seeing Steve in passing at work wasn't painful enough, now you had an important mission coming up tomorrow, and being chosen to go with him was inevitable. Or at least you thought it was inevitable. It had all started earlier in the morning with a rotten egg- an actual rotten egg, that is.

You were baking cookies for Bucky, fully aware of how much he'd miss your baked goods for the next week or two you would be gone. Over the time that you and Steve had dated and been engaged, you'd gotten pretty close with the brunette. He was equally supportive of both of you during the breakup. Though he did lay into Steve for leaving you. Bucky knew there was more to it than his job; both of you had the same job for Christ's sake, but he didn't push his friend for answers—at least not yet.

With one gentle motion, you cracked the egg on the side of your metal bowl. However, this egg had a smell to it. You brought it closer to your face to observe and smell it. What a horrible mistake, though, because as soon as you inhaled the sickening, sulfur-like scent, it made your stomach turn. But instead of going back to normal, you gagged. The scent was lingering longer than any other scent you'd ever smelled, almost as if you were permanently damned to having the smell stuck in your nostrils.

Then the hot stomach acid started coming up, and it was coming fast, signaling you needed a trashcan now. You bolted towards the nearest bathroom, preferring to take a chance on making a mess in a hallway rather than the kitchen. You passed Steve and Bucky on your way there, both men stopping dead in their tracks to watch as you ran into the bathroom only a few feet behind them.

"Huh," Steve mumbled, his heart throbbing at the sight of you.

"Sometimes I get sick when I look at you too, punk."

Bucky chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from Steve.

"Go check on her for me, please."

"Always. But I won't keep giving you updates on her, y'know? It's not fair to her, Steve," Bucky sighed.

Steve only nodded in understanding, a smile only staying on his lips for a few seconds. He patted Bucky's back before turning on his heels and continuing on his path.

Your stomach clenched harder, and the vomit raced up your throat faster than ever. You barely got to the toilet before retching and gagging again, feeling instant relief when the bile finally came up. But then came a sudden second wave of nausea that seemed to be worse than the first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the torture finally ended.

You stood up slowly and made your way to the sink. After tearing off a piece of paper towel, you dampened it under warm water. You wiped your mouth off with the damp napkin and threw it away before opening the door to leave.

"You okay?"

You jumped back slightly, looking over to meet piercing blue eyes. There was Bucky leaning up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his arms crossed.

"Jesus, Buck. You stalking me?"

"Stalking you? Definitely not. If I wanted to stalk someone, I'd find someone more interesting who doesn't eat half pints of vanilla bean ice cream and watch Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook every night," he jokes.

"Hey! It's how I cope and get over things; it's soothing."

"Yet you still pine over him, so how's that working out for ya?"

"...not great. Maybe I do need a new method, huh?"

The two of you exchange a laugh, and you start making your way back to the kitchen with Bucky right on your heels.

"So, are you okay?" he questions again.

"Just felt a little sick, that's all. And, hey, here's a tip: don't ever smell a rotten egg, it's not a pleasant experience," you say with a soft sigh.

He chuckles at your joke and replies, "Thank you for that. I'll remember that."

When you make it to the kitchen, he plants himself on a bar stool only a few feet away from you. You decide to continue making your cookies, holding your breath as you clean up the old egg.

"Wow, I can smell that from here. You weren't lying. That is bad."

His nose turns up and his face scrunches, earning a giggle from you. You two chat as you make the dough, and soon enough, you're finished baking. As you put the last cookies on the tray, Bucky stands up to get a closer look.

"God. Per usual, those smell amazing," he groans, reaching for one of the hot sweets.

You swat his hand away with a laugh. "Not until they're cooled down!"

He fakes a frown that makes you laugh again. You shake your head, making a 'tsk' noise at him.

"You're a menace, Buck," you joke.

He only shrugs his shoulders with a lopsided grin, then he pulls you into a hug. "Somebody has to get on your nerves. It keeps you distracted and on your feet," he teases.

"Thank you for being here for me."

Your body relaxes in his arms. You wrap your arms around his upper waist to return the sentiment. You take a deep breath and then pull away from the hug.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"It's almost like it never happened," you smirk.

"That's a lie, and you know it."

You're about to speak again, but close your mouth as soon as it opens. The nausea pools in your stomach again, forcing a huff out of you.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"You're still feeling that bad over it?"

"No, I genuinely think I'm gonna throw up again, Buck," you say hurriedly, pushing by him to get back to the bathroom. "Put those cookies in a bag, Barnes! They're all yours!"

He chuckles and holds his thumb up in the air, even though you can't see it. "And you get yourself to the doctor, l/n."

And going to the doctor is exactly what you chose to do.

Well, almost.

You instead chose to go to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and you only decided to go after about the fourth wave of nausea that came around five hours after the first. Which is how you ended up in the lab with grippy socks on and a cold Sprite in hand as you await blood and urine test results.

"So, how are you holding up, kid?" Tony asks, his eyes glued to his computer.

"Been better, had better days."

He looks away from his computer for a moment, making eye contact with you. "I could just kill him for hurting you, and I hope you know that," he states, his voice carrying nothing but genuine honesty.

"Aw, Tony, you're just like the dad I never dreamed of having—violently overprotective and overdramatic."

Bruce chuckles, but Tony just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his computer.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice to you," Tony scoffs, trying his best to hide the smile that wants to creep onto his face.

"I'm going to take a walk, Tony. I'll be back in a few minutes," Bruce announces as he rises from his chair. "If the computer beeps, it's her results coming back."

"Got it," Tony responds plainly, entirely too distracted by something on his screen.

The computer beeps only a few minutes after Bruce walks out, indicating an update to your information. Tony swivels his chair over to the big screen and pulls up your test results. He studies them carefully, not saying a word.

"So...what's wrong with me?"

He's still silent when he turns to face you. At first, he looks shocked, but then his brows furrow and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. If you hadn't known him for as long as you have, you'd think he was judging you based on his facial expression, but you knew he wasn't. He looked conflicted and confused, almost hesitant.

"What is it, Tone? You're freaking me out here. Is it the flu? A stomach bug? Food poisoning?"

"How about a baby?"

Your jaw drops, literally. The words pool in your mind, and your brain starts feeling like it's going to explode from all the different emotions and thoughts. You start to feel sick to your stomach again but manage to push the feeling down.

"I..." you start, unable to find the words to finish.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Bruce. We need to set you up with a doctor. I have an amazing one I can call to come here and-"

"I appreciate that, Tony, but I need time to think first. We'll, uhm, talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course," he empathizes, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "Come here, kid."

You shuffle your way into his open arms, not having the energy to return the hug. He pulls away after a few seconds and allows you to step back.

"I think I'm gonna go...or something... I don't know," you mumble, making your way towards the door.

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is something you want, don't let him ruin it for you."

As soon as you leave the lab, it's like you're on autopilot.

Your feet took you to the downstairs office, then outside, and then to your car. When you get into your car, you tell yourself you're going to the store to grab some more ice cream. But your heart has other ideas; ideas such as Steve.

So, you drive yourself all the way to Steve's apartment, just wanting to be comforted by the familiarity for a moment. Then, somehow, you end up outside the front door of what used to be your shared space.

Your soft knock pulls Steve from the closest to sleep he's been in weeks. He curses under his breath, loathing whoever is at the door for ruining his chance at a few minutes to hours of peace.

However, that hate replaces itself with regret and adoration as soon as he opens the door to reveal your slouched-over form. Steve recognizes that look on your face, along with your body language, and it's evident that something is wrong.

As if you showing up at his door isn't surprising enough, you look up at him before letting yourself fall into his arms. He stands in shock as you lay your head on his warm and familiarly sculpted chest. Then sobs wrack through you, shaking your whole body, and that's all it takes for him to give into instinct and wrap his arms around you. The heat of his body and the feeling of his embrace provide a warming comfort as you cry into his shirt, only coaxing you further to let it all go.

One of his hands rubs your back gently while he holds you. "Y/n? What's wrong, honey? Talk to me," he coos.

You feel a tightness in your chest, a feeling that you can't put into words right now even if you tried your hardest to. In fact, all you can do is cry more as you hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt. You practically crumble into his chest, melting in his arms, and Steve understands. That's what made you fall for him in the first place, honestly - he always understands.

So, with no more words spoken, he holds you in the same doorway you walked out of only a couple of weeks ago. He holds you in that doorway until your tears slow and your breathing returns to normal. At some point, his thick fingers begin combing through your hair soothingly, the same way they used to every night at bedtime.

"I don't know what your stance on kids before marriage and after a breakup is, but you should figure it out soon," you mutter into his chest.

His body freezes, and his mind scrambles to catch up with your words. He looks down at your head, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Are you truly saying what he thinks you are? You couldn't be...

"I'm pregnant, Steve."

[sun-snatcher]

[ SLUMBER ] FROM YOUR PROMPT WITH ANOMALY!READER & CHAMBIT I BEG YOU

♧ ⎯ IN-BETWEENER'S ILIAD

summ.  You slip into a dream. Remy is reminded he’s not yours. Not in a way. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader , (established in #WELUCKYFEW) a/n.  A quick blurb! A spot of world-build, angst, and soft Gambit.

YOU TAKE UP THAT OFFER in Professor Xavier’s school.

Nothing crazy, Laura had told you. The Professor’s just looking for substitutes. Tutor on the side, maybe, for those who need a little help.

Your BioMed PhD serves you well. ( Though you didn’t quite have the proof of documents— Charles had only needed a second of a venture through your memories for the truth. “Welcome home,” is all he’d said, after. His gaze was kind. “And I am so sorry.” ) 

Falling into stride doesn’t take long. The Academy grounds are as memorable to you as the back of your hands. It’s mostly your mutant students and the nostalgia of meeting the X-Men— some familiar faces, some startlingly different— that tuckers you out.

The Professor introduces you as an alumni, funnily enough. You cover Biology; spend your days tutoring for other subjects when it calls for it— Science, Chemistry, Mathematics. School nurse in a pinch, too.

It’s no wonder Remy catches you dozing off on the chaise sofa, red pen clumsily lost on the carpet floor underneath a coffee table of scattered assignments and half-marked paperwork, household vinyl player humming by the corner.

Not an uncommon sight, lately. He usually sees you burning the midnight oil when he’s off to the pub downtown. (“Night-shifts as a Croupier. The locals love me an’ it’s honest work— jus’ a lagniappe that Gambit be enjoyin’ it, too.”)  *

He shifts to a crouch to meet your shut eyes.

“Chèr,” he whispers, trying not to startle you. “Can’t be makin’ dodo here.”  *

No answer. Your soft lips are parted. Susurrus, butterfly-wing breaths.

The jaundiced lamplight left switched on by the TV pours over you like a chiaroscuro. Sleep has you boneless with relaxation— hackles not raised and prepared for a fight; not throwing cursory glances at the shadows over your shoulders.

(War changes people. You’re still trying to get better at dismantling that habitual weariness. Logan gets it.) 

Against his better judgement, Remy tucks a strand behind your ear. 

A hum. You stir. Eyes lift heavily with sleep. 

…Gambit?

“Oui, chèr.”

Mission success? you mumble. S’everybody okay?

It takes Remy a moment to realise. 

You’re not… here. You’re lost somewhere in-between the waking world and dreaming. Unmoored between different branches of timelines; adrift in pelagic-vast realities. You’re talking to phantoms. Haunted by a Remy long gone.

Something pangs in his heart.

He can’t quite decipher it. A blur of compassion, contrition. 

…Quiet disappointment. 

“Mais oui,” he breathes. (You can feel the timbre of his hushed voice in your head. Accented. Gentle. You’re lulled, further and further.) It wouldn’t do to confuse you now, afterall.

He dips forward.

Winds an arm under your knees and your shoulders, then lifts you with gliding ease. Careful, even in his footfalls as he makes his way down the hall and to your bedroom, cradling you like glass against his chest— Safe; Secure; Impossibly tender coming from a man monikered after the Devil himself. 

Exhaustion drags you under once you sink into your pillows, feel the ghost of his warm touch linger at your nape.

G’night, Remy.

He doesn’t know who you’re speaking to, this time.

“...Sweet dreams, chèr.”

*Cajun footnotes:

Lagniappe — extra Make dodo — to go to sleep

[covetyou]

when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

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"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

[outsideratheart]

You Should Have Told Me (Alexia Putellas x reader)

Being away from Alexia was never easy. In fact it got harder as time went on. Luckily for you it didn’t happen often, only really when you went back to Australia whether it be for national team camp or to be with family. This time was the latter.

Like always, you and Alexia spoke to each other and found a way for it to work with the time difference. You were getting into bed and tried calling Alexia but she didn’t answer. You thought she might be busy so you text her and wait for a respond only one doesn’t come.

When you wake up the next morning you find the reason for her radio silence. A tweet which makes you feel sick.

Alexia Putellas will undergo arthroscopy surgery on 27th December.

You are filled with worry but you are also mad at your girlfriend. Why on earth were you finding this out in the internet and not by the woman herself.

Despite your mixed emotions you find yourself on a flight back to Barcelona after a length apology to your family. Funnily enough they knew it was coming as soon as they saw the news. They had only met Alexia once but the love you had for her was evident. They saw it on your face every time her name popped up on your phone.

It was the 27th by the time you arrived home or to your other home. Everyone was well aware of your relationship with Alexia so the nurses didn’t question it when you arrived at the hospital asking for her whereabouts.

“Y/N” Alba greets you with a warm hug “Alexia didn’t tell us you were coming”

“Clearly Alexia is going through a not telling people stuff phase”

Alba swallowed deeply. Your annoyance was clear and if that wasn’t a telling sign, you calling her sister by her full name was.

“Y/N I didn’t—“ Eli joins the two of you in the hall but stops talking mid sentence when she sees her youngest daughter shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t mama”

“She is in there” Eli point the door behind her “she didn’t want—“

Again she was cut off, this time by you.

“Don’t fight her battles Eli. She knew what she was doing. Feliz Navidad by way” you kiss both women on the cheek.

The two of them watch you enter Alexia’s room.

“You two need a lesson in manners. You know it’s rude to interrupt people” Eli says to Alba given that you are in the hospital room.

You get a sick sense of deja vu when you enter the room Alexia’s in. The same happened last summer and you stayed by her side for the entire thing. It’s why now didn’t make sense. You looked up the surgery, it was minor. Why didn’t she want you here now but happily had you with her then.

Alexia pays no attention to you when you enter and although she is there physically you can tell her mind is far away.

“I know I’m not your emergency contact but I would of thought being your girlfriend earned me a call or at least a text”

This got her attention. It was a good job she was already at the hospital because the speed in which she turned her head could have given her whiplash.

“Mi amorcito”

“Alexia”

Her faces changed at this. You could almost see her wince at the formalness.

“I deserve that” she knows she did wrong by not telling you. Still, she pats the space next to her hoping that you’ll join her on the bed.

She watches each step you take, you get closer to her but stop at the foot of her bed.

“What? I don’t get a hug? I am in the hospital” she tries to get you to crack a smile but fails miserably.

“Repeat those last 4 words”

“I am in the hospital” she is slightly confused because you clearly heard her.

“We have been through a lot together Alexia. Yesterday you told me everything was fine, the medics had given you a green light and that you were packing for the trip. You lied”

“Y/N I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted —“

“Miss Putellas it’s time” one of her doctors come in.

“Give me a minute” Alexia doesn’t ask, she demands “I’m in the middle of something”

“No. Take her. We’re done here”

At first Alexia panics. What did you mean by we’re done here. It sounded almost like a break up but before you leave you walk over and kiss her temple. It was a small sign that you were not breaking up with her.

Her eyes remain on you as you walk out the door. Her mother steps in her eye line and Alexia recognises the look on her face; she is in trouble.

“You didn’t tell her, idiota!” Alba appears from behind their mother.

“Alba not now”

“No Mija, she’s right. When you wake up you need to fix this. That girl is the best thing to happen to you and you know that you should have told her. Alexia, she is your girlfriend she had a right to now”

“Por Dios! I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing”

Alexia truly did think that. You had been with her to every physio appointment since the champions league game. You hadn’t been back in Australia long when the decision was made for her to get surgery. You had played the most minutes this season so far and for the sake of your own health you needed to rest, to recover.

She wanted you with her and truth is she needed you with her but she sacrificed that solace for you.

The surgery took two hours which is within the predicted time or least that’s what Google told Alexia when she looked it up. She woke up and saw two woman, neither of them the one she wanted to see.

“She left, didn’t she?” Alexia looked defeated as she came to.

“She did” Alba replied with a wicked grin on her face.

“But then she came back” Eli told the whole truth.

Alexia watched as her mum and sister stepped aside revealing you curled up on the chair fast asleep.

“I think the jet lag must have caught up with her. I saw the girl drink three double espressos but even they couldn’t help fight the urge to sleep” Eli explained.

Your girlfriend knew the battle all too well. She saw the way the time difference affected you when you travelled for international camp. Sleep always won in the end.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Alexia asks her mother specifically only to earn a response from her sister.

“Of course she will. Y/N loves you and I’m talking the type of love dad had for mama. I think you’re stupid for not telling her but knowing you, you probably thought you were doing the right thing”

“No, she was being stupid” your raspy voice gained the attention of all three Putellas women.

“I was and I’m sorry”

You and Alexia were given some privacy.

“I am sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“What did you think would happen? I found out my girlfriend would be having surgery on twitter. Strangers found out the same time as me”

“I wanted you here with me but you needed to be with your family“

“I needed to be with you. I love you and nobody comes above you Ale.”

“But you were supposed to be in Australia. You had plans to spend new year in Sydney. It had been planned all year”

“You’re wrong Alexia. We were supposed to be in Australia. We had plans to spend new year in Sydney. We planned it together. I don’t care where I am as long as I am with you”

“I should have told you”

“Yes, you should have. Are you able to squeeze up? I’ve had enough of being mad at you”

Alexia knows that she’s strong enough to move and does so happily. She would do anything if it meant having you beside her. It came as no surprise that you were the little spoon in the relationship so Alexia naturally holds you close.

“I’m scared Y/N. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had the surgery and I put in the work. I was back and now look at me. I’m back at the beginning again”

“No you’re not. This isn’t like it was before. Your knee is stronger now. I called the physio on my way to the airport and he told me everything. The surgery was only an investigation”

“Would you still loved me if I’m not as good as before? If I never win another balón d’Or?”

“Alexia Putellas Segura, what silly questions those are. I loved you long before you won your first and I will love you long after you hang up your boots. I fell for the person, not the player and you’ll do good to remember that”

Alexia took a moment to take in what you had said. Her greatest fear was that you’d leave her but deep down she knew that wouldn’t happen. Your words only reiterated this.

“Did you return the outfit? Nurse Y/N might be needed again”

You jokingly gasped at her suggestion. When you look up you see that her eyes have darkened slightly. She did love you in that criminally short costume.

“I think I have it somewhere” you cup her cheek and Alexia leans into your touch.

[sgrdoll]

sunshine

synopsis - bucky’s therapist tells him to get out of the house more and he meets the human embodiment of sunshine.

warnings - smut, tooth rotting fluff, dom/sub dynamics, oral male & female receiving, spanking unprotected sex, mentions of PTSD, pet names, bucky struggling with his mental health

a/n - i really left yall hanging for MONTHS. if you read this at all i am thankful because if i was my own reader i would ignore this post out of spite lol. critiques are welcome since I haven’t written in so long. replies, reblogs, & likes are appreciated!! :)

masterlist

wc: 5k ish

The rain outside pelted against Bucky’s leather jacket loudly. He groaned and stepped into a nearby library to escape the less than ideal weather. He welcomed the warmth that enveloped him.

He looked around for a moment, it seemed like he was the only person in here. Stepping into the dark library felt like switching dimensions in comparison to the loud bustling streets of New York, add in the incessant rain and it was a nightmare out there in the real world.

Bucky wiped his feet on the rug before stepping fully inside the library. He didn’t have anywhere to be, he was really only out because his therapist thought he was getting a bit too comfortable in isolation. Of course, that was true, however, he still despised having to interact with innocent people he had the potential to hurt.

The library was dimly lit and had books from floor to ceiling. There were even miscellaneous piles of books scattered around his feet on the floor. All of the colors that surrounded him were neutrals but they felt so comforting and inviting. The library he stepped into was cozy and he had no qualms about being trapped here while the rain poured outside.

Deciding to make the most of his time, Bucky walked toward the nonfiction section. He loved reading books that had anything pertaining to the military, it was something that had stuck with him through his childhood and into adulthood. He slipped into the narrow aisle and scanned down the shelves.

His fingers gently grazed the spines of the aging books in front of him. Bucky was slowly relaxing into the silence that the library provided for him.

His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

Bucky’s first thought was His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

He moved his attention away from the doe-eyed girl that was a little too close to him and refocused on the combat books in front of him. Funnily enough, the books about violence were distracting him from his fears of violence.

It took a few moments, but Bucky’s anxiety slowly trickled off until it was nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

That was until the pretty girl smiled at him, “Hi.”

Her tone was warm and kind and she was obviously inviting Bucky to have a conversation with her while they shared the aisle of old books so intimately.

His eyes widened slightly but he quickly took his composure back from the perfect girl in front of him that seemed to be stealing it.

“Hey,” he almost cringed as soon as he said it. His voice was much too rough in comparison to the gentle tone she was using to speak to him.

“Do you read a lot of nonfiction?” Her head cocked cutely to the side which made his heart beat a little faster.

“On the rare occasion I pick up a book, yes,” he answered after a beat of silence. He was mentally high fiving himself at such a collected response considering the effect she was having on him.

“I’m grabbing some of the old medical journals for some of my writing,” she answered the question without being prompted.

“What do you write?”

“I mostly do romance but my latest idea has been murder-mystery.”

“Oh, so you’re a novelist?” Bucky was beginning to feel more comfortable with the conversation now. The girl in front of him now felt like a breath of fresh air rather than a suffocating hand around his throat.

“Not exactly a superhero, but it pays the bills,” her smile was infectious and Bucky couldn’t help but grin.

“What’s your name?” He leaned back against the shelf behind him.

“I’m Amelia. But most of my friends call me Milly,” she answered him without breaking her gaze.

Amelia was very confident it seemed. But, not in a cocky way, her confidence was kindness. She radiated an energy that could only be described as pure gold.

“I’m Bucky,” he told her.

“I know. I saw you on the news last night, you save the world a lot it seems.”

Her comment made the tip of his ears burn red, “I guess you could say that.”

“Don’t be so modest. I think it’s cool, you’re like a real life comic book character,” her flattery was like ten arrows pointed straight at Bucky’s anxiety, slowly dwindling it down to a tiny stump that sat in the base of his stomach instead of the huge tree that once took over his entire body.

“You’re acting like you don’t have the coolest job in the world,” he rolled his eyes playfully at her, “You’re the one who gets to make the comic book characters.”

Their conversation continued and they slowly migrated over to the leather chairs in the corner of the room. They sat down next to each other and he told her his war stories while she took little sips of her coffee.

Every small movement she made, every little flip of her hair, all of her crossing and uncrossing of her legs, enticed Bucky even further into her spell.

“I love the rain,” Amelia said to him after he complained about the horrific weather, “It’s so pretty and calming.”

It confused him how she could find violent thunderstorms calming.

“The only reason I even walked into this library was to get away from the mess outside,” he replied back while looking through one of the windows to see that the precipitation had slowed down to a gentle mist now.

“Well if there was no rain, you would’ve never met me,” she smiled at him.

They had been talking for at least two hours by this point, but it felt like only twenty minutes. Everything was so easy with Milly. Conversation was like an ever flowing river with her, it just was so smooth and easy.

All he could feel was her energy, not the pain of his past, just her. For two hours, what happened to him fifty years ago was just that, the past.

She was pure light. She radiated warmth, she was what made flowers grow, she was what supported life on Earth, she was the sunshine.

Bucky looked down to check his watch and noticed the time. His eyes widened a little bit and he glanced back up at Milly who was happily chatting about her cats Moose and Sushi.

“Am I talking too much?” She suddenly stopped and looked down at her lap shyly.

“No! Of course not,” he quickly reassured her, “It’s just, it’s getting late.”

“Oh,” she said, a little disheartened he was finished talking to her.

“How about dinner?” Bucky didn’t even think about what he was saying until it was out of his mouth. It was very spur of the moment and he wish he could go back in time and think about the consequences that might come of taking her out.

“Dinner?” She repeated back as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah, I know this great Thai place a few blocks down,” he smiled at her trying to tamper down his own racing thoughts.

Her pale pink nails clicked against the now empty coffee cup in her hand as she thought, “That sounds great.”

The pair stood up and Bucky took notice of the cloudy sky no longer pouring rain. He almost smiled at the thought of how long they had been talking. Not one notion of violence or hurting her had crossed his mangled brain.

They stepped out of the library and into the street. Without thinking, Bucky grabbed her hand and guided her down the street.

Milly hoped he didn’t notice the pink tint on her cheeks and trembling hands.

The duo were both lost in their own thoughts about one another and walked in silence while the world around them moved at an impossible pace.

Bucky stopped at a door on the corner of the street that Milly had always assumed was abandoned.

“I’ve never been here before,” she commented to him as he opened the door for her.

“I don’t know many people who have,” he chuckled.

No one greeted them but that didn’t seem to bother Bucky who led her to a booth in the corner without any guidance from the staff.

Milly slipped into the booth first and Bucky very surprisingly sat on the same side she did.

Bucky was testing himself. He wanted to see how far he could go without any thoughts or flashbacks to the life he used to live.

Their shoulders touched and he basked in the warmth she brought him, both physically and metaphorically.

He looked down at her and she was trapped in his unwavering gaze. Her lips parted and Bucky’s heart hammered loudly in his chest. They didn’t speak, they just drank each other in like sweet wine.

“Can I take your order?” A woman with a thick British accent interrupted them.

Bucky’s head whipped around and Milly was ripped from her trance with him. Their picture perfect bubble had burst.

He cleared his throat quickly, “Sorry, um, yes I think we’ll both have the chicken pad thai and some water.”

The waitress chewed her gum loudly while writing down the order and Bucky offered her a small smile.

“Sorry, I just sort of guessed on what you would want,” Bucky said almost sheepishly.

“I like chicken pad thai,” Amelia responded back with a smile.

He locked eyes with her again, “Do you think you want to do this again tomorrow?”

She laughed cutely at him, “We aren’t even done with today.”

“I think it’s gonna go well.”

His confidence almost shocked her. All day it felt like he was walking on eggshells but now she felt like she was getting all of him, not just the parts he felt like showing. The thought made her stomach flutter.

Their meal went on with lots of flirtation. Knees touching and hushed giggles were like their own secret language.

When the bill came Bucky deflated. He wasn’t ready to give up the sunshine yet.

He put his card down and the waitress came back with the receipt far too quickly. Bucky felt his time with her winding down and coming to an end.

“Hey,” he blurted out, “Do you want to come to the tower with me?”

“What tower? Like the Empire State Building?”

“The Avenger’s Tower.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, “Are people even allowed in there?”

Bucky’s heart stopping smile appeared once again, “Of course, and now you have an invitation.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she frowned.

“I won’t get in trouble. Tony’s not even in town this week. I think Steve’s the only person there.”

“It sounds like we would be breaking the rules,” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, “It makes it more fun.”

She sighed, “As long as we don’t get caught. I really don’t want to be in trouble with the most powerful men in New York.”

He smiled, “You could never be in trouble with me, doll.”

Amelia could’ve passed out. The dominance that oozed from just that sentence made her head fuzzy and knees weak.

She tried to play it off by rolling her eyes and he laughed again.

Bucky stood up from the booth and reached his hand towards her.

“This time we can take a car to the Tower. It’s probably unbearably cold outside, especially with that skirt on.”

“I’m wearing fleece lined stockings,” she defended.

He tried his hardest to not daydream about what was underneath those stockings.

The pair walked into the windy night of New York. The rain had returned as a mist that made the horizon hazy and gray.

Bucky tucked his dog tags into his long sleeve shirt. Similarly to him, Amelia was struggling not wondering what else he could do with his hands.

A car pulled up to the sidewalk and the two quickly got in.

Bucky brushed some stray rain droplets from his hair and she jumped back and giggled when they landed on her face.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and he silently wondered how he was going to get through the rest of the night without grabbing her by the neck and kissing the hell out of her.

She smiled up at his now serious and poked his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he said after she finished her laughing fit.

Her cheeks reddened and her nose scrunched. She really was perfect.

The traffic wasn’t as horrendous as Bucky expected and they made it to the Tower quicker than he thought they would.

She was enamored by the bright lights of the Tower. The glow from the building reflected in her brown eyes like dazzling stars.

“C’mon,” he interrupted her gawking, “I’ll show you around.”

Bucky escorted her out of the SUV and to the front of the building. He remembered feelings just like she did when Steve first brought him here, impossibly small.

“Let’s go in. I promise it’s much more impressive from the inside,” Bucky said to her.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Milly asked one last time before they went in.

“If I say no will you still come in with me?”

“Bucky,” she whined, “Please don’t get me into any trouble.”

The pout on her lips sent his mind into overdrive. She made it hard for him to form sentences sometimes.

“I won’t,” he regained his composure, “It’ll be fun and if it’s not I’ll take you right back home.”

She begrudgingly agreed and they walked into the glamorous building.

Reinforced glass walls surrounded them and a few employees strolled by without a second glance at her.

“Wow, it’s really pretty in here,” Milly breathed out.

“It’s definitely not the tax bracket I grew up in,” Bucky chuckled.

“Do you guys live here?”

Amelia knew she was being nosy and almost immediately regretted asking. Bucky however didn’t bat an eye and answered her quickly.

“I share a floor with Steve on one of the top levels and Nat sometimes stays here, but that’s it.”

“You have your own coffee shop,” she said pointing to the 24/7 coffee cart situated in the lobby.

“It’s incredibly convenient,” he chuckled, “Do you want to see the upstairs?”

His cheeks turned red, he didn’t want her to have the wrong impression of him. Bucky didn’t want to have some one night stand with her, although he wasn’t opposed to taking her up there and fucking her stupid.

“Sure. What floor are you on?” She asked while walking toward the elevator. Amelia didn’t even catch the innuendo.

“Floor 8,” he stepped on the elevator, “Let me put in the stupid passcode.”

He punched in four digits and rolled his eyes, “Tony is way too serious about security.”

The ride up was quick and relatively quiet. When the doors opened to Bucky’s penthouse suite she audibly gasped.

“Wow. You live here?” Her tone was practically incredulous.

“Have for 3 years now, sweetheart.”

The room was mostly decorated with neutrals except for some artwork on the wall.

Bucky noticed her eyeing it and offered an explanation, “That’s Steve’s contribution, he loves to paint.”

“It’s beautiful here. I would be scared out of my mind to even cook in a kitchen as perfect as this one,” she eyeballed the million dollar penthouse.

“I’ll use that as my excuse the next time Tony scolds us for not eating at home enough,” Bucky joked.

Amelia turned her attention back to him, “Did you say Steve was home earlier?”

“Let me check, he might’ve gone out with Natasha,” he said while walking out of the room and calling out for his flatmate.

When he figured out Steve wasn’t actually home as he originally thought he leaned against the wall. He had barely any time to process that there was a beautiful woman in his apartment. A beautiful woman that he wasn’t scared of harming. Someone who took all of those bad thoughts away from him.

Bucky had never felt this way before. It was the first time in a long time he wasn’t scared of himself.

He sighed in relief at the feeling of not having to worry. It felt like he had just finished the marathon of his life and finally got to sit down when he was around her.

After taking a couple of seconds to process he walked back into the living room to see her sitting on the couch looking at the view of the city.

The wall was glass and it made for a beautiful backdrop in their home. Especially tonight, when the stormy clouds parted just enough to see the full moon.

He went to the kitchen quietly as to not disturb her and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Bucky took a deep breath and strolled towards the couch and sat down. He placed the wine glasses on the table in front of them.

“It’s beautiful out there isn’t it?” She commented.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said, staring at the side of her face.

“I brought some wine if you want any,” Bucky offered while pouring his own glass.

“No thank you, I hate the taste of wine,” she scrunched her nose again.

“I can grab some water or juice for you,” he offered quickly. He felt like a terrible host.

“No, that’s okay,” she finally turned her body towards his.

His breath stopped when he saw her brown eyes gazing into his own. Bucky didn’t even think about it when his hand touched the right side of her neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

She reciprocated quickly and grabbed the bottom of his shirt in her fist as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Their lips moved against each other for a few seconds before he slipped his tongue in her mouth. She sighed into him and pressed herself closer to him.

Bucky picked up her smaller frame and placed her in his lap without breaking the kiss.

Millie straddled him and grabbed the short hair at the base of his neck.

“Fuck, Amelia,” he breathed out when he pulled away.

Her sweet giggle filled the room as their foreheads touched and their chests heaved in unison.

“You're really good at that,” she said, still out of breath.

He chuckled at her, “I wanted to kiss you all night. It’s a surprise I’ve made it this far.”

“Are you gonna stop now?” Milly tilted her head and pouted her lips.

Bucky threw his back and cursed, “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman right now.”

Amelia kissed a hickey on his neck and leaned in next to his ear, “I’m not asking you to be a gentleman, Bucky.”

It felt like all of the resolve he had left in his body had snapped and he wrapped his calloused hand around the soft skin on her neck. He squeezed the sides of her throat and watched as her eyes took on a glimmer he hadn’t seen before.

Milly challenged him with a smile he wasn’t expecting, “How did you know just what I liked?”

“I never pinned you for a girl who liked to be thrown around,” Bucky’s eyebrow lifted in surprise but the grin remained on his face.

“I never pinned you for a guy who liked to throw girls around,” she returned his smile.

Even with his hand wrapped around the delicate skin of her neck he wasn’t scared of hurting her. Bucky felt fully in control for the first time in a long time.

“Safe word is red, baby.” Bucky smirked after a beat of silence

His hand tightened around her throat once again and he kissed her. Amelia’s hips grinded down against his lap.

Her short skirt slowly started to ride up until Bucky’s hands found the hem and pushed it all the way up.

His hands wandered down from her neck to her hips. Bucky moved her against him. He felt his pants tightening to accommodate how hard he was.

Amelia pulled away from the kiss and leaned her head against his chest as he continued to move her hips against his own. All that could be heard were her shaky moans and the sounds of bucky sucking a trail of hickeys down her neck.

“Not so confident now, huh baby?” He taunted her when he felt her thighs shaking around him.

“Please stop teasing me,” she begged with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Aw, but you look so cute squirming on my lap,” he mocked her.

Gone was Bucky’s almost shy demeanor, now he was domineering and arrogant.

Amelia could feel herself getting wetter by the second, “Please, Bucky. Please fuck me.”

“Only because you sound so sweet when you beg.”

Bucky moved her and stood up from his position on the couch. He took his black shirt off and let it fall to the ground.

He almost groaned when he saw her look up at him from underneath her lashes. Her eyes were full of want and it made his chest hurt.

Amelia stood up from the couch and then dropped to her knees and looked up at him with a cute smile.

“Fuck, not as innocent as you seem huh?” He chided while she ran her hands up and down his jean clad thighs.

Her fingers ran across the prominent bulge a couple of times before she began to unbuckle his belt.

Bucky could tell she was reciprocating his teasing from before and teasing him.

She gentle pulled his boxers off and let his cock stand proudly in front of her.

Milly inhaled deeply and tried to keep her confidence from before as she stroked him gently. Before she put her mouth around Bucky she looked up at him and he gave her a small reassuring smile.

That gave her all the confidence she needed to take his length down her throat. She bobbed her head up and down until her eyes watered and mascara trailed down her flushed cheeks.

Bucky groaned out loud, “Jesus fucking Christ Milly. You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat and tears in your eyes.”

Amelia sucked hard on Bucky’s length and his hands found their way into her thick brown hair.

She stopped moving and looked up at him expectantly.

His jaw almost dropped when he realized she was waiting for him to fuck her face. She had to be created in a lab or something. There was no way she was that perfect for him.

Bucky’s hands gripped harder into her hair and he started to fuck her mouth.

He felt himself getting closer and closer as he fucked her mouth at a sinful pace. Bucky took her off his cock and Milly frowned.

“I want you to come down my throat,” she pouted.

Fuck, she feels like the answers to all of life’s problems.

“Not tonight. Tonight, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said pulling her up from her knees.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

She stood there for a moment without moving.

“Now, Amelia. Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.

This made her strip off her sweater and her ripped tights. She unzipped her skirt quickly and looked back to Bucky for instruction.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Bucky praised her and cupped her cheek.

His words were so kind and reminded her of the way he was earlier in the night. Amelia wasn’t sure which side of him she preferred, the domineering and brash Bucky or the kind and soft spoken Bucky.

She took a step towards his hulking frame and ran her hands over his abdomen. She felt his taught muscles twitch underneath her wandering fingers as he kissed her again.

He maneuvered her back onto the couch where they previously were and perched her body on his lap without taking his lips off of hers.

Bucky broke the kiss and whispered gruffly, “Over my lap.”

Amelia could tell by his tone that it wasn’t request. She shivered at the dominance he displayed and did what he said quickly.

Bucky ran his his large palm over the tan skin of her Milly’s ass and had to stifle a moan. Her body was a fucking masterpiece.

Amelia could feel his hard on pressing into her middle and she wanted nothing more for him to be inside her.

Without warning his hand came down harshly on the sensitive skin of her ass.

She gasped when she felt him spank her. She rubbed her thighs together at the feeling of the sharp pain.

Bucky took notice of this, “A painslut too? Very cute.”

Milly’s face turned pink at the name but she couldn’t deny that it made her feel that much more turned on.

Bucky gave her a few more before finally ending her anticipation and reaching down in between her legs.

She almost sighed in relief when his hand glided over her folds. Bucky rubbed small circles over her clit. His fingers went between her dripping hole and up to her clit torturously. All she wanted was for him to be inside her, in any way possible.

He was rewarded for his efforts with her cute moans egging him on. Finally, he slipped a finger into her and she gripped his thigh hard, surely leaving marks where her fingernails were digging into his skin.

He pumped in and out of her heat at a pace that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. He had a second finger and curled his fingers right into the spot that made her see stars.

Her pants were audible, “Please, Bucky! I’m about to cum.”

As soon as she said it his pulled his fingers out of her. She whined at the loss of contact and sat up from her position over his lap.

“Bucky, please!” She whined hopelessly.

“Don’t be such a brat, you’re gonna cum tonight,” he rolled his eyes at her.

Milly pouted up at his handsome face. Before she could say anything else she was being scooped up into his arms and trotted off somewhere.

“Where are we going?” The whine in her voice was still there.

“My bedroom,” he responded in a short manner.

Bucky opened the door to his bedroom and threw Amelia on the grey duvet of his bed.

She didn’t even get a chance to look around before he was once again on top of her kissing her.

Milly squirmed underneath him and let out helpless moans.

Bucky pulled away and let out a mocking laugh, “You’re so desperate for my cock huh? How did I find such a perfect cockwhore?”

Amelia wanted to cry at how badly she wanted him. It felt like she had been teased for millenniums.

Bucky ran the tip of his length through her folds to get her even more worked up.

“Please!” Tears clouded her vision.

The sight of her crying for him to fuck her was enough to send Bucky into a spiral. He finally pushed into her heat.

He threw his head back and they let out simultaneous moans. He slowly started to pump into her velvet walls.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me, baby.”

Amelia couldn’t form words all she could do was whimper and clutch onto his sheets as he pounded her into his mattress.

Bucky grabbed her leg and threw it over his shoulder and watched as her mouth opened into a silent scream at the new angle. He smirked as he fucked into her, he knew she was close.

“I’m gonna cum,” she panted out at him as she arched her back up into him.

He grabbed the headboard and set a brutal pace when he felt her tighten around him. Bucky was sure this was what heaven felt like.

He felt her constrict around him even tighter and arch her body into his own. Her moans came to a crescendo and she came undone around his cock.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling her cum around him was his final straw and he released inside of her.

Feeling him cum inside her made Amelia preen. They stayed connected for a moment before he pulled out of her and laid next to her panting body.

She turned toward him and pressed her head into his chest. Bucky kissed the crown of her head and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her body closer to his.

“Was that okay?”

“It was perfect, Bucky.”

[undying-love]

Paul being very secure about his sexuality: A compilation

"The reason why we didn’t do Up Against It wasn’t because it was too far out or anything. We didn’t do it because it was gay. We weren’t gay and really that was all there was to it. It was quite simple, really. Brian was gay…and so he and the gay crowd could appreciate it. Now, it wasn’t that we were anti-gay – just that we, The Beatles, weren’t gay."

“It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, ‘Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.’ I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes. I think we all gave that impression."

Q:  You must be very secure with yourself.

Paul: I think it is that. I'm OK with gay people, too, because I'm essentially comfortable with my sexuality. I can goof around with gay people. I sort of know who I am by now.  And it's about time.

"I imagine he heard it [Dear Friend]. I think he listened to my records, but he never responded directly. That wasn't his way. We were guys; it wasn't like a boy and a girl. In those days you didn't release much emotion with each other."

"One thing he told us was that one in every four men is homosexual. So we looked at the group! One in every four! It literally meant one of us is gay. Oh, fucking hell, it’s not me, is it? We had a lot of soul-searching to do over that little one."

"There's a song I do called Here Today which is specifically written for John. That sometimes catches me out. I realise I'm telling this man that I love him and it's like I'm publicly declaring this in front of all these people I don't know. I sometimes wonder what I'm doing.

Q: In “Here Today”, you talk about your love for John. Did you ever say that to him, in those days?" Paul: No. I'm sure we both felt it. But that is not something two boys use to say to each other. If they were gay, maybe. Otherwise it is rare that that happens."

"My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don't call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, 'Shit, am I gay?' I like that you don't have control over it. But there is some control -- it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in."

"We were in New York before he [George] went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. "

"Yeah, I think he [John] did [love me], yeah. It wasn’t actually a spiky relationship at all. It was, uh, very warm, very close and very loving, I think. All The Beatles. We used to say, I think we were amongst the first sort of men to come out openly – and you remember, it was quite sort of strange in those days, we’re talking about a long time ago now when homosexuality was still sort of largely illegal."

"Because he [Robert Faser] was gay, it raised a few small-minded eyebrows, and funnily enough, one or two of them were from within the Beatles: ‘Hey, man, he’s gay, what you going off to Paris with him for? They’re gonna talk, you know. Tongues are going to wag.’ I said, ‘I know tongues are going to wag, but tough shit.’ I was secure about my sexuality. I always felt this is is fine. I can hang with whoever I want and it didn’t worry me. I mean, we didn’t share a room or anything."

"With Robert’s thing of course there would be gayness. But there was no open gayness. If there was to be gayness it would be a quiet phone call that Robert would go and take in the bedroom or something. That was one of the good things, actually, because I knew he was gay and he knew I wasn’t gay so we were quite safe in our own | sexuality. We could talk to each other. "

Lastly, there is this odd anecdote that may or may not mean anything, but here it is:

One of the strangest of these incidents came at the end of 1992 when Mark Featherstone-Witty attended the MPL Christmas lunch. Mark took an accountant friend to the meal, a McCartney fan he'd known for years, which led to a strange and unpleasant row. By Mark's recollection, Paul's manager Richard Ogden summoned him into the MPL office the next day where he read him the riot act for bringing an unwelcome guest to Paul's party. 'What do you mean by bringing someone who was so obviously gay to Paul's Christmas party? Have you any idea about the responsibility you carry in this project?' he allegedly asked. 'What are you talking about?' replied Featherstone-Witty, explaining who his friend was. 'But he was gay, you stupid fucker!' 'No, he isn't.' 'You've got to be careful. You can't do anything that would embarrass Paul...'"

Fab : An intimate Life of Paul McCartney by Howard Sounes

[laaundromat]

Building Love, Steven Grant

Summary: Steven has unconsciously set himself up on a date with his crush.

Literally just a fluffy drabble

He had one single minute of calmness the whole day, when he had just woken up and was still bleary to the world.. from then on, all his composure left him to stumble on his own steps the moment he recalled making plans with you for tonight.

 He felt his teeth clatter in edge every time at the thought of you: with your kind smile and sweet words at him, no matter how many minutes he was rambling at you for. You were striking in an effortless kind of way, a type of simple that warmed his heart, made him feel at peace from all his constant worries. You always succeeded at creating a safe place for him, even unknowingly.

 Today though, no matter how hard he thought back to the way you would caress his forearm whenever he profusely apologized for spiraling through Egyptian trivia, his nerves couldn’t find peace. The matter at hand felt more final than any other meet-up you two had. 

 Before today, it had always been about causally running into each other, to gradually spend more time together by sitting in the nearest bakery or simply walking around with no end in mind. He had grown into his real self around you without even noticing, and, when he did, it had been Marc to point it out. 

(He blushed beet red at the realization, and said nothing to quiet the other two’s snickers).

 And maybe, he reasoned with himself now, he had let himself become too comfortable around you.. ‘cause in no way had he thought he was able to ask you out without pouring his blazing hot coffee onto you, and maybe unconsciously insulting you in the process as well.

 All the way through the morning he had fought with both Jake and Marc, stating not so firmly that it was in no way an actual date, just a more planned meet up than your usual. 

 Though, the pair had very believable arguments and in no time Steven was having a nervous breakdown thinking of all the possible ways he could fuck the date into pieces.

 He thought of cancelling it, of even standing you up, but Jake had him thinking of your sad eyes and wobbling lips if so, and the notion didn’t last long.

 Sure, you knew most of him by now.. you knew his favorite aspects and periods of ancient history; you knew he had trouble sleeping (and not by his own accord of telling you, but by how observant of him you were); you knew how he liked both his tea and coffee; you knew he liked all kinds of plants, but didn’t have the time or patience to keep some in his apartment; you knew he was wary around the topic of family, and you knew he had a special soft spot for his one-finned fish. But the biggest part of him was meant to be kept hidden, and he didn’t know how far he could go with you.

 Marc and Jake weren’t fully on board with his crush on you, thought a relationship would complicate things, what with their personal and “work” situation, though they didn’t find it in themselves to do much more than scolding him the moment he had asked you on tonight’s date. Secretly, you were beginning to grow on them as well, and it was scarier than anything else they experienced in some time, funnily enough. 

(Marc was most wary about Steven’s quick fondness for you, and how he was going to end up brokenhearted, inevitably).

 He got cleaned and dressed ridiculously early, with the nicest black pants the three of them owned, plus a white shirt and black jacket combo. On his way he stopped at a small shop and bought you a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates, and from then on there was no coming back, and he was really hoping you did think of it as an official date.

 He was purposely ten minutes early, a small tangent of time he could use to calm himself down, but as he rounded the corner he saw you already there, beautiful under a light pole, gnawing at your rosy lips and holding a paper bag in your slightly trembling hands. 

 He had never been so nervously happy to see you. 

You hear his tentative steps when he’s closer, and the way your face brightens at the sight of him makes all three of them melt in the chilly weather.

 “Steven!” You breath out softly, but eager nonetheless, and in no time he has your arms around his chest, heart beating under it.

“ ‘ello, love..”

He had to hold himself back from placing a gentle kiss on your temple when he felt your cheeks puffing up with a smile at his voice.

When you part, his arms are awkwardly stretched in front of you, hands carefully handing you the pink box.

“They’re your favorite.. I thought I’d stop by to get them for you.. there was also a really cute Taweret plushie that I wanted to buy you, but it was kinda big and I didn’t want you to have to bring it everywhere tonight.. would’ve been inconvenient, y’know..”

He’s a rambling mess already and you’ve yet to say more than three words to him, but as Jake was about to soothe him with encouraging words you beat him to it by extending a hand on his forearm, grip tight enough to ground him and a gentle ‘thanks’ right on tow. He decided right then, that it was his favorite gesture to ever receive yet.

Yet in mere seconds, your face was mirroring his from just moments prior, a sheepish glance above red cheeks that you were trying to dissipate in him.

“Yeah I- I got you something, too, actually. But, erm, it’s breezy out here, no? I made a reservation at a place right around the corner. I couldn’t find a wholly vegan restaurant, but I checked the menu for you and there is a big choice, so I hope it’s fine for you. My friend told me it’s good, so I’m relying on her!”

On the way, he walked purposely close enough to touch shoulders with you at every step, a feeble attempt to calm you down from the spiral of word you weren’t in control of.. no matter how endearing it was.

Inside the restaurant, you were sat across from him with fairy lights all around you creating a halo above your head. He realized he was about to fall in love with you, and he didn’t have the energy to find what wrong could come with it.

“Here,” you placed the infamous paper bag in front of him. “I hope you like it.. there’s no return policy for it.”

He chuckled with a shaking head, now almost fully relaxed, “I’m sure I’ll love it, sweetheart.”

(Too caught up with opening the wrap around it, he didn’t notice the way you blushed from the nickname).

Inside, there was a Lego flower bouquet, bright and warm and just so you… but at his slight silence, you launched forward, hands on the table, apologetic in you expressions.

“I thought- with this being a first date I’d bring flowers but I know how you struggle to keep them with your sleep schedule and so I thought it could be something you keep in your apartment instead of real ones.. I’m sorry if it’s childish I-“

He gently, with shaky hands, placed your gift on the table (wrapper folded neatly under it) to slide off the boot and approach you with tentative steps, eyes wide open in wonder.

Marc and Jake were quiet in his head, torn between either take some bricks away from the built up wall, or make it even thicker. To themselves, it was useless to deny the attraction towards you, but they had swore to not let it become anything more. But how could they, when you’re seated there, timid smile and hopeful eyes shot at them, treating their Steven right as he deserves, giving him a reason to gain more confidence in himself.

How could they, when you were melting inside Steven’s thankful hug, and they could feel your slow breathing under their palms.. and for a minute love felt possibile to pursue.