#and you already know i rushed to look it up

[philosians]

ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

a three week paid-vacation provided by your captain gave rise to the opportunity to finally show you the gift sylus had gotten you. and no, it isn’t the yacht you’re on—but he wouldn’t be opposed to giving you that either.

[ !! ] — mdni | established relationship, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, mating press, unprotected sex, sylus is soft in the bedroom okay now hush ;; alcohol mention (sylus drinks whiskey), fluff. oh did I mention soft! sylus?? uhhh maybe more tags than this idk there’s a lot going on lmao. unedited af I know that’s a warning. if y’all see cut sentences just know it’s a brain glitch >.< lol

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! phew i got this out before it ended hehe just in the nick of time. I do wanna forewarn everyone I don’t actively write smut so I deeply apologize for any sort of repetitiveness or just it being inaccurate and rushed overall, my apologies. but please enjoy reading! bc i wanna curl up and die and delete this after writing it actually lmao I’ll probably never write anything like this again haha

word count: roughly 4.8k

The starry expanse of sky moves quickly outside of the window of the car, nothing but a blur of cosmic colors. Where you’re going you’re not quite sure, with all the secrecy from Sylus and the twins. It’s something Sylus has clearly planned for awhile, from the way he wanted you to dress tonight, but you’re still unable to put your finger on it.

At the very least, you’re glad that Kieran is the one that’s driving instead of Luke.

“Are you two going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Afraid not, Miss,” Kieran replies. “That’d be against orders from Boss.”

“Are we at least almost there yet?” you ask.

“We have about ten more minutes,” Luke chirps. “Then you’ll finally get to see Boss, don’t worry.”

You’re stunned into a mild fluster and look at your hands in your lap. You heard the twins snicker and you can’t help but shake your head incredulously. Oh well. You’re almost to your destination anyway.

After the last two months of an increase in Wanderer appearances, you could most certainly use a break. It’s been nothing short of hectic, battles here and evacuations there and the occasional dumbass that doesn’t want to listen to the warnings given out that an area is too dangerous to go into.

You softly sigh. You really shouldn’t be thinking about work.

You tug the large coat on your shoulders over you further, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth and the smell of the man it belonged to.

Whatever in the world Sylus had planned must be big, even so that he couldn’t be bothered to tell even the twins exactly what he had in store. All the three of you knew was that he had a surprise, and the two brothers were more than happy to have the opportunity to have the base to themselves.

You just wish you knew where you were going.

“Is this it?”

“I think so. Ah, there’s Boss.”

Oh, already?

True to word, you open your eyes and see a familiar patch of silver against the darkness of the world. And you also happen to see a very, very large yacht not far from him.

A marina? You blink incredulously. A private fucking marina. Good lord, how much money does this man really have?

Upon stopping, you watch as Sylus turns his head slightly to the car. Luke quickly jumps from the passenger side and opens the door for you, ushering his hand outward dramatically and says, “After you, Miss.”

The heel of your shoe clicks against pavement as you step out, holding Luke’s hand for stability until you find your balance.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Not a problem! Enjoy the honey— Uh, vacation!”

Luke jumps back into the car, more than likely to save himself from your questioning eyes. You can’t help but shake your head and make your way toward Sylus and the man in uniform, more than likely the captain of the yacht.

“Ah, Mrs. Sylus,” greets the captain with a tilt of his hat. His eyes blink as he does a once-over on you and then laughs. “I was wondering what kind of woman would tie such a man down, and now I understand. Please, come aboard.”

Your brows raise at Sylus as the captain pivots and boards the yacht. “Care to explain that?”

Sylus, in all his audacity, simply shrugs and smiles. “Nothing to explain, sweetie. He came up with that himself after I told him my lady would be joining me.”

You scoff in disbelief, but can’t help the small smile that falls to your lips. You take Sylus’s arm, wrapped your hand in the crook of his elbow as he leads you onto the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, gazing around as he takes you to the deck. And you could only imagine what it would be like when you went out to sea.

“I figured you would like it,” he murmurs. “Glad to see my instincts weren’t wrong.”

You don’t miss the way his red eyes look to you, knowing he’s waiting for your words of affirmation. You laugh behind your hand, because yeah, he’s right.

You hum, taking his hand in your own. “Thank you for considering me.”

You also don’t miss the way his large fingers eagerly twine with your own, nor the way his eyes soften and blend with devotion and affection.

“Always.”

Thirty minutes pass before the ship takes off into the open sea. You barely feel it until Sylus has you stand to take you back outside from the dining area.

“So, where are we going?” you ask, gazing up at him.

Sylus’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

You grumble, humoring the man. “Of course it is.”

Sylus’s coat never leaves your shoulders the couple hours you’re both out on the deck. He seems to enjoy that, too; you wearing his clothes sparks something behind his eyes that you’re all too familiar with. The thought itself has your cheeks warming and thighs pressing together.

He flicks his wrist to check his watch when a timer beeps twice. You can’t help it when your eyes linger on his hand. You’ve always had a fixation on his them—on how big and warm they are in comparison to yours, on how his long fingers stretch across your body, and how they gently wrap around you and pull you close like he’d die without touching you. Those hands that had once forced you to attempt to resonate with him for three days had become soft, remorseful and loving. And he’d more than earned your forgiveness.

“Dinner should be ready.”

You grin. “You brought your chef?”

“Just for this trip,” he retorts, standing to full height. “Come.” His hand outstretches to you and you take it without hesitation.

You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly light up at the way your fingers immediately interlace with his. It’s a small joy to you, but to him it means everything—a testament to how far the two of you have come.

Dinner, as always, is perfect. Dessert even more so. You’re not too full, but more than satisfied. You give your compliments to the chef, who in turn happily skips back to the kitchen like he’s on cloud nine. And you can’t help but look at Sylus and smile as he downs his whiskey like it’s water.

“You don’t compliment your chef enough,” you comment. “One sentence from me and he acts like he’s never heard praise.”

Sylus hums as his brows raise, humored. He chuckles with the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing it to retort, “He knows his cooking is excellent. I suppose I just have a limit to how many compliments I can give out in a day.”

You place your chin in your hand. “Oh, really? Then how many do I get to have in a day?”

Adoration fills his ruby orbs. “As many as you want, my beloved.”

His hand reaches for your left over the table. Sylus’s thumb rubs over your fingers, resting atop your ring finger.

“Have I told you that you look exquisite tonight?” he whispers.

“You haven’t,” you reply cheekily. “I think you owe me a few more, don’t you think?”

The soft music in the background dies as you begin to hear your heart thunder in your ears. You do hope that Sylus can’t hear it pounding away like you can.

“Seems like I do,” he says in an exhale, leaning back in his seat but not letting go of your hand. His eyes have changed—once filled with adoration, now filled with a fire that makes heat rise to your cheeks and desire burn between your legs. “I don’t think I’ve shown you the bedroom yet, have I?”

You grin. “You haven’t. I’d like to see it.”

But what you don’t anticipate is your man standing and abruptly lifting you into a one arm carry. Your sharply inhale in surprise, arms immediately weave around his neck for support, but you know he’d never drop you anyway.

You trail your nose under his jaw, pressing a long kiss to his skin by his ear. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the subtle presser making him hasten his long strides.

“Sweetheart—” Sylus gulps as you press two fingers to his mouth to silence him.

You pepper slow kisses down his neck, nipping at the skin every other kiss. It’s when you reach his collarbone you hear the click of a door. And seconds later you find the plush fabric of blankets underneath you and Sylus’s firm hand cradling the back of your head as he tilts your head back to capture your lips with his.

Between each heated kiss you attempt to catch your breath, only for your lover to devour your mouth with his own again and again.

“Mmmh— Sylus, let me—” another kiss “—catch my breath.”

He has a hard time pulling away. Sylus rests on one knee at the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the back of your bare calves as he catches his own breath and tries to pull himself back to his senses before he finishes himself off early.

While you toss your head back and close your eyes, trying to let oxygen catch up to your brain, Sylus lifts his head to look at you. He drinks in your appearance—the starry night sky sewn into the strapless obsidian dress (one that he had specially made for you) accentuated your body exactly the way he envisioned.

As he watches your breasts rise and fall with every breath, he feels his pants tighten even more. He’s so painfully hard just from simply kissing you—a testament to what you do to him, how deeply you affect him.

He rests his head against the plush of your thigh. As he trails his hand down your leg, he realizes you still have your heels on.

Your head snaps up at the feeling of one heel coming off, then the other.

“Sylus, what— Oh, shit.”

The momentum of him lifting your body further up the bed and hiking your dress up catches you off guard. His mouth latches to your thighs, kissing and biting all the way up until he reaches the fabric of your panties—the only thing between him and what he wants.

“Such a dark red, darling,” he hums. “Was this for me?”

“It might’ve been,” you tease.

As his finger loops around the red fabric covering you, Evol ready to help rip it off, your hand makes its way into his hair and tugs, forcing his eyes to attention.

“Rip these, I’m okay with that. Rip the dress, and I’ll kill you,” you say, half-joking. But damn did you really like this dress.

He chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “Understood.”

As soon as he tears them away and hikes your dress even further around your hips, Sylus’s mouth does nothing short of devour your pussy. You let out the loudest, wanton moan you’ve ever heard from yourself as his tongue buries itself in and against your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you to maintain some semblance of being grounded as Sylus eats you out like a starved man. Your legs are over his shoulders, allowing him the best access to your womanhood.

“Oh— Fuuuck, Sylus. Ohmygod, please don’t stop,” you beg, threading one hand through his hair again, grip tighter than earlier.

His reply comes in the form of him pushing his thick middle finger inside of you and mouth sucking on your clit. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth. His ring finger promptly follows, stretching your cunt and sinking deep inside of your walls. Tears of overstimulation line your eyes as you grasp at then pillow behind your head.

Both hands twine into his silver locks of hair, pressing him deeper into you. What you miss amidst your own haze of ecstasy is Sylus grinding himself against the mattress to find some sense of relief. His mind is at war, wanting nothing more than to cum right then and there versus wanting to watch his seed spill from your hole. It takes every ounce of self-control of his own body to not climax while he simultaneously loses his mind while his mouth is attached to your cunt.

“Don’t— Please— Sylus! Sylus, I’m gonna—”

Your back arches off of the bed, and you can’t help but press him further into you and grind against his face. Sylus’s arms wrap around your thighs, holding you steady. The deep groan of his satisfaction that leaves him only spurs you on further and further and further until your thighs clench around his head and you cum. Hard.

And Sylus more than enjoys sucking and licking away at your release as you climax, prolonging it as much as he can. He lifts your lower body into the air as he continues his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and tongue, the pressure of your thighs on either side of his head making him dizzy. Your essence coats his chin and nose, your scent driving all his senses wild and pulls the remainder of his blood down to his cock.

He gains a free hand as you tighten your legs around his shoulders. He unbuckles his belt and slips it off with practiced ease before moving to unzip and unbutton his pants, tugging away at them.

When your hips stop shaking is when Sylus grabs your thighs with both hands and sets your body back down on the mattress. He hovers over you once again, taking in your disheveled appearance and partially-lidded eyes. His long fingers brush your skin and cradle your jaw.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks.

You pant and gaze up at him. “Barely.” You swallow. “That tongue of yours is brutal.”

Sylus laughs. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the painful fact that his cock is straining against his pants. Until your knee brushes against it when you lift yourself from the bed and he groans.

You giggle as his head presses against your shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t neglect yourself like that,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Sylus’s lips meet your neck opposite of your arm wrapped around him and presses a long kiss to your sweaty skin, murmuring hotly into your ear, “There’s no one to blame but you, beloved. And I highly suggest you take responsibility.”

You moan and arch into him as his hands work on your dress, unzipping the back entirely and lowering it just below your breasts. You arch your back so he can undo the bra, and as soon as it’s on the floor, his mouth is on your chest. Sylus sucks and bites at your nipples, worshipping them and your breasts as he grinds his clothed erection into your bare pussy, soaking his dress pants in your juices.

You begin unbutton his shirt through the haze of your desire… before you slip your hands through the remaining buttons and fully rip his dress shirt apart, exposing his thick torso. You both chuckle at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor.

“Impatient?”

“Like you aren’t,” you remark.

Sylus shrugs off his shirt in a fluid motion and tosses it to the side from one arm. You manage to slide off your dress within a few moments, just as Sylus manages to get off his pants and briefs and… Oh…

You’d almost forgotten how big he is. Sure, the two of you have spent a couple more… sensual evenings together since you had him use your place as a safe house (and then him bringing you to his), but it always makes you shudder when your eyes land between the apex of his muscular thighs.

His tip weeps with precum, heavy cock red and flushed and—

Sylus’s breath is hot against your ear as he asks, “Like what you see, darling?”

—goddamn it you need it inside of you.

Your nails dig into his bicep, your other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, and Sylus is more than happy to oblige. His kiss is deep and reverent. A small moan escapes him as you two briefly pull apart for air before diving back into one another.

Everything is hot; your cheeks are flushed with the heat of desire and your pussy aches to have Sylus buried inside of you.

You pull him down on top of you with the arm around his neck, your other hand grasping his cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sylus hisses, hips bucking slightly as his fingers clench at his attempts at restraint.

“Fuck,” he pants. His red eyes clear for a moment, turning into a gentleness reserved for you as he asks, “You think you can take it?”

“I think you ate me out enough earlier I’ll manage,” you joke. Then your nails dig into the meat of his back, the sensation making him softly hiss again. “But if you don’t I’ll be doing it for you then.”

Sylus chuckles, nose dipping to your collarbone.

“My beloved is always so greedy, isn’t she?”

There is no retort from you—only a loud moan as Sylus’s tip enters you fills the room. He stops after that though, and as you look up to him to ask him why he stopped, you’re stunned at the sight before you.

Sylus is flushed red, panting and sweating as his muscles flex.

“Sylus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, shaking his head. “Give me… a moment. You feel… too good.”

The implication is clear. Sylus’s head falls as he inches himself a little further, delighting in hearing you gasp as he sinks more and more inches of himself inside of you. It takes all he has not to just cum at the feel of you; every ounce of self-control he has is being tested. He’s never been harder in his life, and being inside of the woman he loves—who feels like heaven wrapped around his cock—only proceeds to spiral him into a deeper pit of pleasure.

“Sylus… Sylus, more, please,” you hears you beg.

He’s halfway in, trying to take his time and let the romance of the evening last. But at that, and the sensation of your nails digging into his back, he finds himself a goner and lets his hips fall into yours, sinking the remainder of his fat cock into the depths of your wet pussy. A deep shudder passes through him, bliss running through his body.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel divine,” Sylus says in a deep exhale.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, eyes clouded with the haze of lust. “Oh, Sy, you feel so good.”

The praise goes to his head immediately. He drags his cock back out slowly and a whine escapes you, hating the emptiness. But when Sylus places your legs over his shoulders and leans over you, it’s over for you both.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sylus rolls his hips, sliding his full length back into the warm expanse of your pussy. His head falls back, and the pace he sets proceeds to bury you both alive underneath overwhelming ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants, clenching his fist into the sheet. “How I feel every time I look at you? Utter perfection is all I see. Do you feel what you do to me, darling?”

All you can feel is Sylus’s weight on top of you and the feel of his heavy cock inside of you as he stretches you open on him, carving your pussy into the shape of his cock. His pelvis rubs against your clit deliciously, spurring you on further. As much as you want to drive your hips up to meet his thrusts, Sylus has you pinned down into a mating press and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

The papping noises of your bodies meeting filled the room, sending your thoughts into an even dirtier place. He feels so good reaching so deep inside of you, tip rubbing against that special spot perfectly, like you’re made to be perfect for each other. You clench around Sylus at another thought and he inhales sharply.

“What’re you thinking about?” he questions.

You shake your head. “N-Nothing.”

His long fingers grab your jaw gently. “Tell me.”

And then he slows his pace. “No, Sylus—”

“Then tell me what my beloved is thinking in that pretty head of hers,” he murmurs into your ear. “Or else.”

“I was thinking… about… Uhm…” Sylus rolls his hips back into you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass as he awaits your answer.

“Well?”

“I, uh— A baby.”

At the word, you shy away into your arm. But Sylus doesn’t say anything, which makes you confused. After a couple seconds, you gaze back up at him. His eyes show how stunned he is, pupils blown as no doubt the word also revolves around his own mind.

“Sylus, I— Oh, fuucckk.”

His body weight presses your body into the mattress further, leaving you at his mercy as Sylus’s pace becomes brutal, like he’s let his base instincts take over. His big hand finds yours and twines your fingers together as he drives his cock into your pussy over and over and over again, the squelching noises only growing louder and louder in your ears.

“My kitten… wants a baby then?” He hums into your ear. “She wants me to cum inside of her and carry my baby, is that right?”

“It was… just a thought.”

He laughs as your pussy clenches around him more at his words.

“Seems like it’s more than just a thought.”

Sylus’s mouth meets yours in another kiss, powered by something more than just lust. Your brain turns fuzzy and hot, reality beginning to finally blur as another climax ascends from the depths of your core.

Your eyes shut as his mouth finds the sweet spot on your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin with his teeth and you’ve no doubt that there’ll be plenty of love bites scattered across your skin for days after tonight.

When he nips at your ear, you squeak and clench around him again. Sylus groans into your ear, “Do that again.”

You oblige, clenching down on him and making him piston himself in and out of you faster. Every thrust turns into one that pushes the air from your lungs. All you can see, all you can feel is Sylus—feel his body heat as he presses your body down with his; feel the thickness of his cock stretch you open and the weight of his balls as they slap against your ass.

And it feels so good. The shlick and pap noises are getting to you. The coil that’s been winding up all night finally feels like it’s about to burst. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressing into Sylus’s firm chest.

“Ohmygod, Sy, gonna cum, gonna cum fuckfuckfuuucckkk!”

He nips at your earlobe, biting down on it gently before whispering into your ear, “Indulge, my love. Indulge and I’ll fulfill every single one of your desires tonight.”

At long last, the coil snaps. Euphoria pilots itself to your brain and all across your body. You shake from the intensity, having to wrap your arms around Sylus to ground yourself as you reach your high.

Your orgasm sends him over the edge. He thrusts a few more times before he finds himself pressing himself as deep as he can possibly go and releasing his seed inside of your pussy. It’s almost too much, even for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum harder than tonight.

Your bodies rock together as you both fall from the heights of cloud nine. Sylus peppers your sweaty skin with kisses, across the bruised love bites he’d left earlier.

It’s only when he feels himself soft enough to slip out of you does he ask, “A family?”

Sylus’s voice is soft. So soft in fact that you barely hear him. You take a moment to reply, only to find yourself being easily lifted from the bed and onto Sylus’s chest.

“It’s… Something that’s crossed my mind a few times,” you admit bashfully.

Silence fills the air for a moment before he asks again, in the same, quiet tone he’d just used.

“With me?”

Your smile stretches across your face instantly. Your lips meet his chest, right over his heart. Your eyes meet his—uncertainty meeting unconditional love.

“And no one else.”

The next three days after are filled with you and Sylus partaking in all the activities that his yacht has to offer (plus more intimate times across the boat and it’s other rooms). He’d told you at one point that he would’ve just used the one he sails on regularly. But due to him wanting to spend more time with you than anything, and for you to have fun during the trip, he’d bought another and hired the captain to ensure safe passage.

Tonight however, was the night that you both were supposed to be arriving at your destination. You tried to help the anxiety and giddiness inside of you, trying to flatten it under a cool demeanor but Sylus just saw right through you.

Of course he would.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s not like I’m taking you into enemy territory,” he jokes, gaze flicking to you from the stars in the open sky.

“I know that. I just can’t help it,” you mutter.

You shiver from the cold breeze, and Sylus shrugs off his leather jacket and places it over your shoulders. He leans down and zips it partway, resting his chin atop your head.

“Those hunter instincts of yours need to settle down,” he hums.

“I wish they would— Sylus!”

A hearty chuckle leaves him as you bounce away from his hold. Your eyes narrow at his treachery.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you try and tickle me,” you warn playfully. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket, trying to pull the sleeves back from over your palms to point at him. “Or I’m gonna tickle you back.”

Sylus smirks and rubs his fingers together. “Is that a challenge?”

“Mr. Sylus, Mrs. Sylus,” greets a familiar voice.

Embarrassment makes you duck your head away from the captain for a brief moment before you look at him.

“Just thought I’d come and let you know we’ll be docking soon.” The captain takes his hat off and bows before you both. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to sail you both for the last three days.”

Sylus nods his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for giving us safe passage, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, reapplies his cap and heads back to steer the ship into the upcoming port.

You don’t get to watch as he disappears since Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulling your chin to his chest. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I do believe we’re here.”

The distraction of the captain was long enough that the scenery before you had changed into the moonlit sea into a large landmass illuminated by the full moon above.

Your jaw drops open at the sight, eyes lighting up as you get closer and closer to the port where the ship would dock.

“Sylus, where are we?” you ask quietly.

“It’s an island,” he states. “One that I bought awhile back and was making… renovations for.”

“Renovations? For what?”

He laughs softly and looks at you like you’re a goddess. “For whom, you mean.”

Your eyes widen into saucers. Is he…? Could he seriously mean…?

“Sylus, you bought me an island?” you inquire, utterly flabbergasted.

“I can’t exactly un-buy it, so I do hope you’ll like it,” he replies. To your ears and yours alone you can hear his wavering tone, like he’s awaiting your disappointment. You can’t have that.

You cup his cheeks and force him to look at you again.

“Sylus, I love it; even if it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever been gifted, I love it. It’s just going to take me time to get used to it,” you tell him. Then you step on your tippy-toes and give him an eskimo kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

You kiss him there at the front of the ship, wrapped in his warm, protective embrace, momentarily oblivious to the world and your surroundings.

What you’re also oblivious to, and have been since the start of the trip, is the fat diamond ring that’s been tucked away, hidden in Sylus’s bottom drawer to his dresser. And also to the fact of his other reason of being nervous.

To him hoping that you’ll say “yes” when he gets down on one knee to ask you to marry him.

But he’ll save that for later. Right now he intends to indulge and savor your lips on his and you being tucked into him, safe from the world to be loved and worshipped by him.

And hopefully, for the rest of this lifetime.

[kingkaizen]

𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓱𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼 | 𝓫𝓵𝓵𝓴 𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

∘ desc: the blue lock men and how they express their love for you <3

∘ ft: kaiser, barou, shidou, itoshi sae, + oliver

∘ a/n: happy valentine's day <3

∘ includes: nsfw, praise, finger sucking, hair pulling, wall sex, mirror sex, biting

Kaiser: words of affirmation

➳❥ kaiser loves the sound of his own voice, and he loves hearing you say his name even more

➳❥ he takes every moan and whimper as a personal victory

➳❥ expect both sweet praise and degradation in the same breath

Kaiser has you laid out beneath him, your wrists pinned above your head with one hand while the other drags down your body. His mouth brushes against your ear as he pushes into you slowly, making sure you feel every inch.

"You love this, don’t you? Being mine. Fuck, you take me so well—such a good girl for me."

You moan, and he smirks, pulling back just enough to make you chase his lips. "Tch, so needy. Go on, tell me how much you love it—say it, baby, or I stop right here."

His fingers tilt your chin up, making sure you meet his gaze, his deep blue eyes holding a dangerous glint as his lips curl into a smirk.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb across your lips before slipping it into your mouth. “So fucking perfect for me. My beautiful little thing.”

You moan around his thumb, and he chuckles, his other hand trailing down your stomach, teasing where you need him most.

“Tell me how good I make you feel, pretty. Beg me to ruin you.”

Barou: acts of service

➳❥ barou isn’t one to spoil you easily – you have to earn it

➳❥ he gets off on discipline and making you work for your pleasure

➳❥ when you do earn it? he doesn’t hold back when giving you what you want

Barou has you on your hands and knees, one of his big hands gripping your waist, the other fisting your hair to keep you exactly where he wants you.

"You wanted this, didn’t you? Begging for it all night—now look at you, struggling to keep up."

Your body trembles, pushed to its limits, but he’s not done yet. He leans down, voice dark with amusement, his breath hot against your ear.

"If you wanna come, beg for it. Tell me why you deserve it."

You’re completely spent, legs shaking, body flushed, but Barou isn’t satisfied yet. He flips you over, kneeling between your thighs. Grabbing your ankle, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your calf, his tone low, dangerous.

"Tired already?" His sharp eyes lock onto yours, challenging. "I’m not stopping until I know you’re completely satisfied."

Before you can protest, he drags you back to him, spreading you open with ease. His mouth is on you again—sucking, licking, claiming—and when you try to squirm away, his grip tightens.

"Stay still," he growls, pinning you down. "You’re not done until I say so."

Shidou: physical touch

➳❥ shidou is a menace in bed, just completely obsessed with making you feel him everywhere for days

➳❥ his hands have to constantly be on you, gripping and manhandling you

➳❥ his favorite thing is fucking you against a mirror, watching the way you fall apart

Shidou has you pinned against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he ruts into you like a beast. His mouth is hot against your skin, leaving bruises and bite marks in his wake.

"Fuck yeah, that’s it—scream for me, baby. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good."

You whimper as he presses you harder against the mirror, making sure you can see the mess he’s making of you.

"Shit, you look so pretty like this—should keep you like this forever, huh?" He grins, biting your shoulder before slamming into you harder.

Shidou thrives on touch—his hands constantly grabbing, pinching, kneading, making sure you’re always feeling him. He loves your reactions, the way your body responds to him. His fingers dig into your thighs, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

“Gonna let me have you? Or do I have to make you beg first?”

Sae: quality time

➳❥ sae isn’t in a rush, he enjoys taking his time with you, pulling pleasure out of you in an annoyingly slow pace

➳❥ control is everything to him, commanding you to hold still and refusing to let you rush him

➳❥ he loves making you wait, begging him to go faster

Sae has you spread out on the bed, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over your thighs as you squirm beneath him.

"Tch. So impatient." He pushes into you slowly, making you whimper at the stretch, his deep teal eyes locked onto yours.

"I want you to feel everything," he murmurs, rolling his hips in a way that has your breath catching.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, and he leans down, lips brushing against your jaw. "Relax, love. We’re just getting started."

His fingers tilt your face up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark, piercing, his grip firm but not rough.

“Focus on me,” he says, his voice smooth, demanding. “I don’t want your mind anywhere else.”

He takes his time—dragging his fingers over every inch of your skin, watching the way you react, the way your breath hitches when he finally touches you where you need him most.

“There we go,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s the reaction I wanted.”

Oliver: receiving gifts

➳❥ oliver loves spoiling you, but expects you to work for it

➳❥ he buys you lingerie, jewlery, silk sheets–just to ruin you against them

➳❥ loves worshipping you while you’re covered in all of the things he bought for you

Oliver sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a lazy smirk. He pats his thigh, motioning for you to sit on his lap.

"Come here, baby. Show me how much you want that new necklace."

The second you straddle him, his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses up your neck.

"Mm, that’s my girl. Keep moving—maybe I’ll let you have it."

Oliver smirks as he drapes the cool metal of a diamond necklace around your throat, his fingers brushing against your skin as he fastens the clasp. His lips ghost over your shoulder, trailing down until his teeth nip at your pulse.

“Something pretty for my pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. “But let’s be real, baby—the best gift I could give you is me.”

Before you can even process his words, he’s already spinning you around, pinning you against the nearest surface. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips with purpose, pressing himself against you so you feel just how hard he is.

“Mmm, already shivering?” His chuckle is dark, teasing, as his fingers slip under the hem of your clothes, dragging them down inch by inch. “I haven’t even started yet.”

You whimper as he spreads your thighs, one hand keeping you exactly where he wants you while the other trails between your legs, fingers teasing, barely grazing where you need him most.

"C’mon, baby, tell me—" he whispers, lips brushing against your ear. "What’s the real gift here? This little necklace… or me fucking you until you can’t even think straight?"

Before you can answer, two fingers slide into you without warning, curling just right, making your back arch as a broken moan spills from your lips.

Oliver grins, pleased, proud, as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“That’s what I thought,” he purrs. “Now, let’s see how many times I can make you say my name tonight.”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[y3sterdaysproblem]

★ matt loves talking you through it ★

“there’s my good girl.”

matt’s sweet voice filled the air in his bedroom as he stared down at you from where he was propped on his elbow next to you, eyes locked on your face while his fingers moved inside you.

you were fully naked on his bed, legs spread wide for him to have easy access to your drooling pussy. he loved the way you surrendered your body to him, letting him have full access to you whenever he wanted, knowing he’d do everything he could just to see your pretty face twisted up in pleasure.

matt’s two middle fingers slid in and out of you languidly as to drag out the feeling as opposed to rushing it and getting you off as quickly as possible. matt liked to take his time, liked to listen to you for as long as you’d let him until you got too antsy and were begging him to make you cum.

“does it feel good?” he asked you in almost a coo, smiling when your head nodded quickly. your eyes were clenched shut and your hands gripped at the sheets beneath you, the only sound leaving your lips being a trail of whimpers with every exhale. “use your words, baby. you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“don’t stop,” you rasp out instantly, reaching one of your hands up to grab onto his shirt. you turn your head to face him and open your eyes as much as you can, locking onto his bright blue ones that were already on you. “please don’t stop, feels so good.”

“hmm, I dunno, i’m not convinced,” matt hums, slowing the movement of his fingers. “no!” you cry, grinding your hips down onto the digits buried deep inside you. “please, daddy, need to cum.”

“that’s better,” matt grins at your desperation, feeling his stomach coil at the way your pretty voice begged him to continue. the sound of you pleading for him to do absolutely anything was something he could listen to forever.

he picked up the pace of his fingers again, drinking in the way your moans picked back up. “you’re doing so well, baby, sound so pretty.” matt lets his gaze wander to where your bodies connect, listening to the sound of your pussy squelching every time his fingers drew in and out of you.

“fuuuck,” he groans hungrily. “she’s so wet for me, baby. you love my fingers inside of you this much?”

your eyelids have fluttered shut again, unable to stay open as your tummy started to tighten and your toes began to curl. “come on, angel, you know better. answer me.” matt’s voice makes you groan, the deep tone he adopts sending a shiver down your spine.

“y-yes, I love your fingers!” you cry out, back arching as his thumb moved to rub on your clit, sliding around the nub in circles easily from how soaked you were. “love a-anything you give me, daddy, thank you.”

“good girl,” matt croons. “you wanna cum for me, baby? you’re so close, pretty girl, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers so tight. all y’gotta do is ask and i’ll get you there.”

you let out a loud string of whines as you nodded your head again, knowing he wanted to hear you speak but staying quiet since you loved the way he demanded it from you.

matt fully removed his fingers from you and brought his hand up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. your eyes cracked open once more to see him staring down at you expectantly, knowing you knew better.

his fingers spread your wetness on your jaw and chin as he gripped onto you tightly, fingers so close you could smell the scent of pure arousal filling your senses. “please make me cum,” you whimpered out, parting your lips slightly as his thumb dragged over them. “please, daddy, i’ve been so good.”

matt grins at your request and slips his thumb into your mouth for a moment before moving his hand back between your legs, dragging the pads of his fingers over your clit gently. “always gotta give my girl what she wants, hm?”

after he speaks, he slips his fingers back inside you and fucks them in and out at a pace faster than before, ripping loud moans out of your parted, pouty lips, your back arching off of the bed.

“go ahead, baby, I got you. wanna feel you cum around my fingers. that’s my pretty girl, let go for me, yeah? there you go.” matt’s voice spoke softly in your ear as his words tipped you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you intensely, legs slamming shut around matt’s wrist.

“fuck!” you shriek, body trembling from the climax that wracked through you, his fingers inside you still coaxing out the remnants.

matt’s face ducked down to press gentle kisses into your jaw as you tried to catch your breath, chest rising and falling quickly. “good job,” he praises quietly, sliding his fingers out of you so he could drag his hand up your stomach, once again spreading your fluids on your skin. “love making you cum like that, watching you fall apart from my fingers. so fucking pretty.”

you let out a small sigh mixed with a whine at his words, turning your face to meet his lips with your own. he kisses you back sweetly, pulling away after a few seconds to let you keep catching your breath.

“thanks, daddy,” you say in a teasing voice and matt can’t help but laugh, though he shakes his head and pushes himself down the bed slowly. “gonna eat you out til you’re crying now, okay?”

you were never one to refuse.

dedicated to @strnilolover

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍/𝑨.𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊

A little fluff to combat the angst I’ve been posting. And for the couple of anons who’ve asked if I’m still gonna write for Mapi, I don’t know yet. I’m gonna give it a while before I reevaluate and make a decision. Enjoy <3

Aitana had always been full of energy. You’d learned that early on in your relationship, watching her buzz around the house, around the pitch, around anywhere she set foot. She was fast, light on her feet, and somehow always managed to make even the smallest of movements look graceful.

Except for today.

Today, her excitement got the better of her.

You were hiking together, something you did whenever your schedules allowed it. Aitana liked to push herself, taking on the steepest inclines like they were nothing, grinning at you over her shoulder as she reached the top before you. You’d follow at your own pace, shaking your head at her endless energy. But today, as she turned back to look at you with that mischievous glint in her eyes, she lost her footing.

One second, she was standing tall. The next, she was tumbling down onto the rocky path, a sharp yelp escaping her lips.

Your heart lurched. “Baby!”

She hit the ground hard, her leg dragging against an exposed rock, and you winced at the sound of her skin scraping against it.

You rushed to her side, dropping to your knees. “Aitana, are you okay?”

She was staring down at her leg, her hands hovering over the wound but not quite touching. Her eyes were wide, shiny, and her lower lip trembled slightly. You followed her gaze, and your stomach twisted at the sight. The whole side of her calf was scraped raw, the first layer of skin completely gone, already spotting with blood.

“Shit,” you muttered.

Aitana swallowed hard. “Cariño…” Her voice was small, laced with pain.

“I know, baby, I know.” You reached out, gently cupping her calf with careful hands. “Let me see.”

She flinched as your fingers ghosted over the wound, and you immediately looked up at her. “I’m sorry. I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise.”

She nodded, sucking in a breath through her teeth as you grabbed your water bottle from your backpack, pouring a little over the wound to clean it. She jerked at the sensation, her fingers digging into the dirt.

“I know, I know,” you murmured, pulling a tissue from your pocket and dabbing at the blood. “You’re okay, baby. Just breathe for me.”

She did as you asked, though it was shaky.

You frowned. “I can’t believe I left the first aid kit in the car.”

She sniffed. “Eres veterinaria…”

You huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know. And yet I still make stupid mistakes.”

She let out a weak chuckle, but it quickly turned into another wince as you pressed the tissue a little too firmly against her leg. You grimaced. “Sorry.”

Aitana blinked rapidly, clearly trying to keep herself from crying.

Your heart clenched. You leaned forward, cupping her cheeks between your hands. “Hey, look at me.”

She did, and you pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re okay. It looks worse than it is. I’ll get you back to the car and clean it properly, alright?”

She nodded, sniffling.

You stood, moving around her before sliding your hands beneath her armpits, hauling her to her feet. She immediately favoured her uninjured leg, wincing as she tried to put any weight on the other.

You sighed. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

You stepped in front of her, bending slightly. “Come here, baby.”

She knew what you were asking before you even finished speaking, her arms lifting to wrap around your neck. You straightened, your hands gripping her waist as you lifted her effortlessly off the ground. Her legs wrapped securely around your waist, and you adjusted her, bouncing her slightly to get a better grip before placing an arm beneath her for support whilst the other settled across her back.

She sighed, burying her face in your neck. “Me gustas así.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I like holding you like this too, baby.”

The walk back to the car was long. She may have been small, and you may have been strong, but carrying any amount of weight for twenty minutes wasn’t exactly easy. You stopped a couple of times, bouncing her higher up when you felt her slipping.

Each time, she mumbled, “Lo siento.”

Each time, you responded, “Don’t apologise, baby.”

By the time you finally reached the car, your arms ached, but you didn’t complain. Instead, you patted her behind softly to let her know you’d arrived. She loosened her hold, allowing you to set her gently onto the passenger seat, her legs hanging out.

She watched as you grabbed the first aid kit from the glove compartment, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.

You crouched in front of her, opening the kit. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you fixed up.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. You carefully cleaned the wound, this time with antiseptic wipes instead of water and tissue. She flinched at the sting, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat.

“I know, baby,” you murmured. “Almost done.”

She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes.

You worked quickly, applying an antibacterial cream before covering the wound with some gauze and a large bandage. “There. Good as new.”

She peeked one eye open. “No new.”

You laughed. “Okay, not new. But better.”

She hummed, still watching you as you packed up the kit. When you looked up, her expression had softened.

“Eres muy buena,” she said quietly.

You tilted your head. “At what?”

She reached out, tracing a finger over the tattoos on your forearm. “En todo.”

Your heart swelled, and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, baby.”

She smiled, her fingers sliding up to cup your jaw. “Yo te amo.” She whispered, tugging you closer until your foreheads touch. “Gracias, mi amor.”

You brush your nose against hers. “Always, baby. Always.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[steddieas-shegoes]

spiderman kiss

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated t | 896 words | no cw | tags: fake dating au, fake wedding date, strangers to lovers, fast burn of the century, getting together, first kiss, modern au

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

“I cannot believe you fell for this guy,” Robin hisses through her teeth as she gestures to Eddie, who is doing his best impression of a bat by hanging upside down from a tree branch. “You were supposed to bring him to the wedding, not want to marry him.”

“Woah. I said I liked him, not that I wanted to marry him,” Steve whispers.

“For you, that’s basically the same thing.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but she’s right. He may not fall for people often, but when he does, it’s all or nothing. Head over heels. Madly, deeply in love.

Eddie was supposed to be his date for this wedding to appease all the kids, to get them to just shut up already about how single he is and how miserable he is when he comes to events alone. He’s Dustin’s friend, apparently someone just as miserably single as Steve.

He’s weird. Steve likes weird.

He’s loud. Steve likes…his loud.

He’s exciting. Steve needs excitement.

He’s also hot. In a metalhead who didn’t get the memo that the 80s are over, wore jeans and a button-up to a formal event, played air guitar in his seat during the bridal march kind of way.

“He’s fun,” Steve settles on, shrugging. “Aren’t you the one who said I need more fun in my life?”

“I meant, like, a new hobby!”

“He could be my new hobby.”

“Ew,” Robin groans. “Okay. Alright, fine. You wanna be involved with him, be my guest. Dustin says he’s never once seen him in a committed relationship.”

Steve knows. They spent most of yesterday together talking, getting to know each other, making sure they could pass as boyfriends and not people who just met. Steve didn’t care about being single at a wedding, but apparently all of his friends had told Dustin’s mom they were dating behind their backs and now-

“Stevie!” Eddie yells when he notices him talking to Robin at the table. “We could Spiderman kiss!”

Steve glances at Robin, who rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Oh my god, just go.”

He stands and walks over to Eddie, who is hanging much lower than he should be for a proper Spiderman kiss. He’s grinning, and his hair has started to fall from its messy bun. Steve cannot believe he’s doing this.

He stands with his hands on his hips, smirking at Eddie trying to hold himself up higher, but not having the strength to do it.

“It would be a lot easier to kiss you if you got down,” Steve says.

Everyone goes silent.

Because everyone who is standing by Eddie– Max, Dustin, Will, and Mike– are all very aware that this was nothing more than a fake date for the wedding. Steve doesn’t need to kiss Eddie when no one is watching; He doesn’t need to kiss even when someone is watching.

Eddie stops trying to lift himself, eyes widening as Steve takes another step closer.

“You’d have to be on that branch to pull it off,” Steve says as he points at the branch about two feet above the one he’s currently on. “Unless I get on my knees.”

Everyone pretends they don’t hear the strangled noise that escapes Eddie.

“You’d get dirty, though. Those are nice pants,” Eddie says, still upside down, face bright red from embarrassment and blood rushing to his head.

“They are,” Steve agrees, laughing as he squats so he’s barely higher than Eddie’s face. “But I have to dry clean them anyway. Might as well get what I’m paying for.”

Steve places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck and leans in, brushing their lips together softly. It’s awkward because Eddie’s upside down and Steve has no idea how they made it looks so hot in the movie, but-

“This is a turn of events I did not see coming!” Dustin’s new wife, Suzie, claps. “You were so right, Dusty Buns. They’re perfect for each other.”

Steve does what he does best and ignores them, focusing on Eddie, who looks unstable now.

“Do you need help getting down?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, and Steve moves as quickly as he can to help get him upright so he can climb down. He’s surprised Dustin agreed to an outdoor wedding in the spring with his allergies, but Suzie insisted on having fresh flowers everywhere and would not accept store bought. He’s even more surprised that Eddie, who admitted to having seasonal allergies while they talked at dinner last night, is hanging in trees.

When Eddie’s back on the ground, Steve kisses him for real. A hard press to his lips, tongue brushing against him, teasing.

“Did you climb a tree for attention?” Steve asks him when he pulls away.

“It worked. I can’t be blamed for doing something drastic for you to kiss me.”

“You could’ve just kissed me,” Steve laughs.

Eddie does.

“Still fake? Or can we admit that there’s way more chemistry here than we expected there to be and kiss some more?” He asks.

“I regret doing this. I regret it so much,” Dustin groans as he walks away.

Steve rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t. He’s gonna go do his happy dance where we can’t see him.”

“He has a happy dance?” Eddie asks, smile growing as he leans into Steve’s side.

“Yeah, it’s embarrassing. Let’s go watch.”

[moonlight-joy]

Always You

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Aaron Hotchner’s world shifts when he gets the call—you’re in labor. Dropping everything, he rushes to the hospital, never leaving your side as you bring your son into the world. Holding him for the first time, Aaron is overwhelmed with love and promises to protect him always. Later, the BAU team arrives, showering the newest Hotchner with affection. As Aaron looks at his family—at you—he realizes that, through everything, it was always you.

Pairing: Reader/Aaron Hotchner

Aaron Hotchner was never one to leave a case unfinished. He was a man of duty, responsibility, and unwavering focus. But when his phone buzzed in the middle of an intense briefing, his entire world shifted.

"Aaron, it's happening. The baby's coming."

The message from you sent a jolt through his body. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs as he stood up abruptly, causing the rest of the BAU team to glance up in concern.

“Hotch?” Rossi frowned.

Aaron was already grabbing his coat. “Y/N’s in labor. I have to go.”

There was no hesitation. No deliberation. The case, as important as it was, suddenly paled in comparison to the thought of you in a hospital room, needing him.

“You need anything?” Morgan asked, standing as if ready to help.

Hotch shook his head, already moving toward the door. “Just cover for me. I’ll update you when I can.”

And with that, he was gone.

By the time Aaron arrived, you were already in a hospital gown, gripping the side of the bed as a contraction rippled through you. A nurse was adjusting the IV, offering soothing words, but the second your eyes landed on Aaron rushing through the doorway, you exhaled a breath of relief.

“You made it,” you gasped, voice slightly strained from the pain.

Aaron was at your side in an instant, his warm hand wrapping around yours, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Of course, I made it,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. “Nothing would keep me from this.”

Your grip tightened on his hand as another contraction hit. Aaron didn’t flinch. Instead, he smoothed his free hand over your hair, whispering quiet reassurances, grounding you.

“You’re doing amazing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”

You tried to focus on his voice, on the steadiness he exuded even in moments like this. It helped.

Hours passed. The pain intensified, but so did Aaron’s presence, unwavering and strong. He never left your side, not even for a second.

At one point, after a particularly grueling contraction, you looked up at him, your eyes glassy with exhaustion. “I don’t know if I can do this, Aaron,” you admitted in a shaky whisper.

His forehead pressed against yours, his grip on your hand tightening. “You can,” he assured you. “You already are. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The warmth of his words wrapped around you, giving you the strength to push forward.

The delivery room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the encouragement of the nurses, and Aaron’s unwavering presence.

“One more push, Y/N,” the doctor urged.

Tears pricked your eyes, exhaustion seeping into your bones, but then you felt Aaron’s forehead press against yours again. His voice was steady, firm, and full of love.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

And with one final push, a sharp cry filled the air.

Relief crashed over you as the doctor lifted your newborn, and you let out a soft, exhausted sob.

Aaron’s grip on your hand trembled as he looked at your baby—your baby—with a rare, unguarded expression of pure awe.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced, placing your son against your chest.

Aaron exhaled shakily, his hand ghosting over the tiny bundle in your arms. His dark eyes, so often hardened by the weight of the world, softened completely as he took in the tiny features.

“He’s perfect,” Aaron whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled tiredly, reaching for his hand. “We did it.”

Aaron leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then another on your son’s tiny head. “You did it,” he murmured. “And you were incredible.”

As the nurses worked around you, Aaron didn’t move an inch. He stayed by your side, one arm protectively around you, the other gently resting on your son’s back as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

For the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t thinking about a case, a criminal, or a mountain of paperwork.

He was simply here.

With you.

With your son.

With his family.

And there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

A Few Hours Later

The hospital room was quiet, dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos of the last several hours. You were resting now, nestled against the pillows, while Aaron sat beside you, cradling your newborn son in his arms for the very first time.

He was so small. So impossibly small.

Aaron had handled thousands of case files, taken down some of the worst criminals imaginable, held a gun with unshakable confidence. But here, holding his son, he felt… delicate.

A tiny yawn escaped the baby’s lips, and Aaron let out a breathy chuckle, completely enchanted. His large hand gently cupped the baby's head, his fingers tracing over soft tufts of hair.

“Hi, buddy,” Aaron murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

The baby stirred slightly, tiny fingers curling into a loose fist.

Aaron swallowed, emotion welling up in his throat. “You don’t know it yet, but you have the most incredible mom in the world,” he continued, his eyes flickering toward you as you slept peacefully. “She’s strong. Brave. And she’s going to love you more than anything.”

His gaze returned to his son. “And I… I’m going to protect you with everything I have.”

The promise settled in his heart, unwavering and absolute.

A soft knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Aaron turned to see Rossi peeking in, followed closely by Morgan, JJ, and Garcia.

“We come bearing gifts,” Garcia whispered excitedly, holding up a stuffed bear.

Morgan grinned. “So, where’s the little Hotchner?”

Aaron hesitated, then with careful hands, he passed his son to Rossi, who took him with practiced ease.

“Damn, kid,” Morgan chuckled. “He’s got your serious face already.”

Rossi smirked. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit the Hotch glare.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

JJ stepped forward, brushing a gentle hand over the baby’s tiny cheek. “He’s beautiful, Hotch.”

Garcia sniffled, dabbing at her eyes. “Ugh. Why is he already making me emotional?!”

You stirred then, your eyes fluttering open, and Aaron was instantly by your side, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Hey,” he murmured. “The team’s here.”

A tired but content smile spread across your lips. “Figures they wouldn’t wait long.”

Morgan chuckled. “No way we were missing this.”

The room filled with quiet laughter, soft words, and the warmth of family.

As Aaron looked around at the people who had been through everything with him, then back down at you and his son, he realized something.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t just leading a team.

He wasn’t just chasing criminals.

He was here. With a family. A future. His future.

And in the end, it was always you.

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby fucking her anxious girlfriend to sleep before she leaves for a mission because she knows she'll worry too much otherwise?

♡♥︎Just Stay♥︎♡

Warnings: Fingering, oral sex, reader cums three times, lowkey live for loving softdom!Abby tbh.

You know she has to go.

You’ve known all day.

Still, when Abby tightens the straps of her gear, preparing for the night ahead, something inside you fractures. You’ve been watching her all evening, the slow ritual of her preparation feeding the anxious knot in your stomach.

She stands near the foot of the bed, back to you as she adjusts the buckles on her vest. The dim lantern light casts deep shadows over her frame, emphasizing the strong lines of her shoulders, the swell of muscle in her arms.

“You could just stay,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath

Abby pauses. Not long—just enough for you to catch the way her fingers still against the strap at her chest. Then she sighs, shaking her head as she turns to face you.

“You know I can’t, babe.”

Her voice is steady, but there’s a softness in it, a quiet apology wrapped between the words.

Your fingers twist in the sheets. You swallow against the tightness in your throat. “I don’t—” Your breath catches. “I don’t wanna go to sleep alone.”

Abby studies you for a moment, those sharp blue eyes tracing the worry carved into your face. Then she sets her gear aside, her movements slow, deliberate.

“Come here.”

You don’t hesitate. You move into her arms like it’s the only place you belong, pressing yourself against the solid warmth of her body. Her hands slide up your back, holding you firm, grounding you. She smells like gun oil and salt, the faintest trace of cedar clinging to her skin.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she murmurs, lips brushing against your hair. “You always are.”

You shake your head. “Not without you.”

A heavy silence settles between you. You know this isn’t fair—you’re asking her to choose between duty and you, and you already know the answer. But you just want a little more time. A little more of her before she disappears into the dark.

Abby shifts, her hands moving to cup your face. Her thumbs stroke gently over your cheekbones, grounding, soothing. She holds you like you’re fragile, even when you both know you’re not.

“Lay back for me,” she says, voice soft but firm.

Your breath hitches. You know that tone.

Still, you obey, leaning back against the pillows as Abby follows, bracing herself over you. She takes her time kissing you, letting it linger—deep, slow, and consuming. Her lips are warm, firm, parting just enough to let you taste the faint bitterness of her coffee from earlier.

She’s not rushing, and neither are you.

Her hands slide down, mapping the curves of your body with knowing precision. She peels your shirt off, pressing kisses down the newly exposed skin, trailing warmth down the length of your stomach.

“You need something to keep you in bed?” she murmurs against your skin.

You nod, already dizzy from the heat of her.

Abby hums, amused, before her fingers slip between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric of your underwear.

“Already wet for me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with something darker. “God, baby, you make this too easy.”

She hooks her fingers into your waistband, dragging your underwear down slow, teasing. The way she looks at you, like she’s savoring every second, makes your breath catch.

And then her fingers press against your clit, just barely, and your hips jerk at the contact.

Abby chuckles. “Easy, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

She keeps it slow at first, rubbing tight circles over your clit, dragging you into the sensation inch by inch. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time. She knows exactly how to keep you on the edge, teasing you with just enough pressure to keep you wanting more

Your thighs tremble as she pushes two fingers into you, stretching you open with a slow, steady push.

“That’s it,” she breathes, watching your face as you gasp. “Relax for me, baby.”

It takes time. She builds you up carefully, her fingers curling inside you at just the right angle, the heel of her palm grinding against your clit with each slow thrust.

Your first orgasm isn’t rushed. It sneaks up on you, blooming warm and intense in your core before spreading outward in waves. You cling to her, gasping her name as your body shudders through it, the pleasure leaving you boneless against the sheets.

Abby doesn’t move away.

She presses kisses along your jaw, your throat, grounding you as you come down from the high. Her fingers stay inside you, slow and gentle, coaxing you back into the moment.

“That’s one,” she murmurs. “Think you can give me another?”

You nod, still breathless.

Abby takes her time with the second. She keeps her fingers deep, her pace unhurried, letting the aftershocks of your first orgasm melt into the buildup of the next. She never stops touching you, never stops whispering soft, reassuring things against your skin.

It’s slower this time—deeper, more drawn out. By the time the pleasure crests again, you’re shaking, your body hypersensitive from the lingering heat of the last climax.

“That’s it, baby,” Abby praises as she feels you tighten around her fingers. “Let me have it.”

Your second orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping against her shoulder, nails digging into her biceps. This one leaves you dazed, lost in the heavy warmth settling over your limbs.

You barely notice when Abby shifts, moving down the bed until her mouth replaces her fingers.

The first swipe of her tongue sends a full-body shudder through you.

“Abby—” Your voice is wrecked, but she just hums against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine

“You can take one more,” she murmurs, before sealing her lips around your clit and sucking, slow and deep.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. Your hips jerk, your hands twisting in the sheets. The overstimulation borders on unbearable, but Abby knows how to push you past it, how to turn it into something that melts your mind into bliss.

She takes her time dragging you to the edge. Her tongue is methodical, her fingers pressing deep, working you open again and again until you can’t think, can’t do anything but take it.

Your third orgasm is different. It doesn’t crash—it drowns you, slow and all-consuming. Your entire body tenses, then unravels, pleasure seeping into your bones, leaving you limp and trembling beneath her.

Everything is too warm. Too heavy. Your breathing is slow, deep, your mind floating somewhere between sleep and bliss.

Abby presses one last kiss to your thigh before moving back up, gathering you in her arms.

“You still worried about me leaving?” she murmurs against your temple.

You try to answer, but your tongue is thick, your body weighted by exhaustion. A sleepy sound escapes instead, and Abby chuckles, pulling you closer.

“That’s what I thought.”

She tucks the blanket over you, her arms locked around your waist, her breath warm against your hair.

“Go to sleep, baby,” she whispers. “I’ll be back before you wake up.”

And this time, you believe her.

[ghost-proofbaby]

I love the idea of Eddie having an especially grueling day at work his friend (they have mutual feelings but nothing has been said) offers to give him a massage. Eddie is genuinely grateful but also vv flustered by the end!!

listen. LISTEN. i know this got out of hand. i know i said these were going to stay short n sweet. i know what i said and promised. but. listen. you can't hand me a prompt that is just so delicious, with so much potential to sprinkle in a light dusting of angst, and to give me the chance to garnish with a beautiful open ending full of promise, and not expect a monster of a product to come from it. you just can't. i'm sorry. i hope you enjoy this, regardless. even if it's not quite bite-sized.

warnings: seemingly unrequited love that turns into clearly idiots in love. eddie gets shirtless. that's all.

wc: 4.4k+ yikes

It had started off as an innocent, well-intentioned offer. You swear it did. 

When Eddie had called you right after pulling a double at the garage, begging to come over and simply relax at your apartment, you’d set up to allow him to do just that. You’d cleaned up a little bit, lit a candle that normally gave you a headache if it burned too long but that Eddie loved, prepped a selection of movies for him to choose from, pulled out the menu for your favorite take-out – you’d gone the whole nine yards for your best friend. 

Someone might even point out it wasn’t just best friend behavior at this point. Steve and Robin alike had certainly called out your behavior at times, coining it as “girlfriend behavior on a best friend salary”.

You didn’t care. You were well aware of what you were doing, and you didn’t care. 

You’d spend the rest of your life on the best friend salary, as the two dinguses had so lovingly called it, for the look of sheer peace on Eddie’s face right now. 

He’s leaning back on the opposite end of your couch from you, knees spread and chin facing the ceiling as he sighs in bliss. Take-out containers are scattered about the coffee table, and his movie of choice of Return of the Jedi is about halfway over on your TV. 

You both had already chosen a second movie – The Lost Boys. The plans for the night were set in stone.

You tuck both knees up beneath your chin, side-glancing your best friend for a second and ignoring the flutter of your chest as you watch him sink deeper into the cushions, “We can talk about it, y’know.” 

“Hm?” 

“Your day,” you adjust a bit, turning your body to face him fully, “If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. We’ve already seen enough Jabba the Hutt to last a lifetime.”

That earns a smile from him, slowly crackling over his cheeks as he rolls his head towards you, “I dunno. Is there such thing as enough Jabba the Hutt?” 

You toss a piece of your sour watermelon candy at him, and despite it landing on his shirt, he still grabs it to pop it into his mouth. 

You try not to think too hard about how that shirt had been sitting in your drawers, clean and neatly folded, occupying space as if that might be normal. As if everyone has some of their best friend’s clothes at their apartment that they can change into after a long day at work. 

As if everyone has occasionally used said shirt as pajamas on nights they particularly miss the scent of their best friend’s cologne.

“Shut up,” you finally snicker, dropping your knees from your chin, sitting criss-cross now, “We don’t have to talk about your day if you don’t feel like it. By all means, if you wanna keep drooling over an alien slug, be my guest-”

At your teasing, Eddie moves quickly to grab one of your ankles, pulling your feet towards his lap before you can register what he’s doing. You gasp a little, and it’s definitely not because of the feeling of his warm palms wrapped around your bare skin. Totally not at the rush of warmth that travels up your body, head to toe, when you feel his rings pressing into you so eagerly. 

Absolutely not. You gasp, because anybody would gasp in this scenario. Because you’re just best friends. And best friends do stuff like that. 

“I am not drooling over a slug,” he chastises, grinning recklessly as he wiggles his fingers menacingly, mere inches from the bottom of your foot, “Take it back, or pay the price, baby.” 

Has he ever called you baby before? 

Certainly not, if your roaring heart has anything to say about it. 

“Don’t you dare,” you squeal – genuinely squeal – as you try and tug your legs out of his grasp. It’s a useless effort; he’s too strong, even after his long day, and your body isn’t even sure if it approves of taking his hands off of you. “Edward Munson, I swear to God-” 

It’s a mess of flailing limbs, painful laughter, and high-pitched screams from there. Squeaks from your own mouth, and a few from Eddie, mocking you all in good fun as he continues to persist for you to take it back. For just a moment, it feels like this is the normal – you’re living in a space where Eddie comes home from every day, grueling or effortless, to you. Where the two of you always end up on the couch together, bodies touching in any way they can. Where there’s always background noise on the TV as his focus is solely on you, smiling foolishly at his antics that were really just a simple effort to hear your laughter. Where your laughter is the only thing he really wants to hear at the end of the night, and it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard. 

A world where he tells you as much. 

A world where after this, he’s reaching the knob of your shared bedroom door rather than the front door of your lonesome apartment. 

A world where you aren’t existing on a best friend salary.

“Had enough yet, sweetheart?” he quips, just as breathless as you are from the struggle. This time, the nickname he uses is normal. It took you off guard during the first few months of friendship, but now? Your weary heart could handle it, cherish it even, and not let your stupid little crush get in the way of appreciating it. “All you have to say are the magic words.” 

“Are the magic words, you’re a dickhead?”

“Hm,” he pretends to ponder thoughtfully for just a second before shaking his hand, “‘Fraid not. Try again?” 

Instead of verbally replying, you give him a gentle kick in the stomach. Not the magic words he had in mind, but they sure do the trick. 

He lets out a soft oomph, one arm cradling his midsection as though you actually hurt him. You take it as your cue to remove your legs – his dramatics quickly come to a halt to prevent just that.

It’s probably meant to be subtle, the way both his arms fall down over your calves and keep your feet in his lap, but it has the capability to implode your entire world. 

“I can’t believe you’re being mean to me after the day I’ve had,” he whines, and all you can focus on is the way his thumb is rhythmically stroking the ball of your ankle now, “Me, your best friend, has had the most awful day and you-”

“Now you wanna talk about it?” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes at him.

“Absolutely.” 

“After you’ve just tortured me?” 

“Well, yeah. When else would I talk about it?” 

“I’m rescinding my offer to listen,” you continue to joke, making one more good faith offer to slip your legs from his lap. And, once more, he won’t allow it. 

He whines out a long, drawn out no, starting to lay his entire body across your legs this time. More direct, more to the point. Subtleties have been forgotten, you suppose. 

You don’t know if it’s more for you, or for him. You just know you like it. You like existing within a sneak preview of a girlfriend salary.

“You never answered me, drama queen,” you murmur as the joking lean across your legs becomes a bit more heavy, and Eddie is more genuinely collapsing his figure into your lap. He doesn’t even have to ask, or gesture – your fingers find home within his hair, and you can feel his hum of content against your thigh as you scratch along his scalp, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

All joking pretenses slip away from him as he mumbles out a muffled, “Not really.”

And you can work with that. You swear, you can. 

If you’d been so ready to lend a listening ear, then you can offer him this peace and quiet. A simple head massage as he leans into you, cheeks pressed to the top of your thigh as you think he returns to watching Return of the Jedi. 

His eyes might be closed, if his heavy breaths are anything to go off of. You’re just not sure. 

You just keep up your massage, sluggish strokes, clement scratches, deep breaths to match his own- 

And then, an idea hits you.

“Eds,” you whisper, your hand in his hair traveling to his shoulders, shaking him a bit, “Eddie.”

Only a grunt in response.

“Eddie, seriously, get up,” you stress, overeager, “I have an idea.”

“The apartment better be on fire,” he grumbles as he finally raises his head, face imprinted with the lines of your shorts in rolling hills of soft indents. 

Definitely was sleeping. Definitely wasn’t watching Star Wars. 

But even with his shoulders wrapped with dreary slumber, you’re still excited about your idea, motioning him to sit up fully. You let him take his time, of course, only after he swats your hands away sluggishly a few times. 

Once his back is straight, you lift one finger in the air, and draw a circle – motioning for him to turn his back to you without saying a word. 

His eyes narrow to slits at you, “Are you about to pull a prank on me? Because-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, reaching for his shoulders, nearly turning him yourself, “Scout’s honor.” 

He listens to you. Despite it all, despite his seeming mistrust, he turns his back to you. More specifically, he turns his shoulders to you. 

He’s still mumbling on about how you better not make his day worse, getting a little bit snappier when you gather his hair up to lay out of your way and claiming his scalp was extra sensitive today.

You pay his attitude no mind. He’s just grumpy. It doesn’t particularly phase you after years of close friendship.

“Listen, I know you like braiding my hair, but-” he continues with his protests as you grin behind him, shaking your head as you settle yourself closer to him. Knees bumping his hips, back straight for the time being. “I’d rather just nap right now. And I was really comfy, and really getting my rocks off to that damn alien slug-” 

All his words cut off when you finally put your plan into action. Your palms fall atop his shoulders, fingers curling around the tense skin, and he’s melting before you’ve even begun. 

“I- Oh,” he jumps a little at the first squeeze, but quickly returns to being pliant in your hold, “Oh… That’s…. That’s nice.” 

You continue your massage, gently squeezing, thumbs and fingers digging into any knots you find to work them away as you jeer, “Is it now?”

He nods, the smallest of movements as to not interrupt your work, “It is. ‘S real nice.” 

His head rolls with each pinch of your fingers, posture loosening as he leans back into your touch further. 

You take it a step further, biting back nerves when you slip your hands beneath the collar of his old t-shirt. You feel the shiver begin before it races down his spine at the press of your skin directly on his now. 

Your warm hands work dutifully, determined to bring as much relaxation to your best friend as possible. Definitely not enjoying yourself a bit too much at his smooth skin under your palms. Definitely not enjoying yourself just as much as he is. Certainly not. 

The shirt constricts you, though. Prevents your hands from traveling fully over sore spots you can feel the edges of. Catching your wrists, limiting the full potential of your movements. 

You’re glad he can’t see you as you suddenly request, “Take your shirt off.” 

“Hm?” he can’t form a proper word at first, not startled but simply sunken too deep in his relaxation, “What was that?” 

“I need your shirt off, Munson.” 

You try to sound brave, nonchalant, as you repeat yourself. You don’t want him to hear the fluttering of your heart – you don’t want him to hear the shake of your hands as you remove them from him.

You only want him to hear the totally reasonable request from a friend, who is simply trying to offer the best massage possible to their best friend who’s had a bad day. 

“Oh?” he looks over his shoulder, and you can see the edges of his raised brows through messy bangs, “Damn, sweetheart. If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask.” 

Can ribs break from a heart beating too fast? Is that even possible? 

“I did ask,” your voice is flat as a trade off to avoid any quivering to filtrate it, lips pressing tightly together as you swallow your heart, “So get to it.”

He leans forward, putting a bit of distance between you two before he reaches back to grab the center of his shirt. The fabric comes off with a flourish, and all you’re left face to face with is the bare expanse of his back.

You silently beg him not to look back over his shoulder, if only for just a second. 

You’ve seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times. At pool parties with the entire group, on rare lake days that always ended sun drunk and giddy, that one time he’d answered his door right after a quick shower and you’d seen a lot more than you’d bargained for. He was your friend. After a while, it would have been weirder to not have seen Eddie shirtless at least once. 

Something about this time feels different. 

He has freckles – not nearly as much as Steve or Robin, but they still exist. Small markings across skin glowing warmly in the dim light of your living room lamp, spattered without rhyme or reason. One on the back of his left shoulder, another slightly off-centered at the base of his neck. He has a light scar towards the bottom of his right shoulder blade – a memory from his childhood he told you once when you’d first seen it at the lake. Everyone else was out splashing about the ten-degrees-too-cool water, and he’d joined your side on the shore. Laid on his stomach as you laid on your back, offering you conversation in the form of stories about every blemish across his skin. The intentional tattoos, the unintentional scars. Everything. 

Even that day doesn’t quite compare to the intimacy of him being here now, being shirtless in your apartment, just the two of you. 

Maybe there was something extra in your coffee this morning, making you feel so delusional. 

“I don’t have any lotion or oils,” you finally clear your throat, trying to joke about as the two of you had been before, “But that doesn’t matter. You ready for the best damn massage of your life, Munson?” 

“Yes, please,” he groans, and something deep in your stomach clenches at the sound, “Want me to lay down or something?” 

Your brain short-circuits for a second, because you know where that leads. 

If he lays down, there’s only one way to continue to comfortably give him the massage. If he lays down, you’re about to bite off more than you could chew on a best friend salary. 

“Sure,” you choke out, damning yourself in the process. 

It’s all robotic mechanics as you two shift to assume the position; you stand up, and he sprawls out. And you swear, in the process, you catch a smothering of pink slow creeping across his chest and neck. 

“Can I…” you start to question, finally growing a bit shy as you stare down at the dip of his lower back. Two dimples on either side of his spine, looking so inviting and yet daunting. 

He finishes the sentence for you, saving you the embarrassment, “Sit on me? Yeah, go for it, babe.” 

There it is again. An unfamiliar nickname that falls so effortlessly off the lips for him. Another pet name to send you into a tailspin as your breath catches and your heart races, as though needing to catch up after the fleeting endearment.

“Thanks,” you whisper out. 

You’re starting to regret all your choices, but it’s too late to back down now. You just want to help him relax – that’s all this is. 

Stop making this more than it is. 

You’re exceptionally careful as you crawl over Eddie, placing a knee on either side of him, hovering for just a second as you take deep breaths to hype yourself up to do the inevitable. 

He twists a bit, startling you enough for you to balance yourself with a palm on each shoulder blade, “C’mon now, you’re not going to crush me. You should know this by now,” his eyes glitter, and you know he’s referring to that time you two made a bet he couldn’t carry you bridal style while drunk. He could, “Sit your pretty ass down and get to work, Masseuse.” 

You weren’t imagining the pink across his chest and neck. It’s climbed up now, tendrils tickling his cheeks. The bridge of his nose nearly looks sunburnt from this angle. 

It’s a good look on him. 

“Masseuse?” you snort as you shove him to be fully laying down once more, needing to get his eyes off of you for just a second, “That’s an awfully big word. You been reading without me or something? Becoming a secret genius?” 

Fall back into the normal flow of things. Try not to think about the heat of him between your legs as you sit half your weight down. 

“That is not a big word,” he chides. 

“Spell it, then.” 

“I-” he cuts off as your hands smooth back over his skin, no more restrictions. 

He never finishes his sentence, never complies with your request. All that falls from his lips are soft sighs as you begin the massage again. 

There’s an occasional twitch below his muscles as you knead away, slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with it all. Becoming more mesmerized as you can now see his skin moving with you, occasionally letting up when you skirt past freckles and scars alike, fingertips merely tracing them as he shivers under your delicate touch. 

You do exactly as you set out to do – you relax him. And then some.

You’ve never really gotten into the art of massages, something about it always feeling a bit too intimate. You’d never consider yourself a professional at it by any means – if anything, you’ve been on the receiving end rather than the giving end more often than not. And even those occurrences were rare. 

But when it came to Eddie, it seemingly came naturally. 

Not all of your movements are conventional. You pass back and forth between the usual squeezes of skin you’ve witnessed on TV and from others, and gentle tracing of your fingertips. Drawing shapes, painting pictures that vanish without ever having existed in the first place. Words, sentences, secret messages for just you two. 

When you trace out the endearment of idiot, Eddie seems to catch on, lazy grin peeking up past his curtain of hair covering the cheek almost facing you. 

In another place, where you make that coveted girlfriend salary, you’d trace out three little words on the tip of your tongue. 

You almost do it, too. It’s when you trace out idiot, in fact. You start, entirely subconsciously, with the i. A long pause, a space between words. 

And then you trace an l. One long line down the center of his spine. 

Your finger is already rotating for the o, ready to trace it in the center as the other two letters had been, a signalling it wasn’t a part of that last simple line. 

And then you divert. And you rush to finish out with the i, the o, the t. He laughs a little, the rush of air felt below you as he lets it out soundlessly, and you catch sight of his smile.

A seeming endearment to Eddie, a hidden scolding for yourself. 

Maybe one day you can find the nerve to properly trace it out – or better yet, say it. Speak your truth outloud and handle whatever consequences come from it. Because you do – you really, really do mean it – and those feelings for Eddie can’t seem to change. Something carved into your very soul, unchanging as the years pass. If anything, the carving only digs deeper into you with each month you spend with him. 

One day. But not today, not when Eddie’s had a bad day. It should be a good day when you say it, lessening the blow of rejection, hopefully. 

You almost lose your balance a few times. Each time having to adjust your position of sitting on him, shifting his hips right along with yours. And each time, you notice the catch in his sighs. The way they almost transform into moans, tense noises that seemingly tear from his throat, only dampened by poor attempts to conceal them. Even the back of his neck has grown flushed now, the tips of his ears vibrant when you see them poke through his hair. 

Sometimes, you lose your balance from his shifting, even. 

The air is sticky with tension as you finally finish up. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour – you weren’t keeping score, more focused on continuing on until Eddie’s entire body has gone boneless beneath you. 

Pretty, and pink, and pliant. Entirely slackened beneath your touches. 

It takes more to encourage yourself to climb off of him than it did to climb on originally. Your body protests entirely, knees not caring for the ache forming, inner thighs happy to be bracketing his hips. But you do it. Because you’re just a friend, a best friend, helping your friend relax. 

You stand, towering over him, looking down to find him hiding his face just a bit. “Well?” 

“Well, what?” his voice is entirely muffled by his mouthful of couch cushion, and you furrow your brows. 

“How was it?” 

He lifts his face strategically. He probably hopes you don’t notice, but you do, “Oh! Oh, it was, uh- It was fucking great, sweetheart. I… I swear, your hands are fucking magic.” 

Why is he tripping over his words like that? 

He can’t even look you in the eyes, line of sight darting anywhere but you.

Why is he flushed, head to toe? 

“Yeah?” you cross your arms, and subtly lean to block the TV now displaying credits that Eddie found terribly interesting, “Would you consider it the best massage you’ve ever had?” 

He nods, and you catch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before squeaking out, “Oh, yeah! The absolute best I’ve ever had,” his eyes widen at his words, as if he’s made a terrible choice that you’re unaware of, “I mean, you know, I just- you should really consider becoming an actual masseuse.”

That’s when it hits you; Eddie is absolutely refusing to sit up. To remove his hips from your couch. 

He’s blushing, and he’s stuttering, and he’s definitely hiding something. 

There’s a twist in your gut that you can’t reveal. A satisfaction you know better than to celebrate right now. 

Instead, you decide to play with him just a little bit more. 

“Good,” you nod, stepping towards the end of the couch you’d originally occupied. Where Eddie’s knees are stiff against. “Maybe I will consider a career change. But for now – move, Munson. I’m just exhausted.” 

“What?” he looks at you, frightened, only moving his neck to keep his hips flush and hidden away. 

“Get your legs out of my seat,” you laugh a little, leveling him with a daring stare. 

You know what he’s hiding. You’re a bit proud of it, too. 

“Oh, yeah,” he says slowly, and you can see him going over his options in his head. A million excuses he’s probably conjuring, a hundred different escape plans he’s grasping at. “Yeah, of course.” 

And, just as you’d suspected, he doesn’t go with a single one to save his dignity. 

He moves quickly. Tucking his legs up and twisting himself into an upright position in the blink of an eye, and immediately grabbing one of your throw pillows that two of you had tossed off into the floor amidst the original movie night plans. 

He’s fast, you’ll give him that. But not fast enough for you to not catch sight of the tent in his pants. 

You don’t let your eyes linger too long. Swallow down any drooling threatening to begin. Tamper down any desire flaring in your chest and between your hips. 

Best friend salary, you remind yourself even as you grin a tad bit too salaciously for your current cover. Best friend salary, not girlfriend salary. 

You plop down on the seat still warm from Eddie’s legs, sinking back in self-satisfaction. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it doesn’t have to be another time, or place, or Universe to get what you want. Maybe all your delusion, that wild imagination of yours, wasn’t so misplaced after all. 

Best friend salary, your mind whispers. For now.

Eddie makes himself comfortable right along with you, still seeming in a much better condition than when he’d first arrived, even if his cheeks had bloomed into a rose garden. He presses that throw pillow of yours protectively over his crotch, and once more focuses on the screen in front of you two. 

“Say, Eddie,” you drawl, almost radiant with your grin. A fire now lit inside both of you. “Think you could be a doll and pop in the next movie for me?” 

It’s a little evil, you’ll admit. But he kind of deserves it for underpaying you over the years, when it’s so clear you’re due for a promotion. Sometime soon, you hope. 

Both your heads turn to each other at the same time, wildly different speeds. Eddie’s neck snaps in disbelief, while you take your time to make eye contact.

All it takes is one knowing look exchanged, and the illusion fumbles on its stilts. 

“I…” his embarrassment, all that flush, slowly morphs as he catches the truth behind your intentions. The hand pressing down on the throw pillow alleviates just a bit, stiff shoulders relaxing as they should have been after your massage as he reflects back just as evil of a glint in his eyes as you had, “Sure thing, baby.”

It’s probably going to be a long night. Surely, the promotion of best friend to girlfriend is going to involve some paperwork. Or an interview, to prove your capability and experience first hand, of course.

But, well, he never did put his shirt back on, did he?

[mahyuume]

CAPABLE OF LOVE!

— synopsis. the ways he proofs being capable of showing love!

pairing. various!haikyuu, jjk, bllk, mha x reader | genre. romance, fluff, crack.

reminders. I’m posting after a suuuper long break, hope you guys like this! | mlist

I THINK I NEED I NEED A PICTURE, is something you’ve said countless times to your boyfriend (who will one day be your husband) then proceeding to whip out any kind of device capable of taking a photo. Currently, is happening right now.

“Baby, we need a picture, again!” You gleam at him, the look on his face already dreading the next fifty photos going to be taken; exhausted from taking the last hundred— or maybe more than that photos. But, reluctantly, he agrees. “Fine, but this is the last time,” the boy sighs then flashes his award winning smile. Just in time for- click! that. Now holding the freshly printed Polaroid, he takes a look at your face instead of the physical copy of you both.

Staring at the facial features adorned on you, he sees no flaws whatsoever. He stares at your eyes; shiny but with the hints of clear joy. Lips— he’s kissed them multiple times, but never got over how soft and plush they felt. Always wondered how you do it.

“Are you even listening to me?” You turned your head to him, giving him a small frown. He snaps back into his senses from you cutting his train if thought; now darting back at your eyes, then lips again. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of all the mushy thoughts in his head. “What were you saying?” Giving a small huff, you re-explain why you both need so many photos. But truth be told, he wasn’t listening one bit. Okay, just a little, but your face is something he could look at for hours. The look of love is real when it comes to him, due to the fact that he always manages to accidentally ignore you; all while adoring you.

As voices drown out, he thinks about adding this new photo to the heart shaped Polaroid collection in his room. Cracks out a stupid smile, then further proves to be undeniably whipped for you.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, NAGI SEISHIRO, RIN ITOSHI, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, SHOTO TODOROKI, NEITO MONOMA.

‘CAUSE IT’S NEVER ENOUGH! Is what your boyfriend says almost if not every-time he gifts you things. His reasoning is always “just because” and that he truly meant it when he said if he could give you the whole world, he would. And what I just relayed out for you to process, plays out in your daily life. And is, right now.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Repeated sounds of the doorbell chiming in your ear, you smile as you already know who’s behind the door while opening it for your love. But this time like most, it’s not your love facing you. It’s a big teddy bear that’s twice his size. You’re even surprised a thing like that could fit into his car!

“And who is this for?” You question him, a silly one at that. “Some cute girl I met.” He responds but not so clearly since the bear completely hides his figure besides the arms of his holding it up, drowning in the big fluffy stuffy. You roll your eyes at his answer, “Oh? Come in and tell me all about her.” Entertaining him, you take the legs of the bear and help him inside. And oh my, it was pretty heavy. But no surprise your super strong fiancé could lift it without a sweat.

“I would but…” “But?” “I have more things for the pretty girl inside my car,” he looks over at you with a stupid smile. “If you don’t mind.” He says while walking away back to the front door in a seemingly rush.

Coming back, his hands and arms are full of designer goods, and some even being valentine gifts. Talk about a man who can treat!

“You got me all this?” A gasp leaves your pretty lips as he stares at them, it making him smile in return too. “Yup.” Helping him get the bags, he watches you with a dumb look that makes you wanna slap him for being such a mushy lover. Of course, in a good way!

Opening your early valentine gifts, each one never failed to surprise you and leave you even more grateful for the man watching and recording your reactions. He points to the Nekta bag next to you. In the video, you’re surrounded by countless luxury brands but he decides to point out a specific one.

“Open that one baby.” He smirks behind the camera, watching your face twist into one of excitement and shying away from the camera. “Why? What’s in here?” You say as your paid for nails on hands reach for the Nekta bag. Opening it, there’s many boxes to choose from. You’re not sure which he meant. “Which one?” He points to a small one, the tiniest out of the bunch.

Unraveling the box and seeing the message, cluelessly, you didn’t notice how your boyfriend set down the phone and got down on one knee.

‘Look in front of you dummy.’ You read aloud then looked up. And there he was, holding the missing ring from the box, proposing to you with it.

“Will you marry me?”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI, SATORU GOJO, SAE ITOSHI, REO MIKAGE, KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

TO SEE YOU SMILING IN MY MIND is a memory you often hear being told over and over again by your boyfriend. His dreams of you both are beyond romantic or very dramatic, there’s really no in between.

By far the most exaggerated thing he’d ever say is something about how you two turned into fishes and lived a happy life together swimming around the ocean, avoiding sharks and fishermen. But this time, it’s quite different.

Ding! Ding! Your phone goes off at 7:35pm, right as you’re getting ready for bed or doing whatever it is. Checking what notified you, a smile lit across your face as you read your boyfriend’s display name.

Weird random: Babe

Weird random: I had another dream call me rn it’s so important

Giggling and mentally calling him a weirdo, you read the messages in-app then click the Video Call option.

“Oh my gosh baby, you won’t believe what I dreamt of.” Is what you hear your boyfriend say from the audio of your phone that’s now prompt up on a water glass as a substitute for a stand. “What’d you predict this time?” You cheekily asked him as he closes the space between his device and face; now a super close up of him is in your screen.

You’re not complaining though. He’s in one of those hoodies you promised yourself to ‘borrow’ one of these days and has messy bed hair, which tells you he just woke up from a nap.

“Okay so like, it’s me and you right,” he settles his phone down somewhere around his house, now making hand motions like a story teller. “Mhm.” “We’re having this cute date and stuff right.” “And?” “And then like, you look so beautiful. Like so, like, just so beautiful that flowers bloom when you walk near them type of beautiful!”

Laughing at his silly compliment, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks turn a pink hue. “You’re so corny I swear…” it’s his turn to laugh at your comment, “Come on girl, don’t tease me like that.” His voice suddenly turns into one more of a softer beat, “hurts my feelings.” He says as he puts a hand on his heart, seemingly clutching it. Rolling your eyes at your favorite boy, he continues on with his story- dream. His dream.

“Then boom, some random dude comes up to you and goes like ‘hey you’re pretty’ and I’m like ‘dude back off’ and then we get into a fight in order to see who wins your love.” At this point he was just background music as you did your night routine. “Babe, are you even listening?” Or maybe not.

“Of course I am.” You look at him from the side of your eye, noticing how he’s now closer than earlier. “Doesn’t seem like it.” From the looks of it, it seems like you’re plain out ignoring him. But you’e not, really! “Promise I am.” Adjusting the camera to face you fully now, he focuses on you rather than talking about his hefty dream storyline.

“What if I just married you, like, tomorrow?”

What a nice question he asked, and your answer is…

“I don’t know?” You stop doing whatever you’re doing and look at him. “Why’re you asking?” “No reason.” Liar. “Stop lying!” His hands go up in protest, “I’m not!” He looks away for a bit then returns to stare at you. “Just… just had a dream about it.” And it clicks.

“So that’s what you were trying to tell me?” And like that, it’s as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “Ah, I guess so…” he muttered, hand on his nape as he realizes he’s not the best at lying when it comes to you. “I mean, come on!” He finally breaks, “you looked so good in the wedding dress and we…” his voice trails off the second you were getting invested.

“We?” You omit him to continue, but it comes out hurriedly. “We had a big, happy family. Like seriously happy.” He admits with a smile, clearly smitten about you. This makes you innerly gush about him.

“Yeah?” “Yeah. We did.” He sighs, “If only it were true.” He fake pouts, an ugly thing he does that makes you laugh horribly. “I mean, it can be.” You nonchalantly said, as if you weren’t wishing for the same thing. His eyes light up from your sentence, lips curling into a smile. “You can’t take that back!” You laugh at his antics, “as if I would ever.”

SHOYO HINATA, TOORU OIKAWA, YUUJI ITADORI, MEGURU BACHIRA, YOICHI ISAGI, KEIGO TAKAMI (HAWKS).

​৻ꪆ. Happy valentines everyone! I hope you like this one. (It’s been planned ever since December.) there were supposed to be two more lines added but I seriously ran out of time and didn’T know who else to write for… so, take this??

[marbofmoorock]

Gotta love the day after Valentine's Day. Jax strikes me as the type of guy to buy up a bunch of seasonal candy when it's cheap and on clearance the day after.

He presents a few to Ragatha as she seemed down in the dumps after a rush adventure with dogsripping up other dolls:

"Ey Dollface, don't you know life is, eh, like a box of Chocolates?"

"Oh, weeeell, ehehe, yeah, Becaaause you don't know what you're gonna ge-"

(Splat)

"NOPE. Life just kinda has a way of testing people, like right now Raggy."

Ragatha Sits completely stunned as the partially melted chocolates slides down and covers her face. She already had kind of a bad day, and just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Jax throws melted Chocolate in her face for a cheap laugh.

She tears up.

"(Sobs)...Y-yeah...I guess..."

Jax notices Ragatha's more sad response, usually expecting her to be upset after all that had gone on today. But Ragatha was clearly done with today, tearing up as she felt like everything was just falling apart around her, no matter how much she had helped.

Jax feels a pang of guilt, something he hadn't felt in a long time, despite often antagonizing others for fun.

"I... Look, I'm sorry Rags...eeh, I...Didn't know you'd take it so hard uhh-"

Jax pauses, seeing how Ragatha is still covered in chocolate, it's all over her face and her dress. She sat down on a nearby block, and buried her face in her mitt hands.

Jax starts to realize that he's really messed up, feeling anxious and upset, hoping to fix what he had done, a gentler and more considerate side of Jax coming out as he finds a nearby box of wipes, and walks back up to Ragatha.

At first, she winces at Jax as she seemed next to broken at this point, unable to handle another joke or anything mean. She lifts her head and her eyes meet Jax's out of fear and confusion as she guards her face with her hands.

"Stop..." She said weakly, thinking Jax was going to hurt her again.

Jax saw the hurt in Ragatha's eyes, and felt awful.

"Hold still Rags, I'm gonna fix this."

"Fix...-wh-huh?"

Jax places a wet wipe on Ragatha's chocolate covered face, wiping clean the section of her face the wipe is on.

Ragatha, fearful of Jax at first, started to see that this wasn't a prank, motionless to see what would happen next, as Jax was acting so out of character, she thought.

Jax continued to wipe Ragatha's face, hair, and was even able to clean off most of the stains on her dress since they were fresh. Ragatha starred in silence, confused and surprised at what was going on.

"Jaxxy..." Ragatha whispered under her breath, still flabbergasted.

Jax looked at Ragatha as he threw the used wipes away and looked at Ragatha. Ragatha returned her gaze, curious as to what is even going on.

"Jax, I...I have no words. You pulled a real dirty prank on me, yet... you cleaned up the mess, and took care of me."

Jax looks down in silence, feeling stupid, unable to look Ragatha in the eye, until Ragatha holds Jax's cheek, gently leaning his chin in her direction.

"Jax...what's going on?" She said, wistfully gazing into Jax's eyes as she hoped quietly he might be trying to change.

"Look, I've hurt you. I can see that. I've hurt everyone, and I thought it was all a game... That is, until now... I must have hurt you the most, didn't I? I've not been kind to you Raggy."

"You do pull too many harmful pranks. But I still like you just fine. Let's just try to stick together more, okay?"

Jax Smiles; "Okay Dollface, i thinkwe can do that."

"Thank you Jaxxy...I like when you surprise me." says Ragatha as she holds Jax close, Jax blushes a little as Ragatha closes her eyes and snuggles closer to Jax as her arms are wrapped around his waist.

Jax sees and feels Ragatha's strong affections, returning them by giving Ragatha more of his own, Hugging Ragatha close in a intimate and sweet way. He was being more of a snuggly bunny, instead of a real raspy rash of a rabbit he usually was before.

Jax felt the need to shelf his harmful pranks and be more of a team player, so he declares this to Ragatha to further support her in their newly formed trust.

"I'm sorry, Raggy, I'm sorry for everything. I'll make it up to you guys, we'll be a team. I'll help build trust with everyone again, we'll make it out one day, and I won't leave any of you behind."

"Aw, Jaxxy, I forgive you, and I love you. Just don't let go of me Jaxxy, I don't know if I could handle being this low.... Alone... Again."

"I promise Raggy, to be there for you, and for everyone."

Ragatha sinks deeper into Jax's Embrace, further cementing their shared forgiveness.

...

After Ragatha and Jax bond and settle their differences, Jax goes around to Apologize to Everyone with Ragatha's blessing

He starts with Gangle, whom was doing sketches on the stage in the main tent.

Jax decides to not beat around the bush with Gangle, as he tormented her a lot.

"I'm sorry Gangle. Maybe I could help you build a comedy mask that sticks together."

Gangle, surprised as Ragatha was, put her notebook down in shock, waiting for Jax to prank her a second later when she wasn't expecting it.

"W...w-what?" Said Gangle, confused, and sad since her comedy mask broke yet again today.

"Your mask Gangle. It's made of porcelain, so it's always breaking. You need more plastic masks so they don't break anymore. I could help ya with that. It's the least I can do, I've been a real jerk to ya Ribbons, and, and..."

Gangle then looks into Jax's eyes, seeing the determination, anxiety, and care in his voice and darting eyes, her heartwarming gaze leaves Jax trailing off with a stare, hoping he hadn't offended or hurt her already, as Jax knew how sensitive Gangle was.

"Jax wow...I...I... forgive you." Gangle smiles, delighted and relieved seeing Jax is genuine in his apology, desiring to be better. "I also accept your help to fix my masks."

Jax smiles and they hug it out, happy to be friends again, Gangle trusting Jax and being closer to him now more than ever before.

"Kaufmo may be gone, but we're still here. We'll make it, all of us, together. Ragatha's there for us too, no matter what."

Gangle sheds a tear as Jax and Gangle Hug, her ribbon arms tightening as she remembers Kaufmo upon hearing Jax speak of him, as well as Ragatha's endless compassion.

"Of Course Jaxxy. We'll do it for him and for all of us."

...

Later, Kinger and Jax sit on the couch together after Jax asked him if they could talk.

"Kinger, I just want you to know I'm sorry.

"Ha-Okay Jax. I understand. Just be nice, and things will be grand. I knew you'd come around. All is forgiven."

They do a bro hug, and Jax and Kinger go about their day, Kinger is very understanding of Jax, and Jax is relieved and also unsurprised that Kinger would forgive him so fast, but was grateful regardless.

....

After that quickly lived apology, Jax approaches Pomni.

Pomni was in her room and Jax kocked on her door.

Pomni answers it.

"Hi ther-oh. Uh...Hey..."

Pomni's words were cautious and suspicious as she found out who was at her door, she was ready for Jax to take a potshot at her, ready for anything Jax had coming.

"Pomni, I've got something important I want to say."

Pomni looks at Jax, studying his expression as she watched slightly guarded behind the door.

"Okaaaay...what is it?"

Jax sighs.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Pomni pauses, not expecting Jax to Apologize.

"Sorry? Foooor...what?"

"For... not treating you better when you arrived up until now, and everything else for that matter. I've been a real jerk to you and everyone else, and I'm sorry...I don't expect you to forgive me, I just want you to understand, and know that I will be looking out for everyone here on out."

Pomni opens the door a little, fully unveiling herself to Jax, seeing how frustrated and sad Jax looked, as if he had wanted to apologize for the longest time, but was too prideful and finally cracked.

"I don't understand... Why are you apologizing now? Why are you being like this?"

"Because... I've caused everyone a lot of pain... and i want to do something, even if i can't make up for it."

Pomni silently watches Jax, seeing how remorseful he was.

"I have toyed with you and screwed around too much. You're a part of the crew, Pomni, and just know that we're all gonna look out for you from here on out. All of us, Ragatha, Gangle, Kinger, I've made amends with everyone, everyone except..."

"Thank you Jax. I think Zooble will find it in their heart to forgive you...I know Zooble might have most difficulty doing so, but, I can see you're sorry. Just know I forgive you, okay?"

Jax smiles, relieved to know Pomni accepts his forgiveness and has restored a level of trust with her. "Thank you Pomni. I won't let you down again. And I guess I should go tell her."

"I could come with you if you need me to, Jax."

"I'm the one who played with Zooble's feelings, I should do this one my own. Later Pomni."

"Okay... if you're sure. See ya Jax."

Pomni closes her door as Jax scoots over to Zooble's room, which her door was wide open. Zooble had three boxes full of parts of varying kinds, she was shuffling through each of them, hoping to find a pieces she'd like, seemingly frustrated over how she couldn't find one.

Jax considered checking in later, but Zooble notices him first.

"Oh great... what do you want now?" She said with a bitter tone, ready for Jax's onslaught of pranking she was used to at any moment.

"Zooble, I uh, just want you to know that I....am...sorry."

Zooble scoffs at hearing Jax saying that.

"No, you're not."

Jax felt guilty as he could feel Zooble's frustration as she rejected his apology.

"What's your ■■■■ing problem anyway? You seek to prank me a whole lot. Now you make a mess of my already circus life, and now you're just gonna walk on in here, and just apologize to make it all better!? You must think I'm some kinda idiot."

"...I am sorry. I really am."

"Shut up, you aren't. You don't need to try. You're not worth it."

Jax thinks over how he's going to explain this.

"Zooble wait, I'm-

(THEN ANOTHER VOICE WAS HEARD, no, MULTIPLE, at Zooble's doorway)

"He's Sorry, he really is..." Said Gangle, trying to convince Zooble that Jax was nice for a change for real.

"Really? Clearly this is buildup for another one of his 'jokes.' He's gonna spring it on-"

"Zooble, give him a chance, he really is sorry..." Said Ragatha.

Zooble sees Ragatha feeling much better than she did earlier, feeling as if she's perhaps missed something, but still remains guarded.

"You too? What the f■■■ is going on around here? Have you guys gone mad? Jax is a piece of sh-"

"Ha-Zooble," said Kinger next, "Jax has asked everyone for forgiveness, even me. He has changed. He's turned a new leaf Zoobie."

"Kinger, Jax is always toying with us of course he's waiting to-"

Zooble stops mid-sentence again to see Pomni walking up, from behind the rest of the crew at the doorway, smiling.

"He does mean it Zooble..." Said Pomni, hoping Zooble would understand, knowing how much the jester was hurt by Jax.

Jax, was silent, looking away, unsure of what to say, not trying to sway Zooble's opinion, surprised that everybody decided to stand up for him to show Zooble he was a good guy.

"Uuugggh...(sigh) Fine Jax. You're forgiven. We'll work on it. But yeah..."

Jax lights up a little, smiling in a more happy way, as opposed to his usual sly calculated expression.

"Thank you, Zooble. I'll make it up to you, I will."

The whole crew brings Jax and Zooble into a hug, everyone hugging it out as Ragatha ushers in everyone into a big cuddle puddle.

Caine pops in out of nowhere, seeing everyone get along, and gets in on the big snuggle hug too.

"Aww, I'm so glad you guys are getting along!" Said Caine as they let him in on the hug too, Bubble also joins in the hug, making cute noises.

The End.

I'm lazy but I still wanted to put something out wheeze

Happy V Day !

[solxamber]

Hi Sol! Hope your having a good February so far!

Could I get a: Leona, Romantic with Shivers by Ed Sheeran?

Happy early Valentine's day!

"Like my soul's on fire" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Shivers by Ed Sheeran

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 650

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Happy Ending, Realization of feelings

Leona Kingscholar doesn’t chase things.

The world has always handed him its expectations, its disappointments, its half-hearted praises wrapped in thinly veiled insults. He’s learned to shrug it all off—to take only what he needs and sleep through the rest.

But then there’s you.

And Leona doesn’t chase, no—but he follows.

Because when you burst into his life, wild and restless, dragging him by the wrist into whatever chaos you’ve concocted this time, he finds himself moving before he can think. He groans, he complains, he calls you a menace—yet he always follows.

And it should irritate him. The way you throw yourself into things with no plan, no hesitation. The way you insist on midnight road trips with no destination, on dancing under flickering neon signs, on sneaking onto rooftops just to stare at the sky. It should be exhausting, annoying—

But damn it, you make his blood burn.

And Leona, for all his grumbling, has never felt more alive.

Tonight, it’s the city. You’re out past a reasonable hour, the streets buzzing with life, headlights flashing against wet pavement. There’s a chill in the air, but you barely seem to notice, too caught up in whatever scheme has taken hold of you this time.

Leona leans against the hood of his car, watching you with that lazy half-smirk that does nothing to hide the heat in his gaze.

“Tell me there’s a plan,” he drawls, even though he already knows the answer.

You flash him a grin, eyes alight with mischief. “Where’s the fun in that?”

And of course, he should’ve known. You live for the rush, for the spontaneity, for the feeling of wind whipping through your hair as you take a leap without looking. And the worst part?

You make him want to jump too.

Before he knows it, you’ve grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. And for all his complaints, he doesn’t resist.

He never does.

Hours blur together—bright lights, laughter, stolen kisses in the shadows of alleyways. Leona doesn’t remember the last time he let himself have fun, not like this. Not in a way that didn’t feel like a performance, like something expected of him.

But with you, it’s different.

With you, it’s easy.

You don’t want the prince. You don’t want the strategist, the second-born, the disappointment, the afterthought. You just want him.

And it terrifies him.

Because Leona has spent his whole life avoiding expectations he can’t meet, avoiding fights he can’t win. He never lets himself want things too much. It’s easier that way.

But then there’s you—laughing, warm, pressing close to him as the night lingers on—and he knows, deep down, that this is a battle he’s already lost.

It’s nearly dawn when you both end up somewhere quieter, the city still humming in the distance. You’re leaning against his shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you, but you’re smiling, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over the back of his hand.

Leona watches you, his mind a mess of things he’ll never say out loud.

You make him want things. You make him ache.

And then, in that quiet, reckless way of yours, you say, “Leona, let’s stay like this forever.”

His breath catches.

It’s a stupid thing to say. Impossible, even. Forever isn’t real—not for people like him, who have spent their lives being second place, almost-enough, not-quite-worthy.

But you look at him like you mean it. Like you really believe it’s possible.

And damn it all, maybe he wants to believe it too.

Leona exhales, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “You sure you can handle forever with me?”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, your smile soft but certain. “Try me.”

And Leona, who has spent his whole life avoiding the things he can’t win, decides—just this once—to stop running.

If this is a dream, he thinks, then he never wants to wake up.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[meadowfics]

baby its your birthday

cho hyun-ju x f!reader

you pamper your wife for her birthday

warnings: no squid game in this au

the night before hyun-ju’s birthday, she’s quiet.

you notice the slight pout on her lips, the way she sighs a little heavier than usual, but when you ask if something’s wrong, she just shakes her head and smiles.

soft, but clearly forced.

you don’t push, just pulling her into your arms as you lay in bed together.

in reality, she thinks you forgot.

you’ve been busy lately, caught up with work and other responsibilities, and she doesn’t want to seem needy.

she can’t help the small ache in her chest as midnight passes with no mention of her birthday.

however, you were asleep at midnight, she knows that.

you wake up when she’s asleep.

slipping out of bed, you quietly start setting up everything you planned.

a spa day at home, her favorite meals, a cozy movie night...

all of it perfectly catered to her.

in the morning, she wakes up groggy, blinking at the tray of breakfast in bed you’re holding. her eyes widen when she sees the fresh fruit, the warm pastries, the coffee made just the way she likes it.

“happy birthday, my love,”

you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

she blinks a few more times, clearly processing, before her lips tremble into a smile.

“so I see that you remembered.”

she whispers, and your heart aches at the insecurity in her voice.

“of course i remembered,”

you say, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“you really thought i’d forget? today’s all about you.”

after breakfast, you lead her to the bathroom where a warm bath is waiting, infused with calming lavender and rose petals floating on the surface.

she sinks in with a happy sigh, letting you massage her shoulders as she relaxes completely.

once she’s out, you wrap her in the softest baby pink robe, leading her to the living room where you’ve set up a cozy little spa station.

you do her skincare routine for her, gently applying each product with careful attention, even massaging her face lightly.

she melts under your touch.

later, you make her favorite meal for lunch, insisting she just sits and watches while you take care of everything. when she tries to help, you playfully swat her hands away.

“nope, not today. just sit there and look pretty as always.”

the rest of the day is spent in full relaxation.

cuddles on the couch with her favorite movie playing, you running your fingers through her hair, gentle forehead kisses whenever you feel like it.

after spending the whole day pampering hyun-ju, you notice how relaxed she is.

soft smiles, glowing skin, the usual tension in her shoulders completely gone.

you know the day isn’t complete just yet.

as the sun starts to set, you take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

“get dressed, baby. we’re going out,”

you say with a teasing grin, watching her tilt her head in curiosity.

“where?”

she asks, eyes lighting up with interest.

you just shake your head.

“you’ll see.”

hyun-ju changes into a cozy but cute outfit.

an oversized sweater with joggers, hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders.

you take your time admiring her before leading her outside, the evening air crisp but not too cold.

the drive is peaceful, your hand resting on her thigh as you hum along to the soft music playing through the speakers.

she still doesn’t know where you’re taking her, but the moment you pull up in front of the small, family-run korean restaurant she loves, she gasps.

“no way,”

she says, turning to look at you with wide, excited eyes.

“you brought me here?”

you grin, already unbuckling your seatbelt.

“of course i did. you’ve been talking about their kimchi for weeks.”

she practically bounces in her seat before rushing inside, dragging you along with her.

the cozy scent of simmering broths, grilled meat, and fermented spices fills the air the moment you step in.

the owner, an older woman who knows hyun-ju well, immediately beams when she sees her.

“ah, hyun-ju! you brought your partner today?”

the woman asks, sending you a warm, approving smile.

hyun-ju nods eagerly.

"yeah.. its my birthday today and we wanted to come here!"

hyunju beams.

"oh my-- happy birthday sweetheart! you know what, you guys get seated and I'll take care of you. you'll get your free dessert no worries!"

hyun ju and you already scanning the menu even though you both know exactly what she’s going to order.

you just chuckle, letting her take the lead.

when the food arrives, her eyes practically sparkle.

the woman's chopsticks move quickly, picking up a piece of kimchi and popping it into her mouth with a contented sigh.

“this is what heaven tastes like,”

she murmurs, closing her eyes in bliss.

you rest your chin in your palm, just watching her with a fond smile.

“you’re so cute when you eat,”

you tease, earning a playful glare from her.

“stop looking at me like that,”

she mumbles, cheeks turning pink as she takes another bite.

you don’t stop.

instead, you pick up a piece of kimchi yourself and hold it out for her.

she hesitates, glancing around shyly before leaning forward to take it from your chopsticks.

“happy birthday, my love,”

you say softly, watching as she chews happily.

she swallows before reaching across the table to take your hand in hers, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“this is the best birthday ever,”

she murmurs.

later, as you walk out of the restaurant hand in hand, the city lights glowing around you, she leans into your side, her head resting against your shoulder.

“thank you for today,”

she whispers.

you press a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her hand.

“i’d do this for you every day if i could.”

she sighs in contentment, holding onto you a little tighter as you both walk back to the car, full, happy, and completely in love.

at night, you surprise her with a small cake, candles flickering as you sing softly.

she makes a wish, then immediately pulls you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck.

“this is the best birthday i’ve ever had,”

she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

you just hold her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“only the best for you, my love.”

masterlist

[the-winter-spider]

Deserve you | Drabble

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluffffff

A/N: Heres the sweet one. 🫶🏻 debating on doing an angsty one lol Happy valentines day 💞

---

The first thing you notice when you wake up is warmth.

Not just the cozy kind from the blankets wrapped around you, but a warmth that settles deep in your chest, the kind that only comes from Bucky pressed up against your back, his arm draped lazily over your waist. The slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin is hypnotic, anchoring you in the quiet, golden glow of early evening..

You both got back late or was it considered early from a stake out, not that it mattered.

Outside, the world is still and heavy with fresh snow, the soft hush of it settling against the windowsill. The setting sun filtering through the curtains casts everything in a muted glow, turning your shared space into something dreamlike, something sacred.

You shift slightly, and before you can get too far, a strong arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Mmm, don’t move,” Bucky mumbles into your shoulder, his voice thick with sleep, gravelly in a way that makes something in your stomach flip.

A soft laugh escapes your lips as you lace your fingers through his, feeling the contrast of warmth and cool metal against your skin. “You say that every time.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” he grumbles. His lips brush against the nape of your neck, a lazy, featherlight kiss that lingers longer than necessary. His smile is slow and content against your skin.

It’s these moments that make your heart ache in the best way, the way he clings to you in the early hours, the sleepy, half-mumbled words that slip past his lips, the way he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“You’re clingy,” you tease, though you don’t move away. You never do.

His grip tightens just slightly, as if in silent agreement. “’S’only ‘cause I love you.”

You feel those words settle inside you, low and deep, like they belong there. Like they were always meant to. No matter how many times he says it, it still sends a rush of warmth through your chest, still feels like something you’ll never get tired of hearing.

You roll over, finally facing him, and your fingers reach up to smooth the dark strands of hair away from his forehead. He looks utterly at peace like this, eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, but there’s something else there too. Something softer. Something real.

“And I love you Bucky Barnes.”

“Can't believe that, never can.” His lips twitch into the laziest smile, the kind that makes your stomach flip, the kind he only ever gives you. His fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns along your spine, grounding himself in you, in this.

“Stay in bed with me,” he whispers, barely brushing his lips against yours, stealing the words from your mouth before you can say them first.

You pretend to hesitate, to consider it but you both know the answer is already yes.

Because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here, wrapped up in him.

And so, you stay.

His fingers trace gentle, meandering lines across your bare shoulder, his touch so impossibly light that it makes your skin hum. He’s watching you again, really watching you. Like he’s memorizing every detail, like he’s trying to commit you to memory just in case this moment vanishes.

There’s something unspoken in his gaze, something heavy beneath the softness.

Then, barely above a whisper “I never thought I could have this.”

Your breath catches.

The words slip out like a confession, like they’ve been sitting on his tongue for a long time, waiting for the right moment to break free. His fingers still against your skin, as if speaking them aloud makes them real.

“Bucky…”

His hand finds yours beneath the covers, his fingers lacing with yours like he’s afraid to let go. A sharp inhale, the kind that makes his chest rise and fall just a little too quickly.

“I spent so long thinking…” He swallows, eyes flickering downward, like he can’t quite bring himself to look at you when he says it. “Thinking I wasn’t meant for this.”

The words are careful, like they’re fragile, like he’s still afraid they might shatter in his hands.

“I always wanted this but after everything I knew, I felt like I wasn’t supposed to have this.” His voice is quiet but firm, raw in a way that makes your heart twist. “The lifetime with Hydra, the things I did… even after Steve got me out, I still felt like—” He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening. “Like I didn’t deserve anything other than what I’d already been given.”

You shake your head instinctively, already about to argue, but before you can, he squeezes your hand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. “Let me finish.”

There’s no frustration, no sharpness, just quiet determination. He needs to get this out.

“You changed that for me.” His voice wavers just slightly, his fingers coming up to cradle your face, thumb sweeping along your cheekbone with a tenderness that nearly undoes you. “You make me feel like I deserve to be here. That I deserve more than just surviving. That I actually deserve you. That I deserve something even after everything that I—he did.”

His voice cracks, just a little.

And then, softer

“But I would endure all of that again in any lifetime if it meant I got to have this with you.”

The air in your lungs disappears.

A single tear slips down his cheek before he can stop it, and for a moment, he looks almost embarrassed like he’s not used to being this vulnerable, this open. But you reach up before he can turn away, brushing the tear away with your thumb, letting your fingers linger on the rough stubble of his jaw.

“Because you do deserve it, Bucky,” you whisper.

Your voice is steady, but the emotion behind it is anything but.

“You deserve all of this. To be happy. To be loved. To wake up in the morning and not feel like you have to fight to exist.” Your fingers tighten in his hair as you hold him closer. “You deserve to be here. With me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his blue eyes impossibly bright. But he doesn’t look away.

He won’t look away.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

A tear slips free, rolling slowly down the bridge of his nose, and you don’t stop yourself from catching it with your lips as you press the softest, most reverent kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too.”

And then you kiss him.

Slow. Deep.

Like you’re trying to kiss away every dark thought, every lingering doubt, every cruel whisper that ever told him he was unworthy of love.

Bucky sighs into it, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wants to breathe you in, like he wants to carve this moment into eternity.

When you finally break apart, his nose nudges against yours, his lips brushing over your cheek, down to your jaw. His breath is warm against your skin as he murmurs, “I know we have that double date with Sam, but… just stay a little longer.”

You smile, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A small pause. A soft, content sigh.

Then, in that same sleepy, gravelly voice…

“Oh, by the way….Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, pressing another kiss to his lips, just because you can.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bucky.”

[wordsmeetwbb]

Every Loser Needs an Azzi

Word count: 1.3k

Content: fluff, angst (it’s just hurt/comfort okay)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: Short little fluff piece for you on this fine UConn vs South Carolina game eve. If UConn loses in a dramatic fashion tomorrow (which I'm hoping they won't), at least we still have fluffy fanfiction!

________

Paige had played like shit. Worse than it, actually. Sure, everybody had bad games. Paige knows that. But this had been downright embarrassing. She slumps onto a bench in the visitor’s locker room, avoiding the pitying looks from her teammates. Azzi, KK, and Jana had already gone to do media, so no one left in the locker room was brave enough to approach her. Good.

Her mind runs wild as she goes through the motions of showering, changing, and heading out to the bus that’s already waiting outside. She’s moving slowly, too caught up in her thoughts. By the time Paige gets on the bus, trying to ignore the disappointed stares from fans, Azzi is already in a seat, headphones on, looking out the window. Paige plops down in the seat across the aisle, avoiding the look she can feel Azzi giving her. She doesn’t want to see the disappointment coming from her too.

“Paige,” Azzi says. Her voice is soft but somehow still carries the few feet to Paige’s ears, even through the raucous noise of the mostly full bus. Paige slouches further into her seat and pretends not to hear. “Paige,” Azzi tries again, voice more insistent now. Paige can’t help it. She glances up.

Azzi’s staring at her, eyebrows raised but with no judgment on her face. No pity, no disappointment. She pouts a little. “You’re not really gonna make me sit by myself, are you? After a loss?” She complains. Her tone is light but Paige is immediately hit by guilt. A loss that she caused. Paige looks away from the brunette, staring out the window at the fans for only a moment before she can’t bear it, and looks straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of her.

“Paige.” Silence. Paige presses herself into the wall of the bus, pulls her headphones over her ears, tugs her hood up, and tries to hide from Azzi. She’s not proud of it, but she doesn’t want to face reality on this bus.

A body slides into the seat next to her. The scent of vanilla perfume and lavender soap washes over Paige, soothing her just slightly. “You don’t have to talk to me, but you can’t hide from me either,” Azzi says softly, too quiet for the rest of the team in the seats around them to hear. Paige nods, just once, and swallows hard. Azzi gets comfortable in the seat next to her. She’s being careful not to touch Paige, to give her space. All the places where Azzi’s body would usually be pressed into Paige’s are notably cold, but Paige is grateful for the separation.

The bus starts moving. Paige turns her music up as her teammates continue to chatter around her, seemingly unphased by the pathetic loss they had just been handed. She stares out the window and watches fields rush by. Five hours later the sun has set and Paige is finally back in her apartment. Jana and Allie are mercifully quiet, so she escapes to her room quickly, dropping her bag by the door and heading straight for her closet, desperate to just put her pajamas on and go to sleep.

She’s just crawled into bed when there’s a knock at her door. She knows it’s Azzi without asking. She hesitates. Azzi doesn’t open the door, just knocks again.

“Paige? Can I come in?” She calls, voice muffled by the wood between them. Paige wants to say no. Wants to pull the covers over her head and pretend she’s already asleep so she doesn’t have to face her girlfriend. She doesn’t do that though.

“Yeah,” she croaks, voice rough from yelling during the game and not speaking for hours after it. Azzi opens the door slowly, looks at the way Paige is curled up on the bed, and immediately folds the blonde into her arms.

“It’s okay, baby,” Azzi soothes, one hand rubbing up and down Paige’s back as Paige breathes shaky breaths into her neck. A tear slips down Paige’s face, the droplet tracing a hot, wet line down her cheek. She’s thankful Azzi can’t see it.

“One point,” she whispers into Azzi’s skin. “One point, three rebounds, two assists, and five turnovers.” Azzi doesn’t shush her this time, just lets her get the words out. “Five fucking turnovers, Az. Do you know how many points they scored off of my turnovers? Nine. Nine fucking points, and I only scored one to make up for it. I couldn’t get anybody the fucking ball, couldn’t get it through the hoop, couldn’t even keep it in my goddamn hands. I’m supposed to be the best in the nation and look at me. Fucking pathetic.” The words quickly devolve into sobs, tears falling onto Azzi’s shoulder, soaking the fabric of her shirt. Azzi just holds Paige.

At some point, Azzi moves them to lay down, once Paige’s tears have calmed down enough that she isn’t gasping for air. Paige is still wrapped in Azzi’s arms, and she knows that one of them must be falling asleep, prickling painfully where it’s trapped under Paige’s body, but she can’t quite get herself to move.

“That was a bad game,” Azzi says finally. Paige lets out a surprised, wet laugh.

“Gee, thanks for pointing that out, Az. I didn’t notice that I cost us the fucking game until just now when you said that,” she says sarcastically. Paige can hear Azzi’s tentative smile when she replies.

“You cost us the game and you’re still the best player in the nation.” Paige wants to cry again. She turns herself all the way around in Azzi’s embrace so they’re facing each other, scans Azzi’s face, and then lets herself smile a little bit. Not a big smile. Not a particularly happy one. But a small, fragile thing.

“I guess we’ll see when ESPN puts out the next mock draft, right?” She jokes. Relief breaks over Azzi’s face. She reaches a hand up, the one that’s not trapped under Paige’s body, and brushes away the remnants of Paige’s tears.

“It’s okay to have bad games, Paige,” she says gently. “Being Paige Bueckers doesn’t exempt you from that.” Paige swallows around the lump in her throat.

“I know. It's just… knowing that I’m going to have shitty games doesn’t make having one any easier. All those people that come to see us play, see me play- hell, you see those signs, Az! People driving across the fucking country to watch and I just disappointed all of them. They didn’t come to watch that disaster.” Azzi grasps Paige’s face gently but firmly and tilts her so that she has to meet her eyes.

“Honey, you don’t owe anybody a damn thing. Every single person in that arena chose to be there, regardless of how you performed. And yeah, there’s probably somebody who walked out of there feeling disappointed. Who fucking cares? You don’t know them, Paige. They don’t know you. Bad games don’t define your career, and they certainly don’t define you as a person,” Azzi soothes. Paige brings her arms around Azzi and hangs on for dear life.

“How are you so fucking emotionally wise? Who taught you this?” She groans. Azzi laughs.

“I read books and talk about my feelings, Paige. It’s not my fault you can’t read,” she teases. Paige grips Azzi a little harder.

“I can read. Just don’t like it,” she mumbles. Azzi presses a kiss into Paige’s hair.

“Sure, honey. Whatever you say. As long as we can go to sleep now,” Azzi yawns. Paige’s heart stutters as she looks at Azzi.

“Yeah. We can go to sleep now,” she agrees.

As Azzi is drifting off, Paige hugs her tighter. “Thank you,” she whispers. Azzi mumbles something that might be a reply, and although she had just played the worst game of her college career, Paige had never felt more like she had won.

[kxtsukixoxo]

DABI WITH "this doesn't mean I like you" YESYESYES

authors note - BLESS YOUR SOUL THIS IS FUCKING PERFECTTTTTT here’s the valentine’s day event, there’s still prompts available!! ⊹. warnings - nsfw content

dabi and you always had some sort of sense of hatred for each other, to a blind eye, people would say, sure it’s normal, they’re villains they’re supposed to hate everybody right? this was different. the LOV agreed collectively that this wasn’t hatred, this was some sort of vendetta, and as usual, the two of you were arguing in the common room, once again.  

toga and twice left you two to it, agreeing this was just normal and procedure now, but there was something different hinted in dabi’s eyes as you scanned his face, today it was different. 

“cut it out” you spat out as you gritted your teeth, struggling to breathe as dabi’s hand wrapped around your throat, restraining your airways, “such a dirty mouth for a pretty face” dabi muttered as he looked down at you.  “let go of me-“ you tried screaming out, but it was no use. the bastard was stronger than you, and he knew it, he always rubbed it in your face. 

“what’s wrong doll? can’t take what you dish out?” he chuckled as he watched you struggle against his grip “sadistic fuck, you get off of this typa shit don’t you!-“

dabi cut you off, grabbing your waist and flinging you towards the couch, your head hit the armrest as you slid down onto the floor, he didn’t worry if you’d get hurt, your quirk allowed you to feel minimal pain. obviously just making this more fun for him, he knew you’d be fine, so why were you unconscious? 

fuck. 

dabi rushed to your side, “stop playin games  (y/n)”

fuckfuckfuck.

“wake up-“ he tapped your cheek, as an unfamiliar feeling filled him, he felt a croaking shriek bubble up inside his throat, “dammit!” his voice broke. 

“pfffft” you giggled, “who knew you were such a sentive twat?” your stomach ached with laughter as you gasped for air, within seconds you were tossed onto the couch, and pinned down, “don’t ever fuckin’ play with me like that again” he gritted against his teeth, hissing like a venomous snake, “what? you don’t want me to know you have feelings for me or sumn? you’re not good at hiding it staples-“

dabi cut you off. and for a second, you felt like this was a dream, his lips connected with yours, your mouth opened slightly, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and drink you up, finally pulling back, he scanned your face,

“this doesn’t mean i like you” 

“whatever helps you sleep at night you princess” you giggled as he unbuckled your jeans, “woah wait-in the common room-“ dabi chuckled, “scared sweetheart?” 

“someone could walk in-“ 

“then we’ll be quick, just so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head hm?” 

“calling me pretty already-fuck!-“ 

while all that useless chatter was happening, dabi was able to pull his own jeans down, as well as his boxers. tossing your legs over his shoulders, he buried himself inside you. you covered your mouth with the front of your hand as your eyes screwed close,

“nah uh lemme hear you doll”

he yanked your hand off your mouth, as he ran his own through his hair, and in that moment, you swore you were ready to carry his kids. it’s criminal for him to look like this good, all sweaty, stuffing himself inside you, while you looked like a mess gripping the top of the couch, as you whined against his cock.

dabi could get addicted to the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock, practically milking him like a succubus, “fuckin’ vixen bitch” he muttered as he let out a guttural moan, from the depths of his chest. all you could do was whine and shriek, as tears streaked your cheeks “you look so good cryin’ for my dick baby” he tapped your cheek, as kneaded the flesh surrounding your hip, with his other hand. the familiar knot in your stomach formed, ready to come undone” 

“you gonna cum? i can feel you squeezin’ me tight babe” you nodded. there was nothing more you could do, you looked like a dumb slut beneath him, barely able to speak. dabi asked you minor questions, just to hear your slurred speech. 

he enjoyed it, fucking hell he loved it. 

“going all dumb over my dick, cum for me baby” 

that was all you needed, you rocked your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, finally bottoming out ontop of you, he collapsed next to you on the couch, “you open your mouth about this to anybody, and i’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to think for weeks” 

“don’t promise me with a good time you fucktard” you breathed out 

“that filthy fuckin’ mouth of yours.” 

[navybrat817]

hi navy!!! I might be too late, but I was hoping to send in a request for ficlet Friday with Bucky Barnes and the prompt "shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl" and maybe avenger!bucky x avenger!reader if possible??

Thank you so much!!! <333

Hi, nonnie! I hope you like where I took this.

Better Tomorrow

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You get a small injury on a mission and it's part of the job, but Bucky still hates it.

Word Count: Over 950

Warnings: Established relationship, small injury, touch of angst, comfort, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You were careful to keep your breathing even when you got up from the couch. If Bucky heard you hiss or groan in pain, he’d rush to your side and demand to know why you got up. He’d also put you right back where you were sitting and remind you not to move. It was sweet when you thought about it and you adored that he wanted to coddle you for a bit, but there was no need.

A bullet grazed your arm on a mission earlier, a superficial wound. It wasn’t the first time that a mission ended with an injury nor was it a big deal. Deep down you felt that it didn’t make a difference to Bucky how artificial the wound was because you still got hurt. For a second you thought he’d kill the man who shot you, but he held back. And by holding back that bad guy would be spending some time in the hospital before he went to jail.

Tiptoeing toward the kitchen in the hopes that your boyfriend’s heightened hearing wouldn’t detect you, you froze when you spotted him behind the island. His hair down, wearing a white tank top, his shoulders hunched over as he carefully cut up pieces of fruit. The sight put a smile on your face and made your heart turn over.

Bucky was an Avenger. Both of you were. But this? Seeing your man in a domestic environment? It reminded you just how human you both were, that you could be vulnerable beneath the strength.

“You’re not resting,” he said, his eyes flickering to yours. He either heard you or he was that attuned to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been resting and I’m fine,” you smiled. He had already given you something for the pain, your favorite blanket and a book, and you could only sit for so long. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to continue the task with a look of indifference, but you knew better. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that wasn’t fair.

“You’re not, Bucky,” you gently spoke, taking a step forward.

“No, I’m not. Because you got hurt and I couldn’t stop it,” he confessed, letting out a breath and confirming what you thought. It was nothing more than a whisper, but it felt like he screamed it from the depths of his soul.

Your heart broke for him. He took the blame into himself when it wasn’t his fault, punished himself for crimes he didn’t commit. You wouldn’t let him do that tonight. Not when he was a hero and your loving partner.

“We’re Avengers, Bucky. We help people. We may get hurt along the way and it’s a risk we take, but it isn’t your fault if one of us does,” you told him, seeing a swirl of emotions in his blue eyes. “The guy who chose to shoot at me is the one to blame, not you.”

“So why do I feel so terrible?” he whispered.

“Because you love me and you don’t want me in pain. Maybe you even thought for a moment that you’d lose me,” you answered, your heart contracting when he flinched. You understood that fear all too well when it came to him. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

Bucky set the knife down and flexed his fingers, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he rounded the island to get to you. You moved forward on instinct and met him halfway so he could pull you into his arms. You fisted a hand in his tank top and wanted to burrow your face in his broad chest, your heart beating faster as you breathed each other in. He was safe, and so were you.

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t,” he said, his voice tight, careful not to squeeze your arm when he tightened his hold. He would never ask you to stop being an Avenger since he was out there doing the same thing, but injuries reminded him of the tough parts about being a hero.

“You won’t,” you said. You were both strong, capable. If you left the world tomorrow, you’d still be with him because your heart was his. You wouldn’t lose him either.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. It’s so soft yet so passionate that you couldn’t stop the tears from burning behind your eyelids.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, blinking the mist away. “Now will you come and rest with me? Maybe I’ll let you feed me that bowl of fruit.”

“You’d let me do that?” he smiled a little.

“I would,” you smiled back, gasping when he lifted you off your feet and was once again careful not to do anything to your arm. “Show off,” you teased, hanging on with your good arm.

“Just a little,” he said. Picking you up was no sweat to a super soldier. “Thank you,” he added in a whisper. Taking care of you was going to comfort him as much as it comforted you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered back.

You had a feeling that Bucky wouldn’t sleep well tonight. He’d be too busy watching over you and making sure you were okay. If he did sleep there was a chance he’d have nightmares over the gunshot or a past injury. But in the morning he’d feel better knowing that you were really home with him, that you were okay, and that he didn’t lose you.

And if he really wanted to coddle and dote on you a bit longer, you wouldn’t stop him.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi