#but i still can ever fully relax without taking my shoes off

[kerosene-saint]

going through old pictures of me reminded me of the fact that when I was a kid I HATED wearing shoes. I would frequently take off my shoes even if we were outside. and for like an entire year all I would wear (unless it was extremely cold out) was this singular pair of hot pink flip flops

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 8 - ( c.s )

part seven

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- ANGST! it’s just fluff and angst get ready baby

a/n: hellllooooooooo sorry everything takes me fucking forever to write but i am once again back hehe i truly hope you enjoy

despite what many people might think, chris has never been on a proper date in his life. and it’s silly to admit, considering he’s hung out with women in so so many different contexts, but it’s never been formal like that.

he swears he’s never even said the word out loud, as if he was scared of getting infected with real feelings, scared of things getting too serious. so he vowed there would be no flowers, no fancy dinners, no romance. just pure physical connections.

and it stayed that way for so long that he figured it would never change. he’d be a bachelor forever, hopping from girl to girl, showing them no more vulnerability than a simple smile.

then he met you, got to know you, and that mindset disappeared. the fear of being blindsided is still there, nestled somewhere deep in the trenches of his heart.

but to him, you’re worth the potential heartbreak.

so when he shows up at your doorstep with a bouquet of tulips saturday afternoon, it’s a bit of a surprise for the both of you, though not an unwelcome one.

“there’s my pretty girl.” chris smiles, trying desperately to play off his nerves.

my pretty girl. the words ring through your head like a church bell, and even though it’s embarrassing, you’re unable to stop beaming at him.

“what are you doing here?” you ask curiously as he hands the flowers over.

he swallows thickly, shoving his now-freed hands in his pockets. “i wanted to ask you out. on, like, a real date.”

for a moment you think you’ve heard him wrong, or that this must be some kind of prank. in what world would chris sturniolo, infamous playboy, be throwing in the towel and dating? let alone dating you?

but his face remains eerily serious. you can tell he’s a little anxious by the way he’s shuffling his feet, which is endearing. you’re not sure he’s ever done this before, and yet it's the sweetest gesture.

you’re pleasantly shocked by the happiness that’s washing over your body, and as much as you don’t want to give into it, it’s almost impossible not to.

“i think i can definitely squeeze that into my calendar.” you grin.

he visibly relaxes, chuckling slightly at your response as he shakes his head. “next time i’ll schedule it with your secretary.”

the fact that he said next time almost makes you freeze, but you play it off without skipping a beat. your heart is doing backflips, so you clutch the flowers and try to contain it.

“you know the drill, i’m a busy woman.” you shrug playfully.

“be ready by seven?” it’s a question more than a request, because he’s not fully confident that you actually are free.

“yeah,” you nod, stepping closer to give him a kiss of reassurance, “i’ll see you then.”

even feeling your lips on his for a second drives chris absolutely crazy. but there’s plenty of time for that later. right now he’s the perfect gentleman, the guy you deserve.

“oh my god, is it seven already?” ramona checks her watch from the couch, completely in a daze.

she's been religiously rewatching her favorite show, swearing that it inspires her to work on the project she’s been procrastinating. you know she’s too invested for that to be true, but you can’t blame her.

“it’s time indeed.” you nod, slipping your feet into your knee highs.

“oh my gosh, you look so good!” she gushes, popping up from her spot to come wrap you in a hug.

mona barely gives you time to fully zip up your shoes, and you both almost go toppling. you can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, straightening up so you can hold her back.

“jesus, you could’ve given me one more second.” you tease as you pull away.

“sorry, cuteness aggression. i think i’m just too excited for you.” she apologizes, even though she knows you’re not actually angry.

“i’m happy you approve.”

it’s the truth; having both of your roommates’ support means the world to you. especially since you’re falling for him, which is terrifying on its own.

you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this serious about a guy, but it feels so good.

ramona smiles right as the doorbell rings, and you hear cassidy come bounding down the stairs. she looks bewildered, definitely startled awake from her nap, and you can’t help but laugh.

“he’s here! and damn, you look sexy bitch.” she says, joining the two of you by the living room.

you smile as she pushes you forward slightly, shaking your head. “you guys are embarrassing me.”

“payback for the millions of times you’ve done it to us.” cass snaps back playfully.

ramona rolls her eyes, waving you to continue to the door as she tugs her counterpart into the kitchen. “no fighting, go have fun! we love you!”

you let out a breath, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin as you step toward the door. you’re more nervous than you expected to be, but when you pull open the door it’s like you immediately relax.

seeing chris dressed up in a quarter zip and those ripped jeans you adore on him makes your heart swell. the easy-going expression on his face calms your anxiety almost instantly.

you see his own eyes travel down to your exposed legs, covered only by your favorite little black skirt. your off-the-shoulder long sleeve is hidden slightly by your leather jacket, bold makeup accentuating your features.

he feels like he’s suffocating, seeing you look this good knowing it’s all for him. that you’re almost his. he wants to taste you, to ruin your lipgloss just to feel you on his mouth.

“you look…unreal.” he breathes, offering you his hand as you step out to join him on the front step.

“you look pretty great too.” you admit sheepishly, and he gives you a gentle kiss because he can’t help it.

you chuckle under your breath as he pulls away, wiping the gloss from his mouth with your thumb gently. chris just smiles, kissing the pad of your finger briefly before tangling his hand in yours.

“come on, we can’t be late to our first official dinner reservation.” chris urges as he leads you to his car.

he’s embarrassingly giddy as he holds the passenger door open, and you hop inside happily. it’s become one of your favorite spots, riding around next to him with his hand on your thigh.

tonight is no different. his thumb brushes against your skin reassuringly as you hum under your breath, watching chris drive out of the corner of your eye.

he’s just so handsome, especially right now. you’ve always known that, but it’s different. you care about him so much that just looking at his face kind of makes your day, as horrifyingly honest as that is.

you can’t help but smile to yourself, and he pulls into the parking lot of a fancy little restaurant a few moments later.

“i’ve always wanted to try this place, you know. i just never had the right occasion.” you admit as chris helps you back out of the car.

he laughs slightly, hand snaking its way to your waist after he closes the door behind you. “i haven’t either, but you’re the only worthy occasion i can imagine.”

you feel your cheeks heat up slightly. “stop flattering me, i know you just want to get lucky after we’re done.”

“i want a lot more than that, sweetheart.” chris replies truthfully, kind of enjoying letting his mouth run. he’s held his feelings in so much lately that it’s nice to just be honest.

meanwhile you’re desperately trying not to read into his words too much, but at this point it’s hard not to. it seems like he truly does like you, and for the first time in your life you might actually see a future with someone.

once you’re inside, the hostess guides you to a nice booth in the corner, smiling sweetly at chris as she leaves. it doesn’t matter; he’s got his hand in yours, and he’s not looking at anyone besides you as you sit down.

“quit staring at me like that.” you tease, even though you’re only half-joking.

chris tilts his head to the side, smirking at you like he can read your mind. “why, does it make you nervous?”

“no.” you lie, and he just shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you.

your waiter saves you a moment later and you order your drinks; a beer for him and a margarita for you. by the time they’re on the table, you and chris are already deep in your usual random conversation.

it’s impossible to stop looking into his eyes as you chat, your foot bumping against his as you both lean forward towards each other. his fingers dance across the top of your hand, simply because he’s unable to go more than a minute without physical contact, especially when you look so gorgeous.

you’re halfway through the actual meal when you’re finally forced to excuse yourself and use the bathroom, even though you don’t want to leave for even a minute.

“don’t miss me too much.” you joke, sliding out of your side of the booth to give him a quick kiss.

“you know i will.” he smiles as you pull away, watching you head toward the restroom with hearts in his eyes.

looking at yourself in the mirror once you’re done only confirms what you already knew; you’re having the best first date ever. your reflection smiles at you as you wash your hands, so wrapped up in your own head that you barely notice the girl who comes up beside you until she clears her throat.

startled, you glance her direction, only to find that she’s already staring right at you. your stomach bottoms out as your body fills with dread for a reason you’re not yet sure of.

“uh…can i help you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.

she flips her long brown hair over her shoulder, cat-like eyes narrowing just a bit. “so, you’re chris’s little plaything, huh?”

you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it simply won’t go away. “that depends on who’s asking.”

the girl scoffs, turning away from you just a bit so that she can reapply her lipstick in the mirror. “the girl who fucked him three weeks ago when you walked out, that’s who’s asking.”

the acidic taste of bile fills your mouth, and you suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up. your ears ring and the world shrinks, like there’s no air left to breathe.

how the fuck does she even know that? did he talk to her about you? your mind is spiraling out of control, thinking about every single aspect of that fateful morning.

you see her smile sharply at your reaction, satisfied that she’s caught you off guard. it’s impossible to compose yourself, though, because everything is coming crashing down.

“c’mon babe, you thought he really liked you? he didn’t even wait twenty-four hours to get on top of me.”

“he wouldn’t.” you whisper, even though you know that’s not the truth.

this time she actually barks out a laugh, tossing her tube of lipstick back in her bag before turning to face you once more. it doesn’t help that she’s undeniably gorgeous, exactly his type.

“he would, and he did. but if you don’t believe me, just ask him. mention the name daniela and you’ll see for yourself.” she says, fixing her hair one more time before stepping around you to get to the door.

you hear it slam behind her, still rooted in the same place, unable to move. you don’t want to believe it, but she was speaking with such certainty that you’re already convinced.

tears sting your eyes like salt in the wound. your face is no longer filled with the cheerfulness it possessed a few moments ago; now you just look crestfallen. but you won’t give in to your emotions yet, not without confirmation.

you don’t want to confront chris, but you know you have to. so you send your roommates an SOS text to ensure you have a ride home, and then you steel yourself to go back.

you have no idea where daniela went, but it doesn’t matter because you don’t look anywhere but straight ahead as you walk. your whole body is tingling, entirely on the verge of breaking down as you find your way to the table.

not yet, not yet, not yet.

the second his face lights up at your return, you want to crumble. he looks so sweet, the boy you thought had finally changed for you. but then he notes your tight expression, and a frown replaces the grin.

you don’t sit down. you just blink at him for a second, trying to force the words out. you’re silent until he opens his mouth to speak, which finally empowers you enough to cut him off.

“tell me about daniela.”

he straightens uncomfortably at the mention of her name, which already gives you your answer. your heart twists, so much so that it physically hurts inside your chest.

“what?” chris responds, staring at you dumbly.

“did you or did you not sleep with a girl named daniela a day after me?” you ask as calmly as possible, ignoring the fact that your fingernails are digging into the skin of your palm.

his face somehow contorts to look even more grim, and you shake your head slowly. a smile of disbelief makes its way across your lips, which you suppose is better than sobbing.

“yeah, i’m done here.” you snap, yanking your jacket and purse up before turning on your heel.

“please—” his hand circles your wrist and you yank it away without a second thought, not caring if anyone sees.

you just keep walking. everything is completely numb at this point. it doesn’t even feel like you’re in your own body, you’re just moving. the fresh air hits you as you step outside and you inhale the cold, letting it shock you awake a bit.

you unravel your jacket from your arms and put it on as you book it through the parking lot, only to realize that you’re shaking.

the double doors burst open behind you, and you hear him shouting your name, but you still don’t stop. his heavy footsteps increase in pace, and you make it to the sidewalk just outside the restaurant when he finally catches up.

“please, just give me the chance to explain.” chris begs, once again reaching for your hand to try and slow you down.

you stop, only to shove him away from you with a surprising burst of power. he let’s go, but he’s still looking at you desperately as if it’s not black and white.

“there’s nothing to explain. in fact, this is exactly why i fucking hated you so much to begin with, why i was so hesitant to let myself believe that you could actually feel something for anyone besides yourself. you made me look like an idiot, thinking that you’d changed at all.” you lash out, unable to control the rage spilling out of your mouth.

he winces, visibly hurt from your words, but he powers through anyways. “i immediately knew i made a huge mistake, and even though i did it thinking it would make me feel better, it made everything worse. when you left that morning i thought it was over for me, and it hurt in a way that i’ve never felt before because i really fucking care about you.”

you snort, crossing your arms over you chest defensively. “yeah, well, you’re doing a fabulous job at showing it. i mean seriously, chris, do you know how fucking horrible that was? to find out from the girl herself because you couldn’t be bothered to at least be honest? and now you expect me to believe anything you say when in reality your words mean shit.”

chris feels you slipping from his fingers, so quickly that he doesn’t know how to stop it, or how to get you to trust what he’s saying. it’s a type of distress that he’s never been through before, because he’s never gotten attached.

“i know i fucked up, and i know i should’ve never even responded to her in the first place. i don’t have the right to ask you to trust me, but i need you to know that it didn’t mean anything to me.” he pleads, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice now.

you feel your eyes burning again as you meet his gaze, and you’re not sure if it’s hurt or frustration making you cry.

“it means something to me. i put my faith in you enough to go all the way, to let my guard down this past month and admit to myself that i do have feelings for you. and now i look just as stupid as everyone told me i would, even though i really did trust you so much. i thought things were different, that you wouldn’t dare do that to me.” you’re choking on your tears as you speak, and all he wants to do is reach out and wipe them away but he can’t.

you take a step back, almost instinctively. “but you did, and now it’s over.”

chris feels his whole world stop for a second. he takes in every inch of your heartbroken face; eyes wide and red, tears streaking down your cheeks as you hold yourself in your own arms.

he hates himself so much, more than he ever has in his life, for destroying things with the only person that matters. especially on a night that was supposed to be so special.

“i’m begging you not to do this. i’m so, so sorry that i ruined your confidence in me, but it’s only ever been you. you live in my thoughts, in my dreams, in every single goddamn place i go. and it took me way too long to say it, but i want to be with you so badly that it kills me. you know this is real, and i will do anything to prove it to you.” he takes a step closer, but you move away and put your hand up as a warning.

it’s everything you’ve been wanting him to tell you, but it’s too late. you don’t know how to forgive him yet, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to forget.

“i can’t, chris. i just…i don’t know anymore.” you sound so defeated, but you don’t care.

by the grace of god, your friends pull up at the exact right moment to save you. cass throws her hazards on and stops the car, glaring bullets at him through the glass as she waits for you to get in.

you’re done talking for now, and chris recognizes that. there’s nothing he can do or say to take it back, and as much as he wants to keep trying, it’ll only push you even further. so he nods his head once solemnly, vision beginning to blur as he takes all of you in one last time.

you’re the girl of his dreams, and he’s absolutely fucked it.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he repeats as you pile into the backseat, unable to conjure up any words besides those ones.

it registers in your head, but you don’t respond. you can’t even look at him anymore, because it’s too hard to think about what could have been. so you close the door hard, determined to shut him out of your life for good this time.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi

[casuallyimagining]

What We Have Now

vernon x reader

summary: vernon's world has ended. in more ways than one. genre: angst with a happy ending word count: 1,675 warnings: explosions, gun fire, the end of the world notes: inspo taken from 'ima - even if the world ends tomorrow'

this is my first svt fic! I hope you enjoy!

Everything is in chaos. The sirens had started around 2am, and they haven’t stopped, a loud, piercing wail that gets drowned out only once in a while by the explosions that echo off the surrounding mountains. There’s a car on fire in the street, and even though everyone’s running, they avoid it, the smell of gasoline and smoke too strong. There are men in heavy, reflective uniforms trying to quell the chaos even slightly gesturing with those light sticks that he’d only ever seen at the airport, but the explosions and the sharp rat-tat-tat of gunfire in the distance makes it difficult, and the crowds ignore the men and their lights and run.

Vernon’s no exception, moving as quickly as he dares without getting separated. He’s got a vice-grip on your hand, not willing to let you get away from him for even a second. He’s still in his pajamas–when the sirens had started, he’d been in a dead sleep, arms wrapped tightly around you–and you’d really only had the chance to slip on jackets and shoes before your building’s security was pounding on the door and urging you to evacuate.

He’s a little grateful for your hand, if he’s honest. It grounds him, keeps him from panicking, gives him something to focus on other than the world crashing down around you.

He takes a second to look over at you when the crowd gets thicker. The running is over, thank god, but everything has become so much more dense as the streets converge and everyone who is evacuating from this part of the city gathers in one area. It’s hard to tell that, just 20 minutes ago, you were sound asleep. Your eyes are wide, alert, observing your surroundings, checking for opportunities to thread your way forward through the crowd. It’s strange, but even now, he thinks you’re beautiful. There’s a calmness to your urgency, pushing yourself up onto your toes to try to see around the man in front of you., self-preservation–for you and for him–taking over.

The shelter is close. Just a couple more blocks, and then you’ll be there, safe, and Vernon can finally relax. There’s a sickening tension that permeates the air. Everyone is scared, no one knows what’s going on, not really. Sure, they’d been warning about this for a few months now, but warnings and drills don’t fully prepare you for the sheer terror that comes with the end of the world. 

You catch his eye, squeezing his hand in a way that provides some comfort in all the chaos, and you nod toward an opening in the people that’s just off to his left. You don’t dare say anything lest anyone else get the same idea, but Vernon nods and together, you make your move. 

A flash of light pulls your attention, the explosion much closer this time, before an ear-splitting boom rattles the ground beneath his feet. It’s loud enough that he can feel it in his teeth, and his ears immediately begin to ring. Around him, the crowd startles into action, and someone bumps into him, hard, hard enough to force him forward into the man in front of him that you’d been trying so hard to maneuver around. And suddenly, his tether to you is broken.

Immediately, Vernon freezes in place and holds his ground as people push and shove and try to move around him. He can see you, mere feet away, but the more the crowd moves, the further you get. He fights to get to you, every step a battle against the tides, but he does manage to get a few steps in.

Where’d you go?

He’d looked down only briefly–a glance, at most–to see what he was stepping on and to make sure it wasn’t someone that had fallen, but that’s all it took. You’re gone, completely, entirely gone. And Vernon’s world grinds to a halt. Frantically, he searches. Maybe you’d been swept forward with the crowd? Maybe back? No, there’s no trace of you. You hadn’t fallen, had you? It would be so easy to be trampled in a situation like this. 

He tries to move forward, tries to get to where you were to check. Maybe he can help you. But someone grabs his arm, hard. Vernon turns, tries to shake off the hand that’s clutching his bicep.

“But my-” He tries to tell the man–one of the ones in uniform, directing people where to go–that you’re missing, that he needs to find you before something terrible happens.

“Everyone’s going to the same place, son,” the man says. And there’s a hint of sympathy in his voice that Vernon hates the implications of.

Firmly, the man guides Vernon back in the direction of the shelter. He watches the spot he’d last seen you until he absolutely can’t anymore, and even then, he scans the crowd for a hint of you, a glimpse of your hair, anything.

Somehow, in the blocks between where he lost you and the door to the shelter, he manages to convince himself that you’ll be there waiting for him. And when you aren’t immediately findable inside, he tells himself that you’ll find him again soon enough. As the explosions continue into the morning, as the sounds of planes overhead intensify and the gunfire gets louder and closer, he’s barely holding it together, but he holds out hope that you’ll straggle in, straight into his arms.

Weeks pass. The fighting moves away from the city, but not far enough that they close the shelters. The immediate danger is gone, but the threat remains. And still, Vernon searches. Your apartment had been destroyed in the first few days, but even that’s at the back of his mind. He just wants to find you, to know you’re safe. 

With the apartment gone, the shelter becomes his base of operations. He’s become an early riser, leaving with the workers trying to clean up the city. He has a different mission, though. First stop is always the shelter downtown. The city officials who work there love to gossip, and they know more about where unofficial shelters have popped up than anyone. Then, he makes the rounds over to the west side, then south to that shelter to check what some of the residents have been calling the Classifieds–posters hanging up on the shelter wall describing missing persons (and anyone who was discovered in the rubble, but Vernon tries not to think about that). By mid-day, he’s made his way back downtown to the park. It’s nice, what they’ve created there, despite everything. A few of the celebrity chefs in the city have taken over a park downtown, and they and their staff cook for everyone they can. It’s become a sort of unofficial shelter, with new tents springing up almost daily and a whole wall filled with post-its and posters taped up by other searchers, looking for family, friends, lovers.

Today, whatever the chefs are cooking smells delicious, but he doesn’t get in line. He almost never does. He’s just here for the notes. At this point, there really aren’t many new ones. The wall is outside, and it’s been exposed to the weather, so many of the colors are fading, the ink starting to run. He’s convinced that he’s read them all, but he checks them anyway. He wants to make sure he’s seen them all. It’s been thundering all day, and he knows that any moment, the sky could open up.

That’s when he spots it, the scrap of paper peeking out from under a bright pink note. The paper is plain, written in thin pen. Based on the way its edges have curled and the ink has ran, it’s been here a while, maybe even the whole time. But gosh, if he squints, he can maybe see how the first smudged block of characters looks like his name.

Carefully, reverently, he pulls it from the wall. It’s hard to read, but he makes out just enough. It’s been weeks since he’s had this much hope, and he doesn’t want to squander it. The note is old, he isn’t sure how old, but it’s old enough for him to know that there’s a chance he’s too late. But that just makes him move faster.

The rain starts just after he leaves the park, and by the time he makes it to the little camp by the river, he’s soaked. The rain is cold, and there’s a wind that makes it worse, but he ducks his head and trudges forward. He approaches the first person he sees, an older man huddling under an awning on one of the tents. 

“Sir?” he starts softly, and it startles the man. Immediately, he apologizes, bowing deeply for the intrusion. “Have you seen-?”

But he doesn’t get any further. There’s a soft gasp off to his left, something that sounds a lot like his name, and though he’s scared–fucking terrified–to look, he turns. Vernon’s world grinds to a halt. It’s no longer raining. All of the bullshit, everything from the past few weeks, it’s all gone. Because like some miracle, or some cheesy movie, you’re there. Right there. And then he blinks, and you’re crashing into him, and it’s all he can do to stay standing as he holds you.

“I’ve been looking everywhere,” you say. And maybe there’s a hint of playful scolding in your voice, but it’s drowned out by relief. He’ll ask later about what you mean, about where you’ve been, about what happened. But for now, you press yourself against him, face buried in his neck, and mumble, “You’re drenched.” But you make no effort to move, just hold him a little tighter.

Vernon has no idea how long he stands there, holding you like his life depends on it. Eventually, though, you offer a soft, “Did you hear about the apartment?”

He hums. It’s a shame. But honestly? He doesn’t care. He’d lose it all. As long as he doesn’t lose you again. He’d endure it all.

what do we think? I hope you liked it! this is my first fic for svt and vernon, and tbh I'm a little nervous! let me know your thoughts, I'm so curious to hear 💙

[underoospeterparker]

peter sutherland request!! you mention a creepy man encounter and he insists on teaching you self defense techniques but it turns into cuddly wrestling

hi anon - i turned this into a hurt/comfort fic bc i recently experienced a situation similar to this, less traumatic but the basics are the same. i didn’t do the self defense part bc i didn’t see it when writing; but if you want me to write the other part of the req in another fic let me know ⋆˙⟡♡

“Peter?” you called, taking off your shoes as you entered through the doorway. You were still shaking a bit from your encounter with this old man that creeped you out. It made you feel really uncomfortable, and you were jumpy the whole way home.  

“Hi, sweetheart,” your boyfriend popped out from behind a wall. he smiled at you gently, then peppered a kiss onto your lips. You managed a small smile, but Peter noticed your discomfort. “What happened?”

You shrugged off his worry, walking past him to put your bag onto the sofa. “Nothing,” you said, lying through your teeth. You hoped he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your voice.

Peter was too perceptive, making his way to you in a mere second. He cupped your face, searching your tear-filled eyes with only comfort and love. “Please tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he murmured, fingers lightly stroking your cheek. 

Your teary eyes spilled over, and Peter was quick to catch them, wiping them away with a stroke of his thumb. His eyes softened, and he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped around you tightly. “Oh, baby,” he said, chin propped on top of your head. “Shhh, it’s okay,” He continued, stroking your hair. “You can cry.”

You sobbed into his sweater, whole body shaking in his arms. “Was so scared, Pete,” you cried softly.  

His body tensed as the words left your mouth. Shoulders tightening, he asked you gently, “Why were you scared?” You hesitated to speak, so he added, “it’s okay, promise.”

You spilled. “I was on the train back, ‘n there was this old guy. I noticed him staring at me early on, so I put on my earphones and pretended to scroll on my phone.” Your boyfriend nodded, listening intently. “But he kept staring and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take a picture of me.” Your voice started to wobble again, but you kept going. “Then when I got off at our stop, he got off too, and he was following me for a while, so I kept wandering around until he got lost.” You started sobbing. “I wanted to call you, but I was scared he would catch up while I was distracted, and-”

Peter shushed you lightly, finger pressed to your lips. “I’m so sorry, honey." His voice was heavy with concern. “That must have been terrifying.” He pulled away slightly to look at you, then continued. “But you did the right thing by being cautious.”

You nodded, sniffling quietly. “I don’t know, I just feel really violated, you know?”

He pulled you closer to him again. “I know, baby. ‘m here for you, and you know you’re always safe with me.”

You stayed in his arms, comforted by your boyfriend’s soothing presence and sweet nothings that he murmured into your ear until you were fully relaxed against his body. Later, you said, “thank you. I don’t know what i would ever do without you.”

“I do,” he whispered. “You’ll always be okay, because you’re my strong girl. But I’ll always be here, just in case.”

You smiled at him, grateful that he was here with you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s just focus on taking care of you right now, okay?”

You spent the rest of the night cuddled up to your boyfriend, watching your favorite movie and forgetting about the events earlier. 

You fell asleep in his arms, and Peter tucked the blanket around you, smiling at your sleeping figure. Whatever happened, Peter would always be there to take care of you. 

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 22 - Tear me to pieces

This fic was inspired heavily by this song

“Shinsou, with me,” Aizawa’s voice drawls out as soon as Hitoshi steps into the hallway and considering that he’s supposed to meet Aizawa at the gym, this is worrying.

Worrying enough that he follows along after him without asking questions, even though they burn under his skin with every step they take farther away from the gym and closer to the dorm of Class 1-A.

Hitoshi thinks that maybe he should be excited, because this could mean something but they talked about his transfer just yesterday and Aizawa made it clear that it was still too soon for that so all that’s really happening is that dread curls in Hitoshi’s stomach.

Something isn’t right here.

Aizawa is even more quiet than he normally is, and in a way that sets Hitoshi on edge, so by the time they moved past the common area of the dorm—catching everyone’s stares and not helping with the situation at all—Hitoshi’s hands are trembling.

Aizawa still doesn’t stop though and brings them up to the very top of the building, where the teachers usually live and simply marches them right into an apartment.

“We’re back,” he calls out and Hitoshi can hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen.

“Welcome home!” a pleasant voice calls out, a voice Hitoshi thinks he should recognise and then a head is being poked out, effortlessly catching his attention. “We?” It takes the other man a moment to see Hitoshi but then his eyebrows rise very high. “Oh, Shinsou. What are you doing here?”

Hitoshi awkwardly shrugs; it’s clear the other man recognises him, but Hitoshi can’t say the same. It isn’t until he steps fully out of the kitchen that Hitoshi sees the hero costume he’s still wearing and even though the ridiculous hairstyle and the orange signature shades are missing, things fall into place.

“No clue, Mic-sensei,” he whispers out because Aizawa still hasn’t explained anything to him yet, though now the worry sits deep.

Aizawa clearly just brought him to his personal home and going by the look on Mic-sensei’s face, he didn’t inform him about that beforehand.

So this can only spell trouble.

“Shou?” Mic-sensei asks, shooting Hitoshi a wobbly grin before he follows after Aizawa, who has ventured deeper into the apartment.

Hitoshi stays right where he is, unsure and uncertain and completely out of his depth and it’s not actually like Aizawa invited him in.

“What’s going on?” Mic-sensei’s voice rings out from somewhere but Hitoshi can’t hear a reply if there is any, and instead Mic-sensei’s head comes back. “Shinsou, you can relax, okay. Just—come here, I think Shou is going to explain. Also, I don’t know if I ever introduced myself properly, but my name is Yamada Hizashi, so please, no sensei nonsense in here.”

“Sure,” Hitoshi mutters, carefully taking off his shoes and lining them properly up before he goes to where the two adults have vanished.

Both look at him with expectant gazes when he comes into the room and immediately Hitoshi shrinks in on himself.

This is—dangerous, he suddenly realises. They are still at school, but this is their personal home and that means Hitoshi no longer knows the rules to any of this.

“Tsukauchi called me,” Aizawa finally says, even though that means nothing to Hitoshi and Yamada seems to realise that.

“He’s a detective we’re acquainted with,” he explains and now Hitoshi feels sick.

“I didn’t do anything,” he forces himself to say even though it’s going to be futile.

If the detective called with a crime he supposedly committed, there’s no way for Hitoshi to get out of that. No one is going to believe him, not with his quirk.

“Of course you didn’t,” Yamada immediately says, though he turns his gaze back on Aizawa. “Would it kill you to explain things in a timely manner? Seriously, Shou, can’t you see we’re both confused and worried?”

“One of your foster siblings contacted the police and got an investigation into your current foster parents going,” Aizawa finally says and Hitoshi sways where he stands, the relief of hearing that so stark for a moment that he doesn’t register anything else.

And then reality sets in.

“I see,” he gives back forcing his voice to be steady, and forcing everything else down, down, down. “What does that have to do with me being here?”

Hitoshi still doesn’t understand that part. The Fujiwara’s were careful never to hurt him directly, so he doesn’t get why he’s here and not back at the house.

“There’s a case being build. Tsukauchi informed me that there was definite proof of abuse and neglect. Your foster family is being interrogated as we speak and so you can’t go back there.”

“But—” Hitoshi starts and then doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

He has to go back. It’s the only place that will take him and if he can’t be there then he’ll have to move to a different city, his social worker made that very clear. And it’s not as if the Fujiwara’s ever hit him; they’ve been careful because he’s attending U.A. and they didn’t want any attention on them, so it makes no sense for Hitoshi to be here.

His foster siblings, he can understand; they always bore the anger of his foster parents, they were always the ones that suffered when Hitoshi broke one of their arbitrary rules, so it makes sense that they are out.

Hitoshi hopes they are all out.

“So all of my foster siblings have been taken away,” Hitoshi says, careful not to make it a question because this is Aizawa’s and Yamada’s personal home.

The rules here surely are different than they are in the classroom or the gym.

“Yes.”

Yamada looks between Aizawa and him and he seems distinctly uncomfortable with the situation. Hitoshi hates that he’s the reason for that, that he put that look on the face of a teacher he likes and he wonders when this can be all over.

“And I’m going to go back,” Hitoshi goes on, because it’s not as if there’s any other choice.

The Fujiwara’s never hit him; there’s no reason for him to be here.

“Shinsou, as long as the investigation isn’t closed, you’re not going back there. In fact, with what Tsukauchi told me so far, your foster parents are going to get their license revoked at the very least but they are facing possible jail time.”

Hitoshi opens and closes his mouth several times because none of this makes sense. He can’t simply not go back. He has to go back, because otherwise he’ll lose his spot at U.A.. Otherwise there is nowhere else for him to go.

He jumps when someone knocks at the front door before he can find any meaningful words and Aizawa is up in a second, making Hitoshi flinch again. Yamada seems to notice, because he furrows his brown but he doesn’t say anything, at least not until Aizawa and the visitor come back.

“Tsukauchi,” Yamada greets the man and Hitoshi blinks, because why would the detective come for a house visit.

It’s possible Hitoshi has caused more problems than he realised and that never bodes too well for him.

“Yamada, Shinsou,” Tsukauchi greets them with a nod and sits down when Aizawa ushers him to do so. “Shinsou, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions I need to ask regarding the accusations brought up against your foster parents,” Tsukauchi says without beating around the bush and Hitoshi thinks that this might be good.

Like this people will realise that the Fujiwara’s have never done anything to him and then he’ll be allowed to go back.

He ignores the swirling pit in his stomach and simply nods.

“Does that really have to be now?” Yamada asks, one hand brushing against Hitoshi’s arm. “Don’t you think this can wait a few days?”

“It’s not the real statement he will have to give, I’ll need you to come in for that. This is just to confirm that there is something we need to investigate.”

“I thought his foster siblings already got that ball rolling,” Aizawa now chimes in and Tsukauchi grimaces.

“They did, but—”

“It’s my fault,” Hitoshi blurts out, because that what this is. The detective is here to determine just how much of this is his fault.

Well, Hitoshi can spare him that work and simply answer that for him. All of it is his fault.

“Before you say anything else, I should inform you that my quirk is ‘Lie detector’. Whatever verbal response you direct at me will trigger it and I’ll be able to tell if it’s the truth or a lie. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Hitoshi firmly says, because this is good. This can help him. It will make them see that Hitoshi wasn’t abused, that in fact it was all his fault to begin with and then he can go back.

He decides not to think about why that thought almost makes him throw up.

“Okay then. What do you mean when you say it’s your fault?” Tsukauchi asks, taking out a notebook and looking expectantly at Hitoshi.

Everyone is looking expectantly at Hitoshi and his skin crawls with it.

“They got hurt because of me.”

“Truth. Did you hit them?”

“No, but it’s my fault.” It’s always his fault, after all.

“Truth,” Tsukauchi says with a frown. “How can it be your fault if you never hit them?”

“I messed up,” Hitoshi admits. “I messed up and they had to pay for it. They got hurt because I’m not good enough.”

There used to be a time when those words would have tasted like ash on his tongue but now Hitoshi knows that they are the truth. He’s not good enough. In fact, he’s the worst, because he makes sure his foster siblings get hurt all the time, simply because he can’t even stick to the rules laid out for him.

And Fujiwara is right; it doesn’t matter that the rules keep changing. He should be able to predict that now, to sense their intent, so he can be good. But he’s only ever bad and his siblings have to pay the price for it.

“Truth,” Tsukauchi mutters with a frown. “Did your foster parents ever hurt you?”

“No,” Hitoshi immediately gives back but it feels like a lie.

It must register as a lie, too, because Tsukauchi’s eye twitches.

“That’s not the truth,” he carefully gives back, “but also not really a lie. Let me rephrase then. Did your foster parents ever physically hurt you?”

“No,” Hitoshi more firmly says, because that is the one thing they have never done.

They hurt the other kids because they know they can’t touch Hitoshi; they are afraid the Pro Heroes at the school will notice visible signs of physical abuse and not overlook them like so many different teachers did in the past, so the Fujiwara’s had to get creative.

“Truth. Have they ever hurt you emotionally? Verbally?”

Hitoshi opens his mouth to say ‘No’ again, because what does that even matter, but the word won’t come out. He can’t bring himself to say it, doesn’t know where his voice went, and so he simply shakes his head.

“I need a verbal answer for that, Shinsou,” Tsukauchi gently reminds him and Hitoshi’s eyes burn.

“No,” he forces out and knows what Tsukauchi’s assessment will be without needing to hear him say it.

“Lie. Shinsou, I’m here to help. You just have to tell me the truth and I promise you I’ll help.”

Hitoshi’s hands shake again, so he curls them into fists, lets his nail bite deeply into his flesh and it helps to ground him, at least for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter. They never hit me so you’ll have to let me go back.”

“Shinsou, you’re not going back there. We have removed all foster kids from their care and that includes you.”

It feels as if someone ripped out the ground from underneath his feet and Hitoshi is falling, falling, falling. His stomach swoops dangerously and for a second he’s convinced he’s going to throw up. There’s a ringing in his ears and his skin feels clammy and the entire room might be spinning around him.

He closes his eyes, hoping to make it all go away, because it feels as if he’s being torn to pieces and this cannot be real.

There’s nothing for him anymore, not with this placement lost.

“Shinsou, I need you to breathe,” a voice filters through suddenly and Hitoshi jumps. “Deep breaths, think you can do that for me?”

Static is the only thing he hears for a long moment after that, before the sounds of someone taking in exaggerated breaths makes it through and it takes him another eternity before he can match his own breaths to that.

By the time Hitoshi comes back to himself he feels weak and disgusting and he wants to curl up and crawl into a hole to die.

But there’s a warm weight on his arm keeping him tethered to the present and it takes him a moment too long to understand that it’s Yamada who is now sitting next to him.

Hitoshi jerks away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters out when he notices how Yamada’s face falls but he catches himself quickly and gives him a brief smile before he moves away from Hitoshi.

“I’m really sorry about this, but I have a few more questions,” Tsukauchi’s voice rings out and Hitoshi forces himself to look back at him.

“Does that have to be now?” Aizawa asks, clearly fed up with the entire situation and Hitoshi wonders why they are even doing this here in the first place.

Surely there have to be conference rooms at school they could have used.

“I am afraid so,” Tsukauchi almost apologetically says and then turns back towards Hitoshi. “Have they been neglectful towards you? Has there always been enough food and money, were you able to live in a clean environment?”

“No,” Hitoshi whispers and he doesn’t even know which of the questions he’s answering anymore.

Tsukauchi gives him a wry smile, so he mustn’t know either.

“Okay, fair,” he huffs out. “Have they been neglectful? Please keep my previous examples in mind and answer accordingly.”

Hitoshi doesn’t want to do this anymore, he thinks, and curls up on himself. There has never been enough food, at least not for him. He gets to eat what the other kids don’t want and that’s not a whole lot to begin with. Hitoshi never even had any money so he doesn’t know how to answer that, except that he thinks the Fujiwara’s weren’t hurting for money. And a clean environment—

“I want to go back,” Hitoshi says, because he has to, he has to.

It doesn’t matter what’s going on here, it doesn’t matter that this man can tell if he tells the truth or not, it doesn’t matter that his foster siblings were brave enough to report the Fujiwara’s.

It won’t change a thing for Hitoshi; he’ll be place with another family, one that might be worse, one that is too far away to attend U.A., one that cares even less about him. And it will happen, too, because the police might believe his foster siblings and a judge might rule in their favour or whatever, but as soon as they see what Hitoshi’s quirk is, it’ll all be his fault anyway.

“That’s a lie,” Tsukauchi gently says and Hitoshi’s eyes burn.

“I have to go back,” he says, doesn’t understand why that makes a difference; it has never mattered if the things he wants to do and the things he has to do are the same or not.

“Truth. But you won’t. I’m sorry I had to ask all these questions, I know it wasn’t easy for you, but thank you. Eraser, Mic, I’ll be in touch. He will have to give a more thorough statement at a later date but until then I think he should rest some.”

“Sure,” Aizawa says, clearly indifferent to any of this and Hitoshi only barely notices him leading the detective out.

“Shinsou, are you okay?” Yamada softly asks from the side and Hitoshi jerks his head around.

“I have to go,” he says and before Yamada can say anything to that, Hitoshi gets up.

He just has to get his shoes and then he can be out of here. If he makes it back to the house before the Fujiwara’s get there he might be able to mitigate some of the damage.

“Sit down, you’re not going anywhere,” Aizawa’s voice rings out and as if Hitoshi’s strings were cut he slumps back down onto the couch.

“Shou, for fuck’s sake, would it kill you to be a bit more gentle?” Yamada snaps at him and Hitoshi’s body locks up.

That tone of voice never bodes well for him, but he was told to sit and now he can’t even make a run for it.

“Shinsou, I apologise,” Yamada then softly directs at him and Hitoshi’s head spins. “Shouta is not very good with being comforting, though we are working on it. What he meant to say is that you’re going to stay here, for now. Is that okay with you?”

It’s not; none of this is okay with Hitoshi. But he can’t say that, can’t ask what exactly Yamada means and so the only thing he can do is look between Aizawa and Yamada.

Aizawa wears his usual expression, complete indifference, and Yamada seems ready to cry, which is probably Hitoshi’s fault, not that he could ever know why.

Hitoshi has been through enough foster homes to know that they are going to pull the ‘good parent, bad parent’ shtick on him and he wonders what will hurt more: Aizawa’s fists or Yamada’s words but he guesses he’s about to find out if he has to stay here.

It would just be his luck to be thrown into a new kind of hell when he had just barely figured out the rules to the last one.

Hitoshi is already exhausted down to the bones, but he nods.

There is nothing else he can do.

I know this doesn't seem all too happy, but fret not! Tomorrows fic is a direct continuation of this!

Begin again

[ozwriterchick]

No more...

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes; Fem Reader; Sam Wilson

Content warning: miscommunication; leaving a relationship; talk of pregnancy; implied sexy time; If I've missed anything let me know

Summary: Bucky promises no more missions

WC: approx 2890 words

Dividers/Graphics by @firefly-in-darkness

Masterlist

Pulling up outside the home you share with your boyfriend, you are immensely glad that it’s Friday afternoon and that you have a whole weekend to share with him.

It’s been a week from hell at work - as a teacher, you don’t get many of those but this week there’s been multiple teachers out with the flu and a severe lack of emergency teachers, so each of you have had to combine your classes with at least 1 other, making for the normal student-teacher ratios to be blown out so bad that you think tonight you’ll need a bottle of wine, instead of just a glass, to relax.

You unlock the front door, put your coat in the coat closet, toe-off your shoes and put your bag on the hall table.  You’ll go through the papers you have to grade after dinner.

“Bucky, I’m home.  Where are you?”

You hear his voice from upstairs “Here my love.”

Trudging up the stairs you poke your head into your bedroom but he’s not there “Buck?”

“Mouse, I’m in here.” You giggle at the nickname he gave you early in your friendship, before you got together.  He said it was because you squeaked like a little mouse when you got excited.  Then you got together and he heard what you sounded like when you got really excited and you were nothing like a mouse.  But the name stuck, and it made you happy each time you heard it.

Walking into the spare room, you see his tactical gear laid out on the bed and his duffle bag half packed.

“Mission?” You asked angrily.

“Yeah, Sam called me earlier and said they needed my expertise on this one.”

“James, we agreed that you were done with missions.”

“I know, but this is a serious one Mouse.  We might be able to finally take down Hydra for good.  I can’t sit out on this one, not after everything they did to me for all of those years.”

He walked over and cupped your face with his large hands.  “I promise, this will be the last one.”

“I don’t like this but I kind of understand.  But this has to be the last one, James.  I’m not kidding, I want to start a family with you and I can’t do that if I’m constantly worried that you’re not coming home.”

‘Of course my love, the last one.  No more after this.”

With a heavy sigh you ask “So, when do you leave?”

“First thing in the morning.  Sam’s picking me up at 0600.”

“Then come to bed with me, you can finish that packing later, or in the morning.”

“Ok, let’s go.”

The next morning

You open your eyes and it’s still dark.  The bed beside you is empty but not yet fully cold, so you know your soldier only got out of the bed in the last 10-15 minutes.  He would not dare have left without saying goodbye, so you glance at the clock on the bedside table to reveal it’s approx 5.45am.

Listening carefully you can hear him moving about downstairs so you figure he did a quick finish of packing and moved downstairs so as not to disturb you.

His heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and you knew he was fully dressed in his tactical gear, including the big boots he wore.

He poked his head in the door and you smiled “Morning Soldier”

“Ugh” he groaned “Don’t start something I can’t finish.  Sam will be here in around 10 minutes.”

‘I know, I just wanted you to have something to remember to make you hurry home safely.  I promise, when you get home, we will finish that.  For now, come lay down so we can snuggle for a bit.”

He jumped on the bed beside you and took you in his arms, pressing loving kisses all over your face and neck.

Your arms wound around his neck and you squeezed as tight as you could, knowing that however long this mission took, these hugs and kisses would have to tide you over until his return.  The churning in your stomach at the danger he was about to face was ever present and would not cease until he was safe in your arms once again.

In what seemed like mere seconds, you heard the quiet rap on the door that signalled Sam was here.

“Don’t go” you whispered to him “Please?”

“I have to love, but I’ll be home before you know it.”

He planted one last kiss on your forehead and stood up.  You clung to him like a koala and he just chuckled.   “Mouse, if you don’t let go, I’ll open the door and Sam will see all of this.”

You giggled and reluctantly let go, pulling your robe on and tying it tightly over your naked body.

Grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his, you walked down the stairs with him and stood silently as he opened the front door and greeted Sam.

“Hey lovebirds” Sam said. “Sorry to steal this one away from you, I’ll have him back safe and sound as soon as possible. Let’s go Buck, wheels up in 45 mins”. He walked back to his car and got in ready to go.

Bucky leant his forehead against yours, both of you with your eyes closed, soaking in these last moments together for a while. “I’ll let you know what’s happening when I can.  I’m going to miss you my little Mouse.  I love you, stay safe for me and when I get home, we’ll get started on that family of ours.”

Tears in your eyes, all you could do was nod and press your lips against his.  You feel like you’re being overly dramatic like he’s never coming home but there’s always that possibility so you have to prepare just in case.

“So long my love, not goodbye.  Until we see each other again” you pushed him out the door towards Sam and whatever might happen in the next days or weeks.”

Over the next 10 days, you heard from Bucky twice.  They had to go dark most of the time due to it being Hydra and how easy they always seemed to be able to ascertain what the Avengers were doing, where they were and their plans.

Tony was sure they had a mole on the inside, so this mission was down to only the people who needed to know so in reality it was just Tony, Steve, Sam that knew where they were going and what the plan was beforehand.  Once Sam and Bucky were alone on the Jet, Sam was able to let Bucky know the details.

The last time you heard from him was 4 days ago.  They’d located the Hydra base and were planning their attack.  That was all he could tell you, apart from the fact that he had some cuts and bruises but was otherwise healthy.  He also told you that he’d wouldn’t be able to call you again until they were on the way home, so you weren’t sure exactly when that would be.

The Thursday following, about 12 days after they left, you got a text message from Sam. 

Your mind was racing about what injuries he had, however you managed to calm yourself down, take the rest of your classes that day and head straight to the compound from there.  You’d let your boss know and that you wouldn’t be in tomorrow so they could organise a substitute teacher for your classes.

At the compound

Sam was out the front waiting for you when you arrived.  You stopped the car and just left it where it was and ran up to him.  He gave you a big hug and looked you in the eyes.

“It’s not serious, ok.  I know you didn’t believe me earlier, but he is ok.”

“Then why is he in the medical wing Sam?”

“Well, he broke his arm, so they had to set it to make sure it healed properly.  The last X-ray they did showed it’s almost all healed.”

“Why couldn’t you just say that Sam, I’ve been stressing all afternoon.”

“Well I told you he was ok but yeah, next time I’ll..”

“There isn’t going to be a next time Sam.”

Sam gave you a quizzical look and said “Ok, go see your boy, you know where to go yeah?” You nodded. “Give me your keys, I’ll park your car for you and see you up there.”

You threw your keys at Sam as you ran towards the elevators, heading to the 10th floor, which was the medical wing.

Bruce saw you as you burst through the doors and he pointed towards the room that Buck was in, with a grin on his face.

Pushing the door open, you hesitated, he appeared to be asleep, with a cast on his right arm.  You just stood and watched him for what seemed like forever, then you heard him say ��Don't just stand there mouse, come give me some sugar.”

Laughing, you skipped over to the bed and climbed up to lay next to him. He turned his head and kissed you before opening his eyes and looking into yours.

“No more Mouse..”

Time jump.. 3 months later..

The last 3 months since Bucky came home from his last mission had been bliss.  Work had evened out, with the warmer weather there weren’t as many absences from illness and the end of the school year was approaching.

Bucky’s arm had healed nicely and in record time.  You moved into a larger place and had plans for going away on a vacation for about 3 weeks during the summer holidays to Florida.  The plan was to relax, spend time together, hit the beach and spend a few days at Disney because neither of you had been there before.  You’d also been working hard at starting the family that you both wanted so badly.

A few days after school finished for the year, you had been out doing some grocery shopping, and buying some new things for the Florida vacation.  On your return home, you heard Bucky speaking in a low voice in the sun room out the back of the house.

You put the groceries on the kitchen bench and headed out to see who he was talking to.  He was on the phone and as soon as he saw you, he stopped talking and you heard him say “Mouse is home, I’ll call you back later”

“Hey babe, who was that?”

“I missed you mouse, that was Sam.”

“Oh, what did he want?”

“He wanted to talk to me about a mission.”

“No.”

“Now just listen before you say a flat out no, ok?”

“No Bucky, we agreed, even when you got back from the last mission the first thing you said was no more. “

“I know, but you know how we didn’t eradicate Hydra on the last mission like we’d hoped, this time we can do it.  The plan is solid, they have no idea we’re coming.”

“Wait, you’ve already said yes to this haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I thought you’d be ok with it.  We can rid the world of Hydra, mouse.  I have to go.”

“That’s what you said last time Buck and look where we are now?  I can’t keep doing this.  I love you, but I’ve already told you, I can’t have a family with someone who keeps   putting himself and our family in danger like this.  I know I knew this about you when we got together but I thought we were on the same page about this?”

“We are but..”

“See, Buck, if we are on the same page, there’s no but to it.  Look, I can’t force you not to go, you know how I feel about this, you need to make your decision about what you want, what is most important to you”

With that, you turned away from him and walked slowly away, up the stairs, shutting the bedroom door behind you.

Later that night

Bucky opened the bedroom door, having given you plenty of space.  He lay down on the bed beside you, pulling you tight to his chest and then pushing his finger under your chin to lift your face to his.

“Mouse, don’t cry.  I love you, you know I do, but I feel like I have to do this.  I have to help rid the world of this menace that is Hydra.”

“I know Buck, but you agreed to this without even talking to me, without even considering my thoughts or feelings.  No thought to the fact that we’d agreed, or I thought we had, that you were not doing this any more.”

“I did consider all of that, don’t you want our kids to come into a world without Hydra?”

“But where does it end Buck.  When is it enough.  What if you don’t get rid of Hydra, like last time?  What if another organisation pops up that’s just as bad or worse?  It’s hard enough for me to say goodbye to you each time you go on a mission and have a lump in my throat until I hear from you or you’re home safe.  I am not putting my child through that feeling too.”

“I know Mouse, but I feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“So you’ve made up your mind?”

“Yeah I have.  Don’t be sad Mouse.  It will be ok.”

“When do you leave then?”

“Tomorrow night but I have to go to the compound for briefings about lunchtime tomorrow.”

Bucky stroked your head and back as you burst into tears and sobbed until you felt like you had no tears left.

He’d made up his mind to go and so had you.  Maybe he knew deep down but you were determined that these hours would not be sad, that you’d both have these memories to survive on.

Reaching your face up to his you kissed him.  The two of you spent the whole night making love and holding each other, until you had no more energy left and you fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed.  You went downstairs and found him in the sunroom with a cup of coffee.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving soon?”

“Yeah, I’m heading out once I’ve finished this cup of coffee.  Sit with me please?”

Sitting next to him on the couch, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.  You were sure he could feel the tension in your body, but he didn’t say anything.

Walking him to the door when Sam pulled into the driveway, he leant in to give you a hug and one final kiss before he left.  “So long my love, I love you so much, I’ll see you when I get home.”

Tears in your eyes you kissed him back, saying “Goodbye Buck, come home safe”

He walked towards Sam’s car and yo shut the door before he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks, and you headed to the bedroom.

Over the next 2 weeks Bucky tried to contact you multiple times.  He wasn’t stressed when his first messages went unanswered, but the longer it went in time, the more concerned he became.

The mission was a success in that they finally got rid of Hydra once and for all.  He was excited that he didn’t have to worry about them any more, but his stomach was churning on his way home because he still had not heard from you.

Opening the front door, the house felt eerily still and quiet.  He yelled for you and ran around the house searching but couldn’t find you.

His last stop was the sunroom at the back.  The room you had shared a coffee with him in, the morning he left for this mission.

You weren’t there, but he noticed an envelope on the coffee table, with his name in your writing.  He felt his stomach lurch, hoping you had just left him a note saying that you were at the shops and would be back soon, but deep down he knew what the letter would say.

He pulled the letter out, not noticing another piece of paper float out to the floor when he opened it.

James, By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be far away.  This was not an easy decision for me to make, particularly now, but it was a necessary one.

That last night, I wanted to ask you if there was anything I could say that would change your mind?  It’s because I had something to tell you but I wanted you to stay because you wanted to, because you chose us and our future life and family.

Please don’t try and find me, live your life your way, I don’t want to hold you back from anything you want to do.  I hope you find what you are looking for.

I love you more than life itself and I always will.  Love, Mouse

Bucky hung his head, tears falling to the floor.  It was at that point that he noticed the additional piece of paper that had fallen out of the letter.  He picked it up, turned it over and the tears flowed even harder.

Taglist:@cjand10@angstysebfan @psychictazzy76@lovely-geek @samanthaneedsanap @kentokaze @iheartsebastianstanstuff @yourmumsluke @void-imaginations

[bardoftheshire]

Just a little somethin' I thought up of as these past days going to school has become already gradually harder and it doesn't help that I'm a little ill. Enjoy🤭

Let Me Pamper You

[Lemon (Bullet Train x GN! Reader]

[Summary; After a particularly hard day at work, you return home exhausted. So Lemon being the best husband ever, pampers you for the night.]

[Notes; There are some mentions of taking over the counter drugs for being ill, so if that bothers you I recommend staying away]

[Warnings; None really, this is just pure fluff]

You sigh in frustration as you struggle to untie your shoelace, then finally succeed and take your shoe off, placing it next to the other pairs on the rug next to the door.

You had a particularly hard day at work, and it didn't help that you were a little under the weather as well.

"Y/n, is that you?" You hear your husband call out from the guest room.

"Yeah, I'll be there in jus' a second," You call back to him.

You'd been married to your husband, Lemon, for a few years now.

You knew him during Sixth Form before he had gotten the job he had now. And of course he was much different before. His work was bound to change him regardless, but he was still the same childish guy he's always been no matter what. And you loved him for it.

Once you finally got everything situated, you made your way to find Lemon happily playing with his train model set that took over most of the room.

You stand at the doorway and smile as he continues to put trees and miniature people around the set.

"Y/n, sweetheart, how was work?" Lemon says as he looks up and notices you standing at the doorway.

Suddenly you were brought back to the same terrible mood you were in before.

"I don't wanna particularly talk about it, love. Can't say I had a great day, especially with this bloody cold I've got," You sigh tiredly.

"Mmm, I'm sorry, love. How about I fix you a bath and such. You can relax the rest of the night," Lemon says, putting what he was doing aside to guide you to your guys' shared room.

"You don't have to do that Lem, really I can do it myself. Please get back to what you were doing." You insist, but Lemon keeps walking you to the room, finally sitting you down on the bed.

"You're right, I don't have to, but I want to. So relax and undress while I get that bath running for you and then I'll fix you up a cup of tea and get you your medicine okay? Let me pamper you for the night," Lemon says, walking to the restroom to set up the bath.

You sigh happily to yourself, you had the absolute best husband you could ask for.

Yes, there were some things that weren't so great like when he would leave for days on some missions, coming back with some injuries you needed to tend to. But you didn't bug him about it ever because you knew he was smart enough about things and knew what he was doing.

You undress, throwing your clothes inside of your hamper, walking into the restroom where Lemon was.

"You look gorgeous my love, what kind of tea do you want?" Lemon says, placing a soft kiss to your temple.

"Do we still have that lemon ginger tea? If so can you make me that with some honey?" You ask, submerging your body into the warm, bubbly water.

"Of course, love," Lemon says, walking to the kitchen.

You relax for a few minutes, letting the hot vapors clear your sinuses, and allowing your muscles to relax fully.

Lemon comes in with two teacups and a teapot on a tray, setting it on the flat part of the bath. (What the fuck is it called? You all know what I'm talkin' about, right?)

He leaves the restroom once more, returning faster than the last, this time with cold medicine and acetaminophen.

You groan, recalling the terrible taste of the medicine from the last time you were sick.

"I know it's gross but you have to take it," Lemon urges, pouring it out onto a spoon.

You groan once more, turning your face away like a child.

"The quicker you get better the quicker I can kiss you on your lips without getting sick," Lemon cheekily smirks.

You quickly take the medicine, scrunching your nose up at the foul taste it left in your mouth and throat.

He hands you the acetaminophen and pours you a cup of the tea, you pop the two pills into your mouth and take a gulp of the tea, slightly burning your mouth.

"God that was awful," You groan, submerging yourself back into the tub.

"I thought I brewed that tea perfectly and put the right amount of honey in it," Lemon says, fake hurt in his voice.

"I obviously meant the medicine, love. The tea was wonderful," You giggle.

"Good to know. Let's wash you up now," Lemon chuckles.

He grabs the shampoo as he motions for you to wet your hair. You comply, putting your hair in the warm water, letting it sit in there for a couple seconds to let it properly get wet.

You then pull your head out, looking at Lemon as he squirts some of the shampoo into his hands, putting it onto your hair and gently massaging it in, making sure to get every strand and part of your scalp washed.

Once he finishes, he grabs the bucket next to the bath and fills it with warm water, you put your head back slightly and he pours it over your soapy hair, ridding of all of the soap on your head.

You felt so loved in that moment. He'd put everything aside just for you, just so he could take care of you like this. You couldn't be more happy than you were now in that moment.

Lemon grabs the body soap and your body sponge, putting some of the soap onto the sponge and rubbing it in. He starts washing your body, starting from the top to the bottom. You took a momet to look at him, noticing how his sleeves were rolled up and how he had a little bit of the bubbles on his arms and hands from washing you.

"Alright, do you wanna stay in here a little longer? Maybe I could read that chapter of your book for you?" Lemon asks, finishing up and putting your sponge back in its respected spot.

"That would be amazing, Lem." You say, smiling sweetly at him.

Lemon nods with a grin and goes into your room, returning with your book and his reading glasses on his face as he sits down on the stool.

You relax once more and close your eyes as you listen to him reading the chapter of your book out loud to you, his voice soft and not too loud.

You were so relaxed you could fall asleep right there in the bathtub. You were content and happy. Happy that you had such an amazing husband. You can say it to yourself a million times and it will still baffle you that you were married to the best person ever.

He finishes and you drain your bath, carefully walking out as Lemon wraps you in a warm fluffy towel, drying you off and walking you back into the room.

You sit down on the bed, watching as he pulls out your undergarments and comfortable pajamas from your dresser.

"Will these work for you darling? I tried to get something warm so you don't get any sicker during the night," Lemon says, holding the garments out to you.

"Those are perfect, Lemon. Thank you,"

"Okay, you can put those on and I'll go wash the cups and teapot, I'll be right back my love," Lemon hands you the pajamas and leaves with the tray in his hands.

You dress and dry your hair as much as you could with the towel, then slipping into the covers comfortably.

Lemon returns, changing into his own sleep clothes and turning off the remaining lights, slipping into bed next to you.

"Thank you, Lem." You say, cuddling into his chest as he rubs your back.

"Of course my love." He replies, placing a kiss to your hair.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

[This one took me a little longer to finish up, and I kinda just wanted something short to post but that clearly didn't happen. It took me so long to finish that I now am no longer sick the moment I've posted it. But I do hope you guys enjoyed it. I do notice I've been doing nothing but Lemon fics so far, and I promise I'll finish those requests up hopefully soon, so please just bear with me as I'm really busy.

[magpiehorde]

Growing Affections: Chapter Five

Ray’s house is about what Cas would expect. It’s on the outskirts of the city, just far enough away to be quiet without being too far to be inconvenient. The house is large, it shows his wealth, but it’s warm in the homey way the break and wood brings an earthy feel to it. Stepping in Cas notices the almost sparkling cleanliness and stops in the entryway, feeling like an intruder. She notices the shoe rack and takes off her now filthy tennis shoes, scuffed to hell from the crash. Standing there in her hospital issued scrubs while Ray takes off his jacket and steps around his kitchen she takes in the room. It’s homey in a magazine sort of way, it doesn’t look lived in, but it has accents of personality. He keeps it on the chiller side and she shivers as she creeps farther into the room, inch by inch. 

Ray shrugs on a sweater that had been hanging by the door and pulls open with fridge to look through with a careful eye. 

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” He asks, looking over from the fridge with a raised brow. “Or you aren’t vegan or something.” He adds with a wrinkle to his nose. Cas shakes her head and he turns back to the fridge with a nod to himself. Cas hugs herself tightly to ward off the chill and wanders over to the bag of her effects from the crash sitting on the bench by the table. Putting a hand on the handle she’s interrupted. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Ray calls from his position looking into the freezer. Cas stills her fingers on the zipper and frowns.

“I just want my sweatshirt, it’s a bit cold in here and these scrubs are thin as shit.” She says and pulls her hand back as he turns around to look at her fully. He adjusts his glasses and gives her a once over with a hum. His lips pull down and he runs a hand down his chin before pulling out his phone. The line is quick to pick up and he turns away as he has talks. 

Cas takes a seat at the table and leans her arms on it as she rests her head across them. It’s hell on her shoulder but she’s tired still and she just wants a little more rest. She’s not adventurous enough to lay down on Ray’s couch and he hasn’t offered a room yet so she’ll take what she can get. His conversation is over soon enough and he looks back over with raised eyebrows. He doesn’t comment on her position and turns away back to whatever he’s decided to cook. 

Ray moves around the kitchen with practiced grace and Cas can tell he’s in his element. His shoulders are more relaxed than she’s ever seen them and he even hums little snatches of tunes as he moves between the counter and stove top. He seems to forget that she’s even there and Cas takes the opportunity to watch him. He’s a good looking man and she hasn’t let herself notice, hasn’t let herself look at him like a person. The smells keep her from falling asleep, waking her when she’s almost dozing with delicious scents that waft over and tantalize. When he sets aside the sauce pan and brings plates over to the table she leans back and sniffs the air like a bloodhound on the trail of a mystery. 

“I made stroganoff, dig in.” He says and waves a hand over the bowls. Cas leans in and eagerly spoons noodles into her bowl, careful to keep all the sauce from spilling. There’s a decanter that Ray takes a healthy pour from and Cas reaches towards it but gets her hand slapped away with a tsk. “You can’t have any, won’t mix well with your medication.” He explains as he takes a sip. Cas scoffs and stirs her noodles, stopping herself from sticking out her tongue like a brat. 

Halfway through dinner there’s a knock at the door and a man Cas has seen a few times at the pub stand in the doorway with a travel bag. He passes the bag silently to Ray and he nods as he turns and closes the door. Ray brings the bag back to the table and drops it at the end closest to Cas, sitting back by his plate and taking another bite. 

“There should be a sweater in there for you, some other clothes too. Enough for a couple days at least.” He says as he looks up. Cas looks down at the bag and then over at Ray. It’s a nice gesture but it also feels a bit controlling. She’s just started having more control over her life, having someone pick all her clothes is a step backwards. She nibbles at her lip and tries to smile but it feels like it falls a bit flat. Ray pulls out his phone and sighs. “Let me show you your room before it gets late, it looks like I have some work to do.” He says as he sets his napkin down and stands up. Cas shuffles off the bench seat and grabs the bag of new clothes. 

Ray leads her around the stairs and up to the second floor. Down the hall to the second door he opens it to a spacious room and ensuite. The room is painted in blues and the bed looks comfortable with a down comforter and fluffy white pillows. The bed looks inviting to Cas’s tired eyes as she wobbles on exhausted feet and fights to stay awake as Ray waves a hand around the room and shows her the ensuite. 

“If you need anything, my room is at the end of the hall. And my study is downstairs.” He explains as he stands at the door. Cas nods and waves him on. He pulls the door shut and Cas groans as she drops the bag and drags herself toward the bed. She wrestles with the covers and rolls herself into a comfortable position, fighting with her arms to find something that isn’t agony. She huffs and closes her eyes, basking in the comfort of the blankets and pillows, the whole bed wraps her in a cloud. She drifts off with a sigh. 

Her dreams are twisted. Gnarled visions of men covered in blood chasing her down a maze of alleys that seem never ending. She falls and trips down a dark pit with hands that reach and grab, tearing at her as she descends. When she lands there are shadows that tower over her, closing in and trapping her in darkness. There’s a loud bang that shatters the darkness and rings in the air.

Looking down Cas sees the puddle of blood spreading below her and gasps as the air gets harder to breathe, falling to her knees. Her hands are covered in the sticky red and it drips from her palms as she tries to rub it off. Grasping her chest she searches for the place where she can feel the pain radiating. Leaking blood her hands meet over her heart and she gasps in small breaths as the world narrows. The shadows circle as her shirt soaks through and her chest rattles with hiccuping gasps. Cas scrambles at the ground and it gives way under her fingers, crumbling dirt. The ground falls out around her and she screams as she falls. 

Cas gasps as she lurches upward and her eyes fly open. Her chest feels tight as she heaves short breaths and looks around the darkened room. It feels stranger in the dark, even more after a nightmare, but after rubbing away the sleep it comes more into focus. Cas sighs and shuffles in the bed to try and get comfortable again but gives up with a grunt. The clock tells her it’s far too early to be awake but she doesn’t think she could go back to sleep at this point. Throwing away the blanket she drags her new bag over and splays it out on the covers. 

There’s a mix of clothes and she’s impressed by the thought put into the choices. There’s a couple outfits worth of choices plus pajamas and a soft sweatshirt that she immediately grabs. Cas decides on a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a tank top, something she’ll hopefully be able to get on by herself. The scrubs are a struggle to try and get off even as oversized as they are, and she gives up with one arm hanging out. She sets aside the new clothes and instead focuses on getting into the sweatshirt, thankful that it zips up. 

Cas creeps to the door and slowly cracks it open. Down the hall she can just make out the outline of Ray’s door and the way it’s hanging a smidge open. Cas slides the door open further and steps out into the hallway, watching her steps for any creaking floorboards. She makes it down the hallway and stairs without incident and sighs in relief when she hits the first floor. The lights are all off but the natural light from the windows gives a dim shadow to the room. 

Without Ray around watching her, Cas takes a closer inspection of the first floor. She steps around the sitting area and kitchen with a careful eye. It’s obvious that Ray takes care of his home and takes great pride in it, his house is curated to his specific tastes. Cas goes to the bookshelf and flicks her eyes across the volumes. There are obvious classics and a few reference volumes that she would expect but what she doesn’t expect are the poetry books. She crouches to the lower shelves where a few volumes have been relegated but the spines show they are well loved. 

Cas picks out a book by Keats and is careful in flipping through the pages. There’s a yellowed book mark left near the center of the book and it seems as good a place as any to start. Curled up in the couch Cas leans towards the window to catch the rays of moonlight that filter in. The poems are lyrical and paint vivid pictures. Cas takes her time to savor them, re-reading passages as she goes. The moon is low and her eyes have gotten tired by the time she’s through most of the book. 

“You could have put on a light.” Ray says from the bottom of the stairs, hands in the pockets of his sweater as he looks her over. Cas fumbles the book in her surprise and sits upright to look over her shoulder at him. She rubs her tired eyes and looks out the window before checking the time. It’s a more reasonable time but it’s still early enough that the sun is just now peeking behind the horizon. Cas replaces the bookmark and sets aside the book, twisting to look at Ray. 

“I didn’t want to wake you, or disturb anything.” Cas explains with a handwave. Ray nods and makes his way towards the kitchen, flicking on the lights on his way. As early as it is he’s still dressed for the office, the only difference is the sweater instead of a suit coat or vest. He looks cozy as he works his espresso machine and pulls down coffee mugs, resting a hip against the counter and running a hand down his chin. He yawns and looks across the room and over her again, his eyes narrowing at the book in her hands. 

“What have you got there then?” He asks with a raised brow. 

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first.” She says as she lifts the book to show the cover. Ray shakes his head as he walks over and plucks the book out of her hand. He flips through the pages and hums as he looks over the poem he lands on. 

“This is one of my favorites, haven’t read it in a minute though. It’s no trouble you reading anything here though. If it wasn’t safe to be read it wouldn’t be out here.” He says before handing her back the book with a grin. “Now, do you want coffee or tea?”

“I’ll take tea. I’ve gotten used to it, it’s been too long since I’ve had coffee. I don’t even remember how I take it.” Cas jokes with a little grin. Ray’s smile widens and he turns back to the stove to put the  kettle on. He goes to a drawer and waves her over before pulling it open. The drawer slides open to reveal rows of teas, loose lead and bagged, varieties she’s never heard of before. “I think I’ll just take earl grey. Thanks.” She decides after a minute of getting overwhelmed by choices. Ray laughs and pulls out a tea bag from the drawer without even looking. He pushes her mug towards her and places her teabag inside before filling it with hot water. Cas fixes her tea with cream and sugar and takes a careful sip under Ray’s watchful eye. She hums and nods her approval and he smiles before fixing his own cup. 

“You didn’t get changed. Did none of the clothes work out?”

“It’s not that. I couldn’t try them, the arm made it impossible to get changed.” Cas explains with a grimace. Ray frowns but nods as he looks her over with an assessing eye. He shifts as he leans against the counter and pulls out his phone. 

“We don’t have all that many women on hand for assistance, all our muscle is men. But I could find someone to come help.”

“Can’t you just help really quick? It’s just the shirt, I can get the pants. it doesn’t need to cause a hassle” Cas says, sighing as she looks away. Ray pauses with his mug almost to his mouth and looks down at Cas with his eyebrows raised. She shuffles under his gaze and huffs. Ray puts his phone back in his pocket and sets his mug on the counter before waving his arm towards the stairs. 

“Of course, happy to help, love.” He says as she moves ahead of him. She glances at him over her shoulder but hurries up the stairs and down the hall. The room feels smaller than it did just earlier this morning with them in it together. Ray stands with hands in his pockets as he waits for her to take the lead. Cas grabs the bag and drags it onto the bed, pulling out the first shirt she finds. She unzips the hoodie and peels it off but feels just as warm without it, heated under Ray’s eyes as she turns to him. He takes both her wrists in his hands, a gentle grip, and pulls her arms upwards slowly. When her arm first pulls and she flinches at the pain he pauses. 

Ray is gentle as he rolls the bottom of her shirt up, his fingers barely touching her skin as they move upwards. He manages to shift the shirt around one arm and then stretched over her head and off the arm and cast. Standing there in just her bra Cas’s stomach flutters as Ray’s hand pauses with her shirt hanging from her hand. His eyes are at her face and he swallows as he blinks hard, struggling to keep his gaze above the invisible border. Cas drops the shirt on the bed and picks up the new one, stretching it over the cast and waiting for Ray’s help. His eyes flick down to the shirt and he takes the distraction with both hands. 

Ray stretches the shirt over her head and across her arm, his fingers skirting across her skin and leaving goosebumps behind. His eyes follow the path of the shirt and pause at each tattoo that he discovers, slowing his progress. When the shirt is tugged down and his hands pull away he clears his throat and takes a step back, adjusting his glasses and squinting as he looks away. 

“Thanks.” Cas says, quiet in the silent room, not quite wanting to break the still air. Ray nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but at her. 

“I’m going to make breakfast, you finish up and get ready. We’re going into the pub today.” He says, nodding to himself before stepping through the doorway. He disappears down the hall and Cas sighs in the quiet of her room. It feels smaller, and her whole body feels more relaxed, like the tension has been let out of the room. She shakes her head at herself and pulls a pair of pants out of the bag. She finishes her morning rituals and wakes herself up as the sun seeps into the room. 

Downstairs Ray is at the stove with a frying pan and it’s sizzling away as the kettle boils on the back burner. His head turns as she rounds the corner and he nods his head and slides her mug across the counter towards her. 

“I freshened it up, should be nice and warm for you.” He says with a grin before turning back to the pan. Cas smiles and takes the mug with both hands and takes a seat at one of the stools at the counter. She likes watching him cook, it’s relaxing watching him move about the space with ease and precision. He looks relaxed, focused totally on what he’s doing. He grabs plates from the cupboard just as the toaster pops up and begins plating the meal. It’s a full breakfast and he serves her healthy portions of everything. It looks good and Cas doesn’t remember the last time she actually made herself breakfast, or had anything besides cereal or the occasional donut. 

They sit together at the counter with their tea and breakfast and Ray slides the morning paper across to her. Cas flips the pages to the puzzle and holds the paper away from herself as she examines it with a hum. 

“Twelve letter word, the difference between wine and vinegar.”

“That’s an interesting one, a bit long. Ferment, no, fermentation.” Ray says as he spreads a pad of butter across his toast. Cas pencils it in and nods with a grin. She taps against the paper and grabs a piece of bacon as she looks across the hints. 

“Five letter word for royalty. Must be queen, that one’s too easy, especially around here.” Cas says as she fills in the blanks and looks for another clue. She scans down the puzzle and taps again. “Seven letter word for country home.”

“Hmm, a specific word for the home? I’m afraid I’m spacing on it.” Ray says as he runs a hand down his chin and looks over her shoulder at the puzzle. Cas shrugs. 

“We’ll come back to it.”

“We’ll get it, but it’s time to head into work. I’m sure boss will have you on light duty, but he wants to see you today.” Ray says as he scoops up her plate and puts both in the dishwasher. Cas sighs but gets up anyways, not having much to get ready since all she has is her wallet and dead phone. She waits as Ray changes out of his sweater and into his suit jacket and coat, settling his tie as he smooths all his layers before grabbing a briefcase waiting by the door. “Away we go.” He says as he opens the door for her and gestures her ahead of him. 

Chapter One:

https://www.tumblr.com/magpiehorde/759463860680982528/growing-affections-chapter-one?source=share

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Hola hola, hermosa!! 💜 May I request a spin with mi Cocodrilo and fem! reader? Thank you for your time, dear! Sending love!!

Hello Hello Mimi Mi Amor!!! 🥰😘, Of course, I can do this for you!! Anything for you my queen!!! Spinning the wheel Sir Croc got First time/losing virginity 🙈 I hope you enjoy bby! Love you!!! 💜

Tw: losing virginity, vaginal penetration

WC:622

Crocodile x Fem Reader: Who Do You Belong To? N/SFW

Everyone showed him respect and you around his arm it felt like you were some form of royalty. From everything you are wearing from the dress to the shoes even the way you style your hair, he picked it out. A man with exquisite taste. Having dinner 2 hours prior to being in his bedroom his hand rests on your thigh giving it a slight squeeze. He leaned in towards your ear “The night is still young my queen I think it's fair to say, you should show your dedication to your king.” you could get a whiff of his expensive cigar that lingered on him. In the back of your mind, you were trying to figure out a way to tell him you were a virgin. And you began to calculate just the size of his friend down below. ‘Is it going to fit or split me?’ 

You were mentally preparing yourself as the kissing became a make-out session. You felt the cold metal hook on your back as his other hand unzipped your dress. Your hands began to shake as you were undressing the large man. Crocodile studied you and he could see how nervous you were. “Has it been a while for you?''  the ex-warlord asked you. At that moment you had to confess this was something you have never done before and you weren’t sure what to do at this point other than take off your clothes. You did know what sex was but actually doing it you could tell you were a virgin. Crocodile was turned on knowing that you have never been touched by another person before. He could fully claim you as his and no one will ever get the privilege he had with you. He did take it into consideration this was your first time and he was going to start off the only way he knew. 

Crocodile's hand against your smooth skin made your body quiver as he was hovering over you. You could feel his body heat since he was so close to you. “I'm not sure if you're even ready for this.” the raspiness of his voice was quieter as if he was whispering to you. “I’m ready, Crocodile,” you said looking into his dark eyes. “J-just please don’t be too rough.” “I will try not to, I can’t promise anything.” Crocodile spoke without a bit of a warning feeling his large mushroom tip begin to push between your swollen cunt lips. Crocodile let out a low groan as he pushed more into your tight pussy. Your fingers were digging into your lover's arms trying to bite through the pain as much as possible. This cock was throbbing, your pussy was clutching onto his member. Crocodiles saw the tears escaping your eyes. He manages to fit his large member inside your cunt fully. “For this not to be painful you need to relax your body… the more relaxed the more enjoyable it will be.” Crocodile leaned in kissing your forehead.

“I’ll try Sir Croc…” Your eyelids dropped a bit waiting for him to move his cock in and out of you. Leaning in as he pressed his lips against yours as you felt him begin to move his hips into yours. Removing his lips from yours “______, there is no going back after this you belong to me and only me do you understand that?”  He was looking at you waiting for you to respond. You nodded as the moans were coming from your mouth.  He wanted to hear it from you “_______, I need to hear who you belong to.” Crocodile responded.

“You Sir Crocodile! I belong to you~~ and~~ only you~~~” with each thrust you manage to spill out the sentence.

[intellectualfallacy]

Hi, how are you? This idea has been pounding in my mind for a while. The reader being Jun-ho's wife and after he disappears without any news, she starts to despair, until one night In-ho shows up to console her, trying to make her forget her brother, convincing her that he would look for him, being that he had secret feelings for her too. Sorry if it's a little confusing.

A/N: I hope this was a good interpretation of your request! I think I made it a little darker than it needed to be tbh but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Warning(s): Implied Manipulation

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I hung up the phone for the tenth time that evening. It was more than that throughout the day. I sniffled as I walked towards the couch, the apartment feeling emptier than ever. His jacket still hung on the coatrack, a mug he had left on the coffee table there. The anxious feeling in my stomach never left since he went missing. It was the fourth day he went missing. Four terrible nights and four terrible days after he just left without a word. Well, after a kiss and reassurance. I can’t forget. It was just like any other morning. We woke, got ready, ate breakfast, and before he left, he laid a soft kiss against my lips. “I have to work longer tonight. Don’t wait up, okay?” Those were the last words. The last words that I’ve been over analyzing.

Did… did I cause it? Did I cause him to leave? I gulped back the feeling to cry as I sat, trying to take deep breaths. My eyes felt heavy and so did my chest. I glanced down at my hands, rubbing the wedding ring he gave me not even a year or so ago. “Junho, please… come back.” I whispered at nothing, sniffling as I wiped the tears that escaped down my cheeks.

A knock on the front door frightened me, causing me to jolt. No one came to visit at night. I raced towards the door, a delusion in me believing it would be Junho. I opened the door, waiting to be met by him. Inho stood there, a firm face as always as he was dressed in a rather nice looking black suit. “(Y/N).” He said, bowing slightly. I relaxed my breathing. “Inho.” I replied, bowing back. “I wanted to ask about…” He started, trailing off as he noticed my puffy eyes. “Come in.” I replied, moving to let him into the small apartment.

I closed the front door as he walked in, taking in the environment of warm colors, throw blankets and picture frames. He removed his shoes before walking in. “I-I’ve reported him missing already.” I broke the silence as I stood a few feet behind him, him looking back at me. “Have you?” He asked, me nodding in reply. He nodded, looking around again. “Where have you been, Inho? We haven’t heard from you in so long.” I replied, his glances faltering before he turned to fully face me. “I’ve been occupied with a new job… but hearing Junho missing-“ He clenched his jaw, taking in a deep breath. “I had to take a break.”

“T-Thank you for coming.” I said, him giving a slight nod. We stayed in silence before I asked, “Would you like something to drink? A tea maybe?” “No, thank you. I don’t want to be more of a hassle.” He replied as he walked closer to me. “I wanted to ask how you were doing.” He said. I nodded slightly before tears started to swell into my eyes. I didn’t want to bother or let anyone else know about Junhos disappearance other than his mother. It was the first time I was able to actually speak about it.. but I was too afraid to do so.

I couldn’t help the weep that left me, bringing my hands up to cover my face. His footsteps came closer and I felt arms going around me, encasing me against his chest as his hands rested on my back. “It’s okay. You can cry.” He said gently and I did so, crying into his dress shirt. His hand rubbed gently up and down my back, trying to sooth me. “It’s alright.” He repeated, both of us staying there a moment before my tears slowed, sniffles filling the air.

“Sit.” He said as he moved back, grabbing my arm with a gloved hand as he guided me to the couch. I followed, sitting as he went into the kitchen, coming back with a few napkins. “Here.” He said as he sat next to me, handing me the stack he retrieved. “Thank you.” I replied as I grabbed them, wiping my face clean. “It must be hard for you. I know how much you care for him and him to you.” He said as I glanced at him, tossing the tissue into the small trash I kept there. I cleared my throat before replying. “It’s terrifying not knowing where he is. Or what’s happening to him.” A hand came over and covered mine that rested on my knee. “You shouldn’t be worried about that. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” He replied. I looked stunned at his words. “Yes but four days?! He would have answered my calls, let me know where he is.” I said, his grip tightening slightly on my hand as he looked at me with a gentle expression. “He will when he has the chance. There’s no reason to start to panic.” He said, thumb stroking across my hand. I had my doubts. Junho would have called me the moment he knew he was sent for a case or wasn’t coming home on time. But another part trusted in Inho. He was his older brother after all, of course he’d know what Junho is capable of. Of course he would.

I gulped nothing as I looked down at my lap, seeing the black glove covering my hands. Junho would hold my hand the same way when I was upset, him trying to console me on this very couch. “You don’t need to worry about him. I’ll make sure to search for him.” I looked back up at him. “It’s fine. The cops are already-“ “What I have is much more useful than what they have. My work has valuable perks.” He said. I nodded gratefully. “Thank you.” I said, giving a smile.

Inho POV

Her warm smile sent my chest alight. Why, oh why, didn’t I meet you first? What did Junho do to deserve you? Ever since he brought you to the family dinner you invaded my mind. It was difficult to keep you out of my mind. I tried everything. Yet you were still there. If there was anything to help me forget about you… is finally having you.

A smile played on my lips. “You leave the search to me. I’ll stop at nothing to track him down.” I said, her nodding and grasping my hand back. “If there’s anything you need me to help with, I will.” She said, looking back at me with her beautiful eyes that were puffed and red. “I will let you know when I do.” I replied, bringing a hand up and stroking my thumb across her cheek. She tensed as I did so, nervously gulping. I let go, standing up as I straightened my coat jacket. She stood after me, wiping her face again with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “Thank you, again, Inho. You have no idea how much this helps.” She said. I nodded, grabbing a card from the inside of my jacket before handing it to her. “Call me whenever you need. I’ll be by the phone waiting.” I said as she grabbed the brown card, inspecting it before nodding. I nodded before walking over to the door. “I’ll be visiting every other day. To keep you up to date with my search.” I lied. She opened the door and nodded. “Anything to help.” She replied. Putting my shoes back on, looking back at her once again. Her beauty always amazed me no matter what she wore or what state she was in. No other woman I met compared, leaving me seething in jealousy all these years. But now that dear brother is out of the way… if I play my cards right…

“Don’t worry about Junho anymore, okay?” I said, stepping outside and turning back to her. She nodded, a hand on the door. “I know. It’s not doing me any good and I should trust him more. Like you said.” She replied. I smiled slightly and nodded. “Good. I hope you have a goodnight.” I said, not waiting for a reply as I left, entering the elevator at the end of the apartment hall. I smirked to myself as I pressed the button for the ground floor. Maybe it’ll be easy to get her after all.

[hongism]

05 - j.wooyoung + lingerie (18+)

» j.wooyoung x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor, nsfw/pwp » language, feminization, lap dancing, strip tease, bratty wooyoung, manual stimulation, grinding, cum eating, dirty talk, finger sucking » wc 3.3k » link to masterlist

you’ve almost come to the conclusion that tonight was a complete and utter waste of time when your eyes pause in their subtle search across the room. it’s fast, and you almost miss him because of how quickly you’re surveying the club, but you have to backtrack at the sight of the pink head of hair. it’s not too out of the ordinary — not for a club like this one at least, and frankly, the face connected to the stark hair entrances you more than the hair does. the friend at your side seems to notice where your gaze keeps lingering, elbow careening into your ribs seconds later.

“like what you see over there?” she giggles, most likely amused by how you jolt and startle with the contact.

“he’s pretty,” you mutter back as you strain your neck a little to catch sight of the rest of him. he’s not up on a stage with the other dancers, not wrapped around a pole or anything like that, so you can’t get a full and clear view of what he’s wearing.

“he doesn’t perform with the others, i hear. solo performer, and only does private shows.”

sure, there’s a stack of money set aside for this particular reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cave and spend it all on this one man.

you aren’t.

it’s not going to stop you from getting up and going over there to get a better look at him.

“i’ll be back,” you mutter, picking up your wallet and drink with the same hand. you’re hoping it won’t look obvious to your friend, but the laugh that follows your movements is telling enough.

“have fun!”

you step through the crowd of couches that are mostly full of older men and women, apologizing each time you cross in front of them and accidentally block their view of the dancers. your target hasn’t moved, still lingering near the bar with a drink set in front of him as he also indulges in the sight of the dancers on stage. you’re almost fooled into believing that he’s simply a client here and not actually a worker, but there’s a certain sway to his hips and head against the music thumping through the club that says otherwise. he moves his body too well even with subtle and small movements. elbows propped up on the bar counter behind him, a lollipop dangling from his fingertips and periodically going up to catch on his tongue, and that pretty pink hair bouncing with each movement he makes. you’re enticed in an instant.

the obscenity of his outfit doesn’t help one bit either. and perhaps obscenity is a bit too strong a word to describe it, but your brain goes to static and white noise the more you see of him, and it’s easy to see why that is. a sheer lavender crop top that does nothing to hide the lace bralette underneath, along with a pretty plaid skirt that tapers his waist almost too well, belts and buckles hanging from both sides and jingling when he sways his hips in time with the music. the further down your eyes go, the more overwhelmed you get because he’s got fishnets (of course) that lead to chunky black combat boots. he looks simultaneously quite out of place here while also seeming like there’s no other logical place for him to be. your steps towards him falter a little; it’s no wonder that he doesn’t have anyone at his side right now. he’d outshine them without even trying, and the air around him feels a bit untouchable as well like he’s too good for anyone’s presence except his own and the bartender behind him. the thought to turn around and return to your friend like a dog with its tail between its legs crosses your mind. that’s all it does though because as you shift to act on that thought, sharp eyes snap over to meet yours across the bar counter.

opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by at least ten barstools if not more, plenty of other people in front of him to look at, yet the dancer cranes his head in your direction and makes eye contact. 

your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, an act more out of nerves than meant to be seductive in the slightest. 

there’s no direct invitation to go further towards him. really all he does is incline his head slightly, and you take it as a cue to step around the barstools and walk over to where he’s tapping his chunky boot against the floor.

“hi.”

you startle upon hearing his clear tone, although you aren’t wholly sure why that’s the case. 

“hello,” you greet in return. you keep your glass caught firmly between your fingers as you sit in the barstool beside him. he looks even prettier in this light — with blinking up at him from where you sit and the neon lights cascading over his face and hair. there’s a stunning beauty mark under his eye, and another on his lower lip under the sheen of pink lip gloss. something sparkles under his eyes and in the inner corners, what you can only assume to be eyeshadow and glitter. 

“i caught your eye, huh?”

there’s a twinge of embarrassment that shoots through your body, and you duck your chin to your chest, clearing your throat as quietly as you can like it’ll dispel the nerves accompanied by the feeling. 

“cute,” the man continues. his sweet tone is almost like honey, or some syrup that tastes like it could be too much after a certain point. “wanna buy my time then?”

the offer comes so quickly that you’re a bit shocked. all these people in the club and yet not one has approached him? or accepted his offer? it seems far too unbelievable.

“you’re not gonna ask me anything first? my name, my age, anything like that?”

he laughs for the first time tonight, and you think you’ll grow to love that sound by the end of it. the lollipop pushes back between his lips only for him to make a show of how he swirls his tongue around the ball of candy. when he pulls it back out, it springs free with a lewd pop in its wake.

“you’re the first one tonight who’s stopped me to ask that. most just jump straight to it. i’m wooyoung. and you?”

“y/n.”

“hmm, it’ll sound prettier coming from my lips later.”

your brain buffers and hits a wall. you lose whatever thought was lingering in your mind, and wooyoung has the audacity to flash a grin and send a wink your way.

“you’re in luck tonight, y/n. i only start taking clients at ten o’clock, and it’s two minutes past ten right now.” a strobe of neon red flashes over his face, illuminating his eyes in a way that makes your heart jump in your chest. “assuming you want me, that is,” he adds through a stretched grin, and you wouldn’t dream of denying him the pleasure of hearing your affirmation.

“yes, i’d like that quite a bit.”

wooyoung leads you off to the side of the club, where the hallway of private rooms begins, and he wastes no time in bringing you into the nearest unlocked one. you’ve got your wallet still clasped between nervous hands, but your drink was long forgotten on the bar counter you found wooyoung at. it’s fairly standard for this type of room, nothing to gawk at or make note of aside from the metal pole that stretches up to the ceiling. you’re certain your attention will be firmly planted on wooyoung throughout the entirety of your stay here, so you aren’t worried much about making yourself at home.

the dancer seems keen on the same as well, or at least he’s excited to get started. knowing how much money you’ve got in your wallet, you can’t blame him for the excitement. he turns to face you after shutting and locking the door, skirt billowing around his thighs a little. you think you see a flash of lace underneath, tucked under the fishnets, but that could very well be merely a wistful thought and nothing else. 

“lay down,” he demands, motioning to the short round table right in front of the couches.

“um…” you blink from the white surface to wooyoung’s serious expression. 

“what? never had a lap dance before?” he quirks a brow and flashes another dastardly grin, and you hate the way your stomach flips over at the sight of it.

“not one where i’ve had to lay down, no.” 

wooyoung huffs out a laugh and pops his lollipop back into his mouth. he steps around your awkward, still form to put one of his feet up on the pristine white surface. the boot releases a hollow noise when it hits the table.

“oh, you’ll love it, i promise. now come on, on your back, legs relaxed. i’ll make it worth your while. and your money too, we hope.” 

wooyoung’s little tilt to his chin and the soft bats of his lashes are what convince you to do as told. you slip your shoes off next to the couch and tuck your wallet away in one of them lest wooyoung has the bright idea to make off with all your belongings. then you scramble over the slick surface to lay flat atop it, eyeing wooyoung as he hums and steps up fully on the table over you. his feet straddle your body, right in the gap between your hands and hips, and he pushes that stupid lollipop back between his lips.

“here are my rules, y/n. no touching, no kissing on the lips, no marking, and no demands. you’re here for a show, so i’ll give you one. and maybe i’ll use you to get off a little too? what do you say?”

you suck your lower lip between your teeth, contemplating his words and rolling them over in your mind a bit.

“and if i say no?”

“then i’ll give you a simple lap dance, and that’ll be that. and don’t worry. if i cum… i’ll clean up after myself. you don’t have to do any work really, if you don’t want to.”

“if i don’t want to?” you echo your question.

“how do you feel about sucking my fingers?”

your dumb and stuttered blinking are answer enough for him, and wooyoung leans over to the couch, balancing on one foot as he stretches to reach for something on the cushions. the position give you a far too direct view straight up his skirt. you get confirmation that you did indeed spot lace — a matching set with his pink bralette it seems on top of that.

the music that begins to thump through the speaks is foreign to you, not a song you’ve ever heard before, but the beat is sultry enough for you to understand why wooyoung would play this.

and truly, when he starts to move above you, you fully understand the appeal of this angle. getting to watch the way his skirt sways and teases what’s underneath as his cropped top flutters with his winding movements — it’s a heady feeling being under him and seeing this unfold over you.

wooyoung does his job, and he does it well in only a few swaying moves that promise more to come. if you had to make a comparison, you’d say it’s like watching art in motion, an exhibit where the artist shows you each stroke and twist of his brush. that’s wooyoung now, with the showcase of how he stretches his arms to the ceiling and brings them down the front of his body. the dim lighting in the room does nothing to make the mood less than what it is — pure seduction at its finest, and wooyoung is quickly bringing you down that pit of lust with him. you only know that’s where he’s headed as well because of how his skirt begins to tent a little as time goes on, evidence to how turned on he is by merely dancing to the music. he hasn’t gotten down far enough to even have physical contact with you, but with the way he’s moving now, you aren’t sure he’ll even get that far either.

he does go lower as the song shifts, beat still unfamiliar against your ears, but you’re barely hearing the music beyond how the bass thumps through your veins. as his knees settle on either side of you, close to your waist now and closing in just enough to squeeze you with a hair of pressure, his hands move up under the fabric of his top. they press higher and higher, catching on the hem and tugging as he reaches his neck. your eyes burn like you haven’t blinked in ages, and to be frank, you most likely haven’t because the grip wooyoung has on your focus currently occupies every fiber of your being.

wooyoung works the shirt off, tossing the sheer material over to the side. the look of his tanned skin with blush pink lace overtop clinging to him like a vice under the low lights: it’s sin in its purest form. and that sin only amplifies as he draws his hands down to the waistband of his skirt. he teases and pulls at the material, still lost somewhere between his mind and the music. one of his hands works back up his chest and throat, and when he reaches his mouth, he pulls the lollipop stick out to reveal a now empty stick that is also promptly tossed in the same direction his shirt went. 

“aren’t i pretty, y/n?” he asks all of a sudden. he’s not looking at you, not with the way his eyelids are barely shut, but it captures all your attention nonetheless. “pretty and feminine, hm? some people think i don’t dance as well as the girls out on the stages. but i’m just as pretty as them, aren’t i?”

“more,” you exhale without thinking.

“more,” he echoes back to you with an airy giggle to accompany it. his hands go to the side of his skirt, grabbing onto something on the left, and two seconds later he’s pulling away the entire strip of fabric in one swift movement. you inhale so sharply it stings your nostrils and aches in your chest, and wooyoung takes that as the opportune moment to roll his hips down against your abdomen. it’s not meant for your please, not in the slightest, but you still feel the coil of arousal in your gut snap and pull at itself as he repeats the motion and rubs his barely concealed erection against your stomach. “i’m always prettier than them, y/n.”

wooyoung’s eyes snap open at last, and he drops his skirt to the side before sitting up on his knees over you. the position is nothing if not lewd with how close to your face he is like this. you don’t have much time to think about it because he’s tugging the band of his fishnets down as well, shoes still caught on his feet so there’s no way they’ll go all the way off, but that doesn’t seem to be his intention anyway.

no, wooyoung just tugs them low enough to go under his knees, then he’s back to sitting on his heels and splaying his thighs to the side. the whole thing is a show: each piece of clothing, each drag of his hands, and every word from his lips. 

it continues with him pressing his hand against your chin, then teasing your lower lip with his middle and pointer fingers.

“you know… people always call me a brat. a bratty little bitch, to be specific. they aren’t wrong, of course. but they mean it as an insult whereas i take it as a compliment.” you suck wooyoung’s fingers between your lips and let him explore your mouth with the pads of them. he makes a show of stretching the insides of your cheeks, stabbing against them and watching your skin bulge under the pressure, then he’s pinching your tongue and scraping his nails over the top of it. it tickles in a pleasurable way, the kind that makes your stomach knot up and tense with lust. “i think i’m prettiest when i cum though. and that’s not something i let a lot of people see. they always get handsy even after i tell them not to. think that because i’m all subby and docile, they can break my rules.”

you watch in something of a daze as wooyoung reaches his other hand down to the lace lingerie clinging to his cock. he grips hard enough for you to see the harsh outline of his member, strained and stretching the fabric like it’s about to break. his slow rolls and sways of his hips continue even as he fucks into the palm of his own hand. you don’t think you could move or touch him even if you wanted to right now. each limb feels like it weighs ten tons.

“call me pretty again, y/n. a pretty little brat, yeah?” 

you can’t very well do that with his hand halfway down your throat like it is now, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. all that comes out are muffled moans caught on wooyoung’s fingers. he laughs, throwing his head back as the sound permeates the air, and you were right. you love the sound even more now when he’s a bit breathless and hoarse from arousal, hips canting against your abdomen still as he pushes himself closer to the edge.

“gonna cum, y/n, and make a pretty mess of myself. pay good attention to me please. i want you to see every second of it.” his eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he rubs over his panties a few more times. teeth sink into his lower lip, his nose scrunches up, eyes fighting to stay open and stay on yours without blinking. then he hits his high. it’s beautiful the way he falls apart over you, how his hips stutter and give a few jerky thrusts until his whole body goes still on top of yours. you think you have to agree with him too; this is the prettiest he’s looked all night in your eyes. 

it lasts either ten seconds or ten minutes — you have no concept of time right now, too enamored with the man above you and every movement he makes.

when he does come down, there are stars in his eyes and a sheen on his brow that trickles down the side of his face to his chin. he pulls his hand out of your mouth, but you can’t even bring yourself to close it as you watch him tuck the same hand into his underwear and scoop the stain of translucent white cum out. 

“taste for me?”

you manage a shaky nod, letting wooyoung return his hand to your lips, and when he cups your mouth gently, you poke your tongue out to lap the cum off his palm. 

“hm, now wasn’t that good? better than promised, in fact?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale, finally finding your voice after god knows how long of shocked and aroused silence. wooyoung grins. he leans over you, all but bare chest pressing to your clothed one, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin with ease. his face hovers over yours. you can see his eyes clearer than ever.

“how about we go again then?”

[babyboibucky]

Angel on Her Knees

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You give Bucky the TLC he deserves.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: SMUT, an overly eager blowjob 😏

A/N: So this is the first blowjob fic I’ve ever done and this is all thanks to @borikenlove sending me ideas with encouragements from my nasty babes @bitchassbucky and @sarge-barnes-sir okay tbh I didn’t proofread this because I’m super excited to post this filth 😌 I hope this reached y’alls expectations 😬

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s had a long and rough day, judging by his heavy footsteps and soft grunts when he arrived home.

You were in the kitchen washing the dishes, eyeing Bucky warily and gauging his mood.

“Rough day, babe?” You called out sweetly, your eyes following Bucky as he sat on the couch.

He merely groaned in response, throwing his head back against the back of the couch, his eyes closed and brows furrowed in deep thought.

The scowl on Bucky’s face was supposed to make you feel bad for him, he looked tired and worked up— exhausted actually. Would it be inconsiderate of you if you were legitimately turned on by how your boyfriend looked right now?

You found yourself tilting your head to get a better view of Bucky on the couch. His legs were wide open, stretching out the garment of his jeans across those thick thighs of his; the rapid movement of his chest as he heavily breathed out through his nose, the black shirt he had on only accentuating his pecs.

And his face, did he really have to have that expression when exhausted?

Licking your lips, you turned off the faucet and wiped your hands dry. Your eyes never left Bucky the entire time as you silently waltzed into the living room.

For a super soldier with enhanced hearing, Bucky sure wasn’t attentive enough to notice you when you knelt down on the ground, positioning yourself in between his legs.

“How tired are you, baby?” You purred, holding onto Bucky’s knees.

Bucky jolted in his seat, eyes snapping open when you spoke. He lifted his head up and saw you looking up at him and the sight alone instantly made him forget what he was stressing over.

You on your knees in between his thighs, looking so innocent yet devilish at the same time. How could Bucky say no to you when you were gazing up at him like an angel who looked more than ready to sin?

“Not too tired for whatever it is going on in that head.” Bucky rasped out and lovingly caressed your hair.

You took your lower lip in between your teeth, your hands immediately sliding up from Bucky’s knees towards his thighs. Bucky watched you with half-lidded eyes and his mouth parted as you impatiently fumbled with his zipper.

“Just sit back, baby. Let me do all the work.” You whispered before taking Bucky’s semi-hard cock out of the confines of his boxers.

Bucky let out a hiss when you pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the tip as you wrapped a hand around his shaft. It only took him a couple of kitten licks on the head for his cock to fully harden and you moaned out loud when you felt it pulse against your palm.

His cock was hot and heavy, red and already seeping with pre-cum. And you haven’t even taken him into your mouth yet. Bucky’s hands found purchase on the edge of the couch as he watched you flatten your tongue against his shaft, licking your way back up to the tip and then sucking the head into your mouth.

“Jesus fuck...” Bucky grunted, hips thrusting upwards with need.

You tutted and pulled back, “Stay still and keep your hands on the couch, babe.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose and nodded, letting out a growl when you started pumping his cock in your hand. Your strokes were slow, too slow for Bucky’s liking and good god, the way you were staring up at him was making it hard for Bucky to hold back.

He wanted to take your head and fuck your mouth, wanted to feel you gag around his cock, wanted to see you look up at him with tears in your eyes.

Obviously, that can wait until next time because as much as Bucky loved to take control, seeing you take the wheels on this one was something else.

Bucky’s knuckles turned white when he gripped the couch tighter than ever, his thighs trembling when you finally took his cock into your mouth.

You didn’t go slow, that was for sure. You went straight to it, taking him deep into your throat and keeping him there until you choked. You released him with a gasp, moaning when you saw how Bucky was looking down at you with feral eyes.

“Keep watching me.” You said, darting your tongue out to scoop some of his pre-cum and humming at his taste.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me, sweetheart.” Bucky grunted, scrunching his face in pleasure.

You grinned up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, hands curling around his knees for support as you went to town. You bobbed your head up and down, letting your tongue swirl around the crown of Bucky’s cock every once in a while.

A mixture of spit and pre-cum started dribbling from your lips as you sucked his cock, humming whenever you felt him hit the back of your throat.

Bucky’s jaw tensed as he watched you, your cheeks hollowing whenever you pulled back. His neck and ears were red as opposed to his hands that were turning white as they clutched onto the edge of the couch so tight, his fingers were close to digging holes through the fabric. He was fighting so hard not to lift his hips up, he felt like he was going to combust any time now.

The vulgar slurping sounds of your mouth as it does wonders to Bucky’s dick rang through the air, coupled with the low growls reverberating from his chest.

“God, baby...fuck...you’re sucking my cock so well.” Bucky moaned, throwing his head back as he focused on how your mouth felt so fucking good around him.

“Watch me, Bucky.” You preened and started pumping his cock with both your hands.

“Wanna see your face when I suck your cock.” You moaned and waited for Bucky to meet your eyes before sucking him back into your mouth.

Bucky let out a growl when your hand squeezed his balls, fondling it in your palm as you continued to bob your head.

The whirring sound of his vibranium arm caught your attention. Bucky was so close, so so close and he was holding back from lifting his hips up that the plates on his arm moved on their own.

You smirked, mouth full of Bucky’s cock and then you sucked him so hard that he came without warning. Ropes of his cum filled your mouth, some escaping from your lips and dripping down to your chin.

“Goddammit!” Bucky grunted and grabbed your head, trying to push you back when you continued to suck.

Bucky was moving his hips away but you refused to let him go, pressing your hands down on his thighs to keep him in place. You sucked and flicked your tongue, ignoring the string of curses that left Bucky’s mouth.

“Baby...jesus...s-stop babe...” Bucky’s moan was never like this, high-pitched and so wanton and it spurred you to keep going, curious to see how long Bucky could take.

Bucky’s toes curled inside his shoes, his entire body feeling tingly from how you kept sucking his cock. His head was spinning and yet he couldn’t look away from you as you continued working him up as you eagerly sucked him.

Bucky’s legs began to tremble, pleasure and pain mixing into a certain sensation that he couldn’t even describe.

It was too much but so good at the same time.

Bucky hissed, his lower lip quivering as he let out a loud groan. You slowly pulled back, lips dragging against his softening shaft and tongue flickering on his slit.

You hummed and wiped your chin clean with the back of your hand. Bucky let out a deep, long sigh before relaxing onto the couch. Resting his head against it as he tried to catch his breath.

You could see the aftershocks course through Bucky, his cock stirring oh so slightly whenever he shuddered.

“Good god, woman.” He breathed out with a chuckle.

He looked divine like that, his forehead sweaty and entire face red. His brows were furrowed, lips pink and swollen from being bitten down whenever he held back on his moans— it made your pussy clench around nothing.

“How are you feeling now?” You teased and moved on top of Bucky, straddling him.

Bucky lifted his head to give you a kiss, “I don’t think I can even remember my own name. Fuck, I thought you weren’t going to stop.” He said, his hands caressing your thighs.

You giggled, “I wouldn’t if you hadn’t moaned so wantonly like that.”

Bucky burst out laughing, “That was my soul leaving my body.”

You hummed and took Bucky’s vibranium hand, bringing it down to your clothed cunt and letting Bucky feel how drenched you already were.

Bucky growled and stroked your pussy through your damp panties, “How about I let you experience what it’s like for your soul to leave your body?”

It was your turn to elicit a moan so wanton and needy, you were sure that you wouldn’t even have a soul left in your body by the time Bucky’s finished with you.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni @girlfriday007​ @5-seconds-of-mendes @whoth3hellisbucky​​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03

[littleboba]

❝ bubble baths ❞

note: here’s a part two of “domestic”!

♡ ── wc: 940

♡ ── pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader

♡ ── desc: fingering/heavy petting + teasing + established relationship + pampering + spitting + nanami being a service dom

You ease yourself into a bubble filled bath, the water hot enough to leave you hissing, but your tense muscles are thankful for it.

Tonight’s aroma of choice is a light peach fragrance from a set of candles you’d received as a gift. And as you relax in the heat, neck deep in bubbles, you can’t help but feel calm and at peace.

It’s rather easy to forget how quiet the apartment can be when you’re home alone.

No work obligations or texts from co-workers needing assistance and on rare occasions that’ll sometimes mean no Nanami too. This evening in particular, your husband is an hour late which can only mean he’s gotten roped into working overtime with Gojo again. You won’t complain, or at least, you won’t give yourself the chance to lament his absence but you will take this little opportunity as a small blessing in disguise. You’re being afforded some much needed privacy.

A sigh escapes your lips as you draw lazy circles around your clit. You think of Nanami again and take time imagining him with his face buried between your legs, tongue lapping against your folds. These images are your remedy against lonely nights without him.

Phantom touches. A kiss here and there.

Something snaps, and iron hot pleasure has you pitching forward, thighs clenching as you let out a moan, muscles looser than jelly. As you lean back and continue to soak, you drift lazily between sleep and consciousness in the next second, half-submerged in a pool of warmth.

Not much time has passed, but when you awaken fully, it’s to the sound of Nanami’s shoes clicking against the linoleum. The very object of your affections finally stands before you in the flesh.

“You look relaxed.” He says offhandedly.

“And you look like hell.” You smile, cheeks feeling a tad warm when he looks at you without the cover of his shades.

“That’s to be expected, but I’m finally off the clock. Which means I get to spend time with you, right?”

Sitting up, you cradle your head against your raised knees, watching as your husband sheds his suit jacket, and rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands.

“Oh yeah!” You laugh. “Gonna join me then?” You catch his gaze again in the mirrors reflection; there’s a smile ghosting along his lips.

“Is that an offer?”

Your entire being lights up with anticipation as Nanami takes a seat at the edge of the tub, though careful not to wet his slacks.

“Kiss me please,” you murmur and of course he obliges. His tongue sweeps across your own and you can’t help but notice he tastes of something sweet, like strawberry. A candy pit pocketed from Gojo, perhaps? You’re eager to find out. His lips mold atop yours, stealing your breath in just a few short seconds. And when Nanami withdraws from you, it's with an audible smack.

“Open.” He commands.

You willingly obey and part your lips. His fingers graze your jaw, tilting your chin ever so slightly while his saliva drips down your tongue. Swallowing is instinctive.

With a whine, you chase after his lips but Nanami only leaves a chaste peck on your nose to finish.

He strokes your bare thigh, eyes glued to the suds and bubbles gliding over your breasts and down your cleavage. You can see him straining against his pants. But for some reason, he doesn’t seem very inclined to give it any attention yet. No, he only has eyes for you now. His hands travel lower, a clear goal in sight, but your thighs snap shut and halt his movements.

“Babe, at least take off your watch.”

“It’s replaceable.” He replies. Stubborn man.

“Still. It probably costs my entire paycheck,” you insist, leaning your head against his thigh. “Don’t be silly.”

But truly your arguments don’t hold up very well against a throbbing clit. Talk about your own body betraying you. Nanami smiles softly as you finally part your thighs for him to continue his voyage.

You can’t help but jump when he rubs your pussy. His hands feel a lot different from yours. Your head is still in his lap, lulled into submission by the scent of his expensive cologne and the softness of his touch.

“Talk to me,” Nanami says. “Come on, use your words.” His thumb catches against your clit causing you to moan.

“Please Ken, I w-wanna come... on your fingers,” you begin to rock your hips, almost sloshing the bath water over the rim. “Please.”

Nanami slides two fingers in, feeling your squishy walls clench around his fingers. When he presses a particular bundle of nerves, you nearly cry out. Pressure builds, once again, at the base of your tummy.

“Let it out.” He kisses your forehead. “Don’t be shy.”

You rolls your hips, meeting his thrusts; a little frenzied with the way your breaths grow shallow. “Fuck. Just like that.”

You fist his shirt with a wet hand. Coming hard for a second time has you twitching with every broken cry that falls from your lips. Nanami kisses you again, harder this time, as you moan one final time against his mouth.

You both make somewhat of mess of the bathroom when he picks up out of the bath. His clothes grow soaked, water drips from your body onto the tiles. Neither of you are concerned.

Nanami makes a show of dropping you onto the bed. “Still up for more?” He asks, while loosening his tie.

The answer is hidden in your heated gaze. You place your foot on his crotch, pressing lightly against his cock. “Of course I am.”

[leggerefiore]

Fi. Fi I am on my knees begging for Ingo in nothing but an apron. I have such a need for this now. I will take you to the grocery store and give you quarters to put in the vending machines at the entrance if you write it. (I personally believe that the best way to appreciate someone in that outfit is to bend them over the countertop and fuck them stupid, but write what works best for you!)

I don't do readers with dicks, sorry anon.

cw: 18+ content, AFAB reader

Ingo felt embarrassed, honestly. He was a man of manner and proper etiquette, but something inside him snapped when you mentioned wanting to see him in nothing but an apron.

It had started when you stared at him while he cooked dinner one night. You had been so clearly exhausted that he had decided to take over cooking and let you have the time to relax. Your eyes observed how he tied the Litwick printed apron around himself and started chopping vegetables. It was At that moment you considered what a sweet, loving house husband Ingo would make.

The crude comment slipped out later when he handed you your plate. His face quickly became a bright red while he averted his eyes from you. “Wh-what ever do you mean, dear?” he stuttered and awkwardly took his seat across from you. You stared at him. It amazed you how he could both be strangely dominant or sweetly submissive. Either way, he always took care of your needs. You repeated yourself, and he swallowed dryly. His adam's apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

Either way, Ingo decided to go along with what you craved. The feeling of the apron's fabric against his bare skin was a strange one. There was naturally a bit of discomfort as his cock rubbed against the fabric. You asked for it, however.

The whipped cream topped the small chocolate cake, and it was finished off with a bright red cherry. His eyes stared at the green, digital numbers illuminating from the stove. You should be back from your outing with Elesa soon. He sat it down on the table and waited. Time slowly passed as his excitement and nervousness worsens.

Soon, footsteps echo from outside the door and stop outside. He hears the lock click, and the doorknob turn. Ingo is quick to stand up and greet you as you come in. You failed to give him any attention as you slipped your shoes off. Of course, he clears his throat.

Your eyes see your husband waiting at the door in nothing but an apron. His collar bones travel nicely under the covering, while his legs are exposed from the mid-thigh down. There's an obvious bulge where his cock is, and all you can do is stare. He crosses his arms and gazes at you with a serious expression.

A giggle leaves you before you rush over to him. He catches you with ease. Your arms pull him close while your lips press to his. Ingo's silver eyes remain trained on you while your tongue swipes at his bottom lip. You are given access without much hesitation and suck his tongue into your mouth. A moan leaves his throat, which vibrates through the kiss. You find yourself pushing him into the kitchen and against a counter. He groans from the surface touching his back.

You pull away temporarily and lick your lips, which has him flush and mutter a 'dear'. Another giggle leaves you, as you kneel before him and push away the apron. His cock is half hard. Your hand fluffs the soft silver hair above his length before you grasp it. He slaps a hand over his mouth as you pump his dick to fully erect. The feeling of it is hot and heavy in your grip. It's soon as flushed as his face.

You lean in and give the length a few long, licks before taking the head into your mouth, your hands hold his hips still as your tongue swirls around his cock head. He lets out loud moans and whines from your actions. You feel his dick twitch more and more, before pulling away, a strand of mixed pre-cum and saliva connecting his length to your lips.

Silver eyebrows are furrowed together as you gaze up at him. Hazy eyes stare down at you while his mouth hangs open as he takes pants. You love him. He's so cute like this. “Ingo… Can you go sit at the table?” you ask him with a controlled tone. He nods and manages a breathy yes. You watch as he goes. Your pants are quickly removed as you ignore the darkening wet spot in your underwear. They're abandoned in the kitchen as you re-enter the dining room area.

Ingo sits on a chair with his legs spread, cock up between them and balls against the seat of the chair. You carefully position yourself over his lap as you grasp his dick to hold it still. You rub him between your wet folds before moving his cock head to your entrance. At first, you lower yourself slowly. This draws out gentle sounds from Ingo.

Suddenly, you slap yourself down until he bottoms out. A groan leaves him as you immediately begin bouncing on his cock. His hands grasp your hips to help you, while yours grab his cute apron. His mouth is open wide while noises never cease to leave him. His dick stretches you nicely, and you are barely holding back your moans. You lean forward to kiss him again, but it's all tongue and messy. Lidded eyes stare down at your body, taking him in and out. You know he loves the sight of his dick buried inside you.

“Mmm, something on your mind, Ingo?” You tease as you move to grind down him, greatening his pleasure. He nods. You keep up your movements until he finally talks again. “Darling… Inside… Please let me come inside…” he begs, hands tightening on your waist.  You smile down at him.

Such a cute plea… Who were you to deny him?

“Alright, go ahead, Ingo~” you coo, moving faster. Your orgasm grew closer and closer, too. He helps move you up and down. His cock hits a sensitive spot in you and sends shivers down your spine, but you keep going. Pleas and whines babble from his mouth until he throws his head back. Heat spreads inside you as he cums.

You keep going through his orgasm, watching as he eyes roll back in his head. His expression and cock hitting that place in you eventually brings you over the edge. You clamp down on his overstimulated dick and a loud moan leaves him. Crashing against him, your face buries itself into his shoulder, while his arms encircle around your waist to support you.

“Thank you so much, Ingo!” you manage after a few moments of rest, “This was exactly what I wanted!”

“I am ever so happy I could bring you such pleasure, my love,” his voice is a bit raspy, and he presses a kiss softly to your cheek. Eyes move to the table. A smile plays across his lips, “Ah, I made a dessert for you. I hope it's to your liking.”

You stared at the treat with a soft expression.

Oh, Ingo.

[fandom-puff]

Teach Me Tiger- Tywin Lannister

Warnings: political/arranged marriage, smut, loss of virginity, sketchy medieval sex Ed (ie, reader thinks the only purpose of sex is procreation), masturbation/guided masturbation, older man/younger woman

This is inspired a little by my Tywin Lannister marriage HCs a did a few weeks ago :). Also soz it took so long I was working on this for quite a while and I DEFINITELY got carried away oops xx

Gif creds to owner

Song creds to owner

Teach me Tiger how to kiss you

Show me Tiger how to kiss you

The heavy velvet draped over your shoulders, in Lannister red and gold, almost weighing you down as you turned back to the septon, not daring to look up at the old lion you now called husband. Barely processing the words of the septon, you stood stock still, until it was time for you to turn to Tywin, tip your chin up and receive his kiss. It was a chaste, barely there kiss, done out of duty rather than love. Of course there wasn’t any love behind it; this marriage was done only out of duty, duty to Casterly Rock, which needed a suitable heir without a tarnished reputation for incest and whoreing, duty to your house, which desperately needed Lannister gold and men. Nevertheless, the ghost of a kiss still left you a little breathless and dizzy, and you couldn’t help but think of the bedding ceremony later on that night.

Take my lips, they belong to you

“We do not have to consummate the marriage right this instant,”

You looked over your shoulder, lip drawn into you mouth nervously. “But-”

“You’re young, inexperienced. And you’ve been tense with nerves since you walked into the sept. Come. Sit. We’ll have some wine. Talk, if you’d like,” Tywin gestured to a simple couch, big enough for the two of you to sit without being too close.

Still worrying your lip between your teeth, you perched on the edge, accepting your Lord husband’s offer of a goblet of wine. “I- I thought... my purpose was to give you an heir, my Lord,” you murmured, staring at the dark red liquid in the cup.

Tywin sighed and sat down, leaving just over a foot between you, nursing his own goblet. “It is. Eventually,” he said. “When you are ready. I would not force myself on you,”

“But the king said-”

“Never mind what the king said. My grandson has no say in what happens in my- our marriage chamber,”

A little more relaxed, you braved a look up at your husband, admiring his chiselled jaw, his blonde hair streaked with white, before quickly draining your goblet, feeling a little more relaxed as you stood to set it down. Tywin watched with fascination as you put your cup back on the tray, eyes fixed on you as you came to sit back down- he was very much aware of the fact that you sat a little closer to him. Happy to go off your lead, he continued to nurse his drink, eyes occasionally flicking to you as you shuffled a little closer. He tensed briefly as you leaned into him, before relaxing slowly.

“I-I’d like you to kiss me, please,” you murmured, your soft voice barely reaching his ears. Tywin arched his brows, locking eyes with you, silently asking if you were sure.

You nodded your head, tipping your chin up the same way you had done in the Sept.

But teach me first, teach me what to do

Tywin gave you another chaste kiss that had your tummy fluttering, and you found yourself leaning further forward as he was pulling away. A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “Easy now,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, looking away, cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“For what?” Tywin asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

“For... being inexperienced, I suppose. I doubt I’m the most exciting bedfellow you’ve ever had,” you rubbed your arm, self conscious. Despite the heat of kings landing, you felt a soft chill skitter over your flesh. “I don’t... know...” you looked at the floor, suddenly very interested in the grain of the wood.

“You’re a maid, I take it?” When you nodded quickly, Tywin held up his hand. “It matters not to me. Not in that way. But I presume you’ve never known a man? I presume you’ve never... known yourself?” He added in an undertone, and you let out a little gasp, shaking your head.

“Will you...” you gulped, looking up at him, seeing his pupils slowly expand. “Teach me? To know...”

“Teach you to know me, or yourself?”

You straightened your back, chest raising and falling with each breath. “Both,”

Touch me Tiger when I'm close to you

The small sitting area, with its couch, desk, bookshelves and table, was most certainly not the place for the consummation of your marriage. Tywin led you through a small passageway and a door to his sleeping chambers. Instantly, your eyes made contact with the bed, already turned down, pillows plumped. Clearing his throat, Tywin directed your attention back to him. “Help me with these buttons. They are much too fiddly,” he said, gesturing to his doublet. You smiled softly, happy to carry out the simple task to put your nerves at ease, knowing full well that Tywin could undo his own buttons. “Shall I undo your braids?” He asked as you folded the expensive scarlet fabric, leaving him in his linen shirt and his trousers.

“Yes please,” you murmured. “The hairpins have been stabbing me all day and night,”

Tywin smirked, stepping behind you and towering over you as he began unpinning the intricate braids, letting you unravel them as they fell to your shoulders. “We can’t have that,” he said and you smiled, running your fingers through your hair. When the final braid was loosened and unraveled, you couldn’t help but lean back into Tywin, sighing softly as his hands came to rub the tension out of your shoulders. Eyes fluttering shut, you tipped your head back to rest it against his shoulder, exposing your throat and allowing him to undo your necklace and cast it aside as your apprehension melted away. Slowly, Tywin’s elegant hands moved from your shoulders to smooth over your waist, making you gasp as his fingers kneaded the flesh there.

“My Lord-”

“Tywin,” he whispered into your ear, relishing in your little shudder.

“Tywin...” you sighed. “Please... the dress...”

“Off?” He asked, just to be sure, not wanting to rush you. With your eager nod, he made a noise of content, stepping back a little to access the lacing of your dress, slowly unthreading it, allowing the delicate fabric to flutter to the ground, leaving you in your chemise and stockings and bodice. You kicked off your shoes, dropping a few inches in height as you began fumbling with the fiddly laces of your bodice. His eyes were firmly on you as you began the painstaking process of unlacing your bodice, and you did not miss the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as your nimble fingers worked the end of the lace through the many holes. When the structured garment finally fell to the ground with a dull thud, you looked back up to him, resisting the urge to cross your arms over your chest- the thin chemise you wore as a buffer between your corset and your skin was sheer enough that you were sure he could see your tightening nipples through it.

Tywin flicked his eyes over your form briefly, before approaching you slowly. You were fully aware that he still had his boots and trousers on, though now that his doublet was off, you could see the tightness in them. Arching his brow in amusement, he asked “would you like me to undress?”

Chewing your lip, you nodded, sitting on the foot of his bed as you watched him take off his shirt. You gulped, eyeing up his chest shamelessly; you were surprised at how... well he looked, especially at his age, your eyes lingering on his sinewy yet strong form. Snapping out of your little trance, you looked to the floor, face flooding with heat as Tywin smirked at you. “You can look, you know. I am your husband after all,”

You let out a nervous laugh at his remark, though as he kicked off his boots and began to unlace his trousers, you couldn’t unlock your eyes from his stare, drawing your lip into your mouth as his trousers dropped to the floor. “S-should we... get into bed?” You murmured.

“We shall. But I will say this now, YN, if you do not want to be intimate tonight, I can wait until you’re ready. We could just lay and talk, or you could sleep,”

You smiled slightly. Tywin was surprising you more and more; at the wedding feast you had heard bawdy remarks that the head of house Lannister would simply have his wicked way with you and then bundle you off to Casterly Rock whether you liked it or not. It seemed he would do nothing of the sort. “I’d like to lay a while,” you murmured. Tywin nodded and gestured for you to make himself comfortable in the grand bed. It was difficult not to, what with the soft pillows and comfortable mattress. Tywin lay by your side, leaving a gap between you both as he had done on the couch, drawing the covers up to cover you both.

Help me Tiger, I don't know what to do

You lay in relative silence for a while, occasionally glancing at one another, making small remarks here and there. Eventually, a streak of boldness bolted through you and you turned on your side, facing Tywin, your chin propped up by your hand.

“you know before...” you began, trying to avoid Tywin’s gaze as he looked at you with amusement. You sighed, changing tack. “You said you would help me to know you,”

“That I did,” he prompted, knowing there was something more to your rambling.

“But... you also said you’d help me... know myself,” Tywin nodded slowly, urging you on. “How?” You finished bluntly.

“I assume you know... the mechanics,” he said vaguely.

“Yes. Well, what my septa taught me,”

“Ah. What your septa failed to tell you was that it can be quite... an enjoyable experience. For both parties. You may feel intense pleasure, that is,”

“But... the purpose is to... make an heir,” you said, frowning slightly.

“And there is more chance of success if you enjoy yourself doing it,”

You bit your lip slightly. “Can you show me?” You asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Tywin looked at you intensely, and instantly, you answered the silent questions that blazed in his eyes. “Please. I’m sure,”

Nodding, Tywin eased you onto your back, proving himself up on his elbow as he hovered over you. “It is very important that you prepare yourself... there are many places in your body that the simplest touch-” still beneath the sheets, he dragged his knuckle over your clothes waist, smirking at your shiver, “-will bring you pleasure. Touch your body, YN, through your chemise,” you nodded slowly, shutting your eyes as you ran your fingertips up, over your thighs, your hips, your waist... then back down. On every other journey, you’d swipe your thumbs over your clothed nipples, gasping and arching your back. Tywin hummed in approval, tipping your chin up so he could press several kisses to your throat. “Very good...” he whispered into your ear, relishing in your pleased shudder. He placed his large hand over one of yours and guided it further south. You gulped, aware of the hot wetness gathering between your thighs. “Now... here...”

You took a breath, hitching your chemise up until it was bunched over your hips. Tywin could not see thanks to the covers, but he could just imagine your wetness, giving the way you had been wriggling your hips. “Spread your legs,” he murmured, feeling his cock twitch in wake of your pretty sighs. “Good,” he praised, and you nodded, biting your lip hard. “Now, touch yourself, between your legs,”

“How will I know if...”

“You will know,” he affirmed and you nodded, beginning to stroke around the general vicinity until-

Your back arched and you let out a shuddery moan. He was right. You definitely knew. Quickly becoming both breathless and speechless, you allowed yourself to succumb to pleasure as your lord husband watched. Gasping for air, you felt yourself climb further and further and further, until you toppled over the peak, aided by a slight pinch to your nipple. Shaking, you stared up at the ceiling, feeling gentle lips pressed against your forehead as you recovered from your high. You felt yourself leaning into him, moaning softly at the dull throb between your legs. When you finally trusted yourself to speak without an embarrassing wobble to your voice, you looked up at your husband, eyes blown wide with desire for the lion. “Please...” you whispered.

I know that you could love me to

But show me first, show me what to do

This is the first love that I have ever known

What must I do to make you my very own?

Tywin nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You knew his tenderness was to calm you down. It wasn’t out of love; how could you love one another? Your marriage had been one of political strategy, and you were well aware that the only love Tywin Lannister ever knew was for his late wife Joanna.

Teach me Tiger how to tease you

But as Tywin manoeuvred himself between your thighs, the candle light casting shadows from his high cheekbones, you felt... something. He was being so gentle with you, so tender, his large hands splaying over your waist and stomach and hips as you tugged your chemise over your head, leaving you completely nude beneath him. You licked your lips quickly, feeling undoubtedly exposed as you were spread out beneath him, thighs parted to cradle him between them. Eyeing the bulge in his linen underwear, you bit your lip, your nerves running through you again, mile a minute.

Sensing your nervousness, Tywin took your hand, guiding it slowly to his prominent bulge. You gasped, feeling the hot, hard flesh through the fabric as you palmed him. Even through the fabric you could tell how well endowed he was. As your hand ran over the ridges of his cock, Tywin let out a suppressed groan. “Clever girl,” he praised softly and you smiled, nibbling your lip.

Eventually, Tywin knocked your hand away, reaching to fish his cock from his underwear. You barely got a look before he was hovering above you, holding one of your thighs apart with one hand, the other guiding his cock over your wet entrance. “This may hurt... only for a moment,” he murmured, and you nodded- your septa had not spared you the details of procreation.

As he eased his cock into your waiting hole, you felt yourself tense up. He was barely in you, yet you felt so full. The fullness was soon accompanied by a slight pain that had you gasping, but pretty soon you were overcome by the sensation of being stretched out. Giving an experimental rock of your hips, you groaned out, the noise guttural and wanton, and your lips were unable to stop it escaping. “Move,” you whispered. “Move, please,” you hooked your legs around his hips for good measure, heels beginning to press into his lower back as he began rocking his hips, pulling almost all the way out before easing back in.

Once he was sure you had adjusted properly, Tywin’s thrusts became a little rougher, shallower, and you could feel his cock drag over the sensitive walls then clenched tightly around it. He knelt up, dragging you further down the mattress as he rutted into you, skin slapping hard against yours as you wriggled, head tipped back to groan and cry out. Your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, and your noises steadily grew louder and louder despite your attempts muffle them. Tywin did not try to quiet you, relishing in the cries of passion he was able to draw from you. It gave him a sense of pride to know that his wife was in ecstasy, that his wife was taking her pleasure beneath him like she were a common harlot and he a lowly peasant. And most of all, he relished in the fact that you would soon have a belly full of his children, swelling with the continuation of the Lannister dynasty.

Tiger, Tiger I wanna squeeze you

Clutching onto any inch of his skin you could find, your back arched upwards off the bed as your nails dragged down his arms, you came with a lusty, broken cry, your entire being quivering around him as a sensation more intense than your previous orgasm washed over you. Tywin growled, letting out a low shuddering groan as he finished, and you felt the odd, yet erotic, sensation of his seed filling you to the brim.

All of my love I will give to you

Panting, twitching, and letting out soft whimpers, you fell back among the pillows as Tywin moved to your side. “Are you alright?” He asked you, pressing the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks, swiping away your fallen tears. You didn’t even realise you were crying, too distracted by your crashing release. You managed a small nod and a hum of reassurance as you slowly regained the ability to move. Already you felt your thighs aching, your core still throbbing. You could feel a bit of your husband’s seed slipping from your body, trailing lazily between your thighs. The rest, you knew, was deep inside of you. Tywin sat up, tugging the sheets back over you before laying back down beside you. You hummed contentedly as Tywin pulled you into his side, and you could feel his heart still pounding as you both settled into post coital bliss.

“Do you think... it’ll work?” You murmured, already nodding off as the room became dimmer, the candles close to their ends.

“What, that you’ll be with child after tonight?” When you have a slight nod, Tywin chuckled. “Part of me hopes so. As you’re aware, I am in desperate need of a suitable heir,”

“And the other part?” You whispered.

“The other part of me hopes that you don’t fall pregnant just yet...” you picked up on the suggestive edge to his voice, increasingly grateful for the darkening room as your eyes widened.

“If I don’t... if I’m not... then we will try again. Maybe even... recreationally,” you cringed inwardly at your own formality; the man had been balls deep in you only moments ago. “But I will do my best to fulfil my duties as your lady wife,”

“Hmm... and the lady of Casterly rock?” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Casterly rock too. On one condition though,”

But teach me Tiger or I'll teach you

Tywin arched his brows, not used to being given conditions.

“You treat me well. You obey your vows. You don’t treat me like a whore or a thing to fuck and throw away as soon as you’ve got an heir and a spare. You treat me as your lady wife. Protect me, guide me, and at the very least, try to love me. Because that is exactly what I will be doing for you,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen

[readerstories]

Magic Fingers - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

I got so many other ideas for fics with Aaron and male reader, this was just an excuse to write some “shorter” smut while I work on some longer fics. (AO3)

Warnings: smut, clothed sex

Wordcount: 2978

Summary: Working hard on a case you offer to give Hotch a massage, because the man is as stiff and tense as a block of wood. (And maybe you want to get your hands on him, but that’s neither here nor there).

The case had been hard, challenging, brutal, and difficult, which had caused the whole team to work on overdrive for the last few days with very little sleep. Which was why Hotch had ordered everyone back to the hotel to get some sleep, as none of you were going to get anywhere being as sleep deprived as you were.

He had tried to stay behind himself, but you had more or less dragged him back to a car while reminding him that even he was human and needed rest. Back at the hotel, in your shared room (because of course with your luck there wasn’t any single rooms left in the hotel for anyone in the team), you stretch before sitting down on your own bed, Hotch walking over to his.

You could see how tense he was, how much he needed to relax. Which was easier said then done when Hotch took as much responsibility as he did, always making sure everything possible was done to catch the unsub and save anyone who might get in harms way. Which was an admirable trait of his, but you could tell by his posture how stiff he had gotten over the last few days. The way he held himself spoke volumes to you, even though you knew he tried to shield it from the world and keep it to himself.

“Hotch?” He looks away from his jacket, the only item of his suit he has manged to force himself out of so far, while your jacket, shoes, and tie was long gone. You pat the edge of the bed next to where you are sitting, Hotch looks skeptical.

“Come on, you need to relax.”

“What does me sitting next to you have anything to do with that?”

“Let me give you a massage.” He raises a brow and you sigh, shifting so you’re kneeling on the bed instead.

“You’ve seen my resume, you know you I thought about going into massage therapy at one point.” Still, Hotch doesn’t move, so you know you have to do more to convince him.

“Remember when Reid had slept on his neck all wrong that one time after staying up way too late and I helped? Or when Morgan messed up his shoulder when going after an unsub and couldn’t sleep for days, and after a massage he finally could? It was the closest I’ve ever seen the man to weeping. Or when JJ was pregnant and hurting, but after letting me give her a massage she joked that if she didn’t love Will, and I wasn’t gay, she would have married me? Hotch, at this point I’ve given a massage to everyone on the team but you, so, get.”

You make a grabby motion with your hands. Hotch sigh, seeming to finally get how serious and stubborn you were being in that moment. He takes off his tie and shoes on the way over to the bed, but doesn’t do anything else, which makes everything a bit harder, but hey, you’ll take anything you’ll get. As Hotch sits down you’re greeted by the lovely opportunity to stare at his back without him noticing or caring too much, which would have been great, if you couldn’t tell how tense he was without even needing a single touch.

When you touch his shoulders he almost jumps, but he forces himself to calm down. Which doesn’t do much, because the instant your hands are on him you can tell it’s going to take a while and some effort to get him relax.

You slowly, ever so slowly start to move you hand, starting out gently at first to get a feeling for him. And ho boy, those are some serious knots if you’ve ever felt some. Your thumb barely brushes over one with some pressure and Hotch winces. You take a breath in trough your teeth, Hotch truly can’t be feeling any sort of pleasant right now, or really, ever you suppose.

“Hotch, if I really didn’t know any better, I would say your shoulders are made of wood with how stiff they are and how many knots I can feel.” Hotch grunts and starts to move like he’s about to stand up, but you drag him back down so he’s fully sitting again with your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh no, none of that, you’re not moving off this bed until all of them are gone and you can you know, actually be a little relaxed for once in your adult life.” Hotch scoffs, but doesn’t try to move again, which you count as a victory.

For the next, you don’t even know how long, your hands wander, squeeze, and press all over Hotch’s shoulders, loosing muscles and knots as good as you can while kneeling behind Hotch. Hotch is mostly quiet, only letting out sighs and the occasional grunt when an especially hard spot is made pliant.

When you’ve done as much as you can in this position you withdraw your hands, noting how Hotch is slumping slightly more forward now than he was when you started.

“Up the bed please, I can’t reach more like this.” Hotch turns so he can look at you over his shoulder.

“You’ve massaged my shoulders, what mor-”

“If your shoulders are any indication, you need a full body massage, so up on the bed please, front down.” You stare down Hotch, not breaking eye contact for one second. You’ve decided that he needs that massage, even if you have to tackle him to the bed to give it to him. He seems to have sensed this as he sighs, and above all miracles, does as you asked of him. He’s on his front, arms tucked under his head to use as a pillow, you now kneeling next to one hip.

Pleased with yourself, you get to work. You start where you left off from before, somewhere in the middle of his back. The knots there aren’t as bad as his shoulders, you suppose Hotch takes ‘bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders’ literally sometimes, but still you do your best to let your hands work over them until they are smoothed out and the muscles beneath your palms relax.

Over time your hands move downwards, and at some point right above the waist of his pants and his belt, your hands on either hip, they brush a particular point or points which make Hotch draw in a breath. Your hands pause before you speak.

“Sorry, you ticklish there?”

“A little.” Hotch reluctantly admits, mostly speaking at the wall he has been staring at for the last few minutes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You say as you file that little nugget of info away in a part of your brain you’ve dedicated to Hotch. You make sure to avoid that spot when your hands starts up again, instead moving to his lower back. There you find a knot truly worth your skilled hands, taking several minutes before you can move your hands from that spot. You realize you’ve accomplished your goal there when Hotch lets out a loud groan as you fell his muscles loosen beneath your hands, which you gather was an involuntary sound by the slight redness on his cheeks.

“See, I told you I was good.” Hotch doesn’t responds verbally, but nods, eyes closed now. You don’t say anything else, instead moving to his legs. You start at one ankle, slowly, slowly moving your way upwards, careful not to go to high for both of your comfort. You can tell when that is by a small twitch on Hotch’s leg, just above where you can feel the start of his boxers through his pants, and then you move down. You do however at on point press on a muscle on the backside of his knee that causes the leg to move on its own, which causes you both to laugh.

When both legs are done, you take your hands off Hotch and lean back, noting how his eyes are closed, almost like he’s sleeping.

“Turn around.” This causes Hotch to abruptly open his eyes and look at you for the first time since he laid down.

“What?”

“I haven’t done your front yet, and I’m not about to let you go with a half finished massage.”

“I-I’d rather not.” Looking over Hotch you quickly realize, with your profiling work and previous experience, why he’s not moving yet.

“If it’s an erection that’s nothing new.”

“Wha-”

“Your body is just reacting to stimuli, happens a lot with men, nothing I haven’t seen before. But if you really want to stop, we can of course do that.” You can see Hotch’s mind at war with himself. You say nothing, pretending that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall above the headboard.

It’s the movement of the mattress that alerts you to the fact that Hotch is moving, as the man himself says nothing. When you look at him, he has his arms over his face, jaw and mouth barely visible. What is very visible, is the erction pushing against the front of his pants, and though you would have liked to look, you only give it a glance. Hotch jumps when you touch his ankle again, but you don’t start just yet.

“Relax, like I said, nothing I haven’t seen before. Happens a lot actually, my hands are just that good you know, like a god or something.” Hotch huffs out a laugh, a smile briefly on his lips. You smile back at him even though he can’t see you, and then concentrate back on the task at hand.

Like before, you start at his ankles, working your way up. Hotch gets less tense almost by the second, breathing deepening as your hands work their magic once more. You don’t go very high on his thighs, actually now you’re lower than before, not wanting to make Hotch uncomfortable in any way.

Next is his hips, you start at the one closest to you and work your way up towards his shoulder instead of across his stomach. He still has his arms over his face, so you poke him in the bicep to get his attention.

“Arm please.” Hotch’s sigh is deep, but he moves his arm so you can take it. You’re gentle, well, as gentle as you can be while kneading out knots from tired muscles. His bicep is firm under your fingers, needing a lot less attention than his shoulders luckily.

When you’re done with that arm, you let it go, tapping on his other so he can move that of his face and switch it for the one you finished with. The angle of it is a bit awkward, and you probably should move for easier access, but honestly you can’t be bothered as you’re very close to being finished. However, your knee protests, telling your body that hey, moving is good as not to let limbs fall asleep.

But instead of doing the logical and probably better thing of getting of the bed and walking around, your tired brain decides to just move one leg over Hotch waist, intending to just move the other one over and after. Hotch draws in a slight breath at the motion and then something in your leg fails you, causing you to drop down on Hotch, putting most of your weight on top of Hotch’s crotch. Hotch moans out loud as his hands flies to your lower thighs and you go stock still.

“Fuck shit, sorry Hotch-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it-” Hotch draws in a deep breath and licks his lips as you worriedly watch his face. You’re mortified, you just dropped yourself on Hotch’s erection, holy fuck, shit.

It takes a few seconds to realize that you’re not trying to move of Hotch’s lap.

But Hotch isn’t trying to move you off either.

If anything, he’s keeping you there, a deathgrip on your lower thighs.

You take a few terrifying seconds to take stock of the situation before experimentally rolling your hips against Hotch. A flex of his fingers, but he does or says nothing as he stares at the ceiling. You on the other hand, is watching his face for any hint of what he’s thinking.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, and we’ll forget about it ever happening.”

“Ah, um, fuck, shit.”

Silence, one, two, three beats.

“Fuck, move.” You start to get off his, heart already dropping to your guts, but instead Hotch drags you down and rolls his hips against you. This time it’s you who gasps, as your own dick twitches in your pants with the feeling of Hotch grinding against you. Hotch throws his head back, eyes screwed shut.

You’re quick to find your balance and leverage by placing your hands on Hotch’s chest, grinding down, moving as best as you can with Hotch’s own movements. Hotch is letting out a few low moans, which you match with your own as you move and watch the adam’s apple on Hotch’s throat move as he swallows. You want to lean down and kiss his neck, but fuck, you don’t know if you even can kiss him, if he will let you.

Hotch answers that question for you, as just seconds later his eyes open and he moves so he can look at you, catching you staring at him.

“Ah fuck.” Before you can even ask, he’s sitting up. You yelp as the movement causes you to straddle his thighs instead, and then in seconds there’s a hand on the nape of your neck, and even fewer seconds later you’re kissing Hotch.

Fuck.

His lips are firm, but pressing against you with a desperation you’re sure to match. His hands on your hips, holding you hard. Your hands go into his hair, tugging him even closer of that is even possible at this point, which causes him to moan low into your mouth which holy shit, that is, fuck, you can’t even think anymore you think.

The world shifts around you then, and you find yourself on your back, Hotch’s erection pressed against your own. It feels so good, so big and firm, and you want to feel more of him, but you can’t muster the brainpower to do anything about it, so you just tug at his hair and grind against him. Hotch seems of the same mind, as he doesn’t move to do much more either, just moving his hips against yours while kissing you within an inch of your life.

Which should be ridiculous, because you’re both grown men almost fully dressed still, but fuck, that makes it even hotter you think. Or, you try to think, as your mind is mostly chants of ‘more, good, fuck, shit, hot’ over and over again, Hotch’s name thrown in the mix for good measure.

Hotch moves away from your lips, but doesn’t move far, instead peppering kissed down your neck on the little skin he can reach. You moan and gasp, moving one hand from his hair to his back, trying to press him even more against you.

“Fuck, shit, I’m close, so close!” You frantically confess towards the ceiling.

“Me too, me too.” Hotch breathes against your neck, one hand moving so he can unbutton your shirt and get his lips on your collarbone. He starts to suck and bite at a spot there, and that is what does you in. You come just seconds after your shirt is open for him, moaning loudly.

“Fuck!” You hear Hotch mutter against your skin, and then a mutter of your name as he comes, in a low baritone that you think you will remember for the rest of your life.

You lay there panting for several seconds, or perhaps minutes, you’re not sure, just a mess of limbs, most of Hotch’s weight on top of you.

It’s hot, in more ways than one, which is what forces you to push Hotch off you, to get some air. He goes willingly, flopping down on his back next to you on the bed. A few panting breaths before you both turn to look at the other, smiles, then laughter as the situation sinks in. You’re surprisingly the first to gain somewhat of a control over yourself, grinning as you speak.

“We just came in our pants, what are we, teenagers?” Hotch pushes his weight up on his elbows, wincing as apparently something pulls somewhere.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t feel like one.” Hotch smiles as you, which you return, letting your eyes wander all over him now that you can. His hair is standing in a million different directions, there’s a blush to his cheeks, his clothes are rumpled, a wet spot is forming on the front of his pants, and he looks as fucked and blissed out as you, and most certainly he, feels. You hum, your attention going back to his face.

“We should get cleaned up.” You state, which Hotch nods in response.

“I think you mean you should get us cleaned up. My legs feels like jello right about now.” You raise a brow and he grins.

“I think your massage turned off something in my legs.” You huff, incredulous, but sit up anyway.

“I’m good, but not that good.”

“Well, the sex certainly helped.” You laugh and lean down to give him a kiss, which is mostly smiling lips pressed against each other.

“Flatterer.”

“Hey, what can I say, you got magic fingers.” You smack his chest and laugh as you get up to go the bathroom, your own legs a little shaky, which Hotch doesn’t comment on, but you know he liked by the way he grins at you when you get back to the bed.