#glasses got lost in the shave

[pup-pee]

NO1 THINK 2 HARD ABOUT THIS IMG? OK? THNX.

og img;

[neonovember]

bucky barnes as a husband headcanon!

heavily inspired by my steve headcanons here, I wanna try my hand at writing more of james. he is the epitome of devotion, he falls first and falls hard.

this kind of takes part in an alternative au (think avengers are still together but its post the falcon and the winter soldier)

he is canonically good at cunnilingus

you think I’m joking? This man divulges into a rabid animal the second he gets close to your thighs. He is on his knees whilst your pressed up against the counter rubbing his face against your clothed crotch moaning and grinding in the air

he says if he could have gotten a taste of you while he was the winter soldier it would've required his brain and reversed the brainwashing

’to be alone with you’ - hozier is bucky’s song

like steve, he feels the isolation and ghost-like feeling of being lost in time. Brooklyn doesn't feel like home anymore, he constantly reaches for you, even in sleep because you are the thing he now belongs to.

you can never get used to how intense bucky just..stares at you. Every single moment of the day you'll just catch him watching you silently not saying a word. It wasn't creepy, no it had this protective almost darkness to it that was all consuming. At one of Tony’s parties, he’s watching you across the room with a glass in his hand or mysterious and shit. (probably thinking about when is a polite time to leave)

which is never because bucky just drags you both out of every gathering. Every goodbye is an Irish one

man bun bucky. That’s it.

lets you cut his hair when it gets to the point of covering his eyes. Sometimes his stubble too, thumb circling and grazes your thigh as you lean over him with a scalpel.

most of the team are still gobsmacked at how bucky justs..trusts you. Whether it be with a shaving, or jumping out of a corner. If any of the team tried to pull a knife on bucky he would probably (not) accidentally break their jaw

after missions all the Avengers know he’ll be offline for at least a couple days to be with you. What they don’t discuss is half of those days are fucking you bruised. He gets all pent up and irritated when he isn’t around you, it’s like you recalibrate his mood back to baseline regular bucky when he can finally sink into you.

doll, darlin’, honey

if you think steve is possessive…just exponentiate that to the power of 10 and you have husband bucky. Are we forgetting this man used to be the winter soldier? he's cute and adorable but also can be fucking horrifying. I’m talking blank face breaking a mans jaw cause he looked at you funny

very casual in his superhuman abilities to protect you. 

silky dulcet notes of etta james, the album sam had gifted you both playing as you cut up some root vegetables. It’s summer and the night is long and warm, and you and bucky are humming as you prepare dinner. You're twirling your hips, Bucky is leaning against the countertop, half trussing the chicken and the other watching you when he suddenly stops. You don't notice it at first, until he cocks his head to the side, kind of blinks and moves to turn the saucepan on low. You turn to him, and he grabs for one of the kitchen knives on the bench before reaching for you.

"there's someone in the backyard"

all nonchalant, like it had been a burrowing animal stuck under the floorboards. he motions for you to continue, turns up the record player a bit and walks into the backyard without a sound.

this man is touch starved, of course he is cock warming after. each and every time.

one of the things bucky loved about you is at ease he felt, he could talk to you and spill everything out in a way he never could with dr raynor or even steve.

there was a bit of distance from him when he first met you, he was awestruck, even more silent than he usually was. Just stared at you longingly, standing off to the side. he didn’t think he could be anything but feared, it genuinely got to the point where you thought he didn't like you or that you had done something wrong. when steve had told him this, he nearly died. no, i'd like to think he's heart stopped for a couple seconds seriously. than got up from fainting, took you aside, and kissed you against the back of sarah's backyard door on the fourth of july.

stations a few target practice posts in your backyard. teaches you how to shoot, chest pressed up against your back as he helps move your body in the right position. always make sure you know where the weapons are in the house

singing to records whilst he's cleaning said weapons at the table

takes you to all the places still standing he remembers in Brooklyn, you hold his hand and let him rest against your shoulder when the past gets caught in his throat.

Steve finds a place in the city with actual good music, where people actually dance, and it becomes your spot every Friday.

yeah, one thing bucky remembers would be his muscle memory of the dance floor, he’s goooood. Teaches you everything he knows in your kitchen of course, always ends up with you making out on top of each other though

dry humping like teenagers, bucky with his low hanging jeans, not wearing boxes and making a mess just from the taste of your mouth

actually, sometimes breaks down in tears when he realises you’re his wife. Like forever.

always thinking about you, what you're doing, if you've eaten. even if hes in the middle of recon you will be in the back of his mind.

leans over and loops his dog tags around your neck whenever he leaves for missions. kisses your eyelids when your sleeping and the fight calls him

the second time you and bucky visited Wakanda he had Shuri craft the ring to be fused into his vibranium finger..yeah I know.

bucky isn’t the extroverted talking type, but with you he is constantly just yapping..about anything and everything. Following you around the house like a puppy, coming to you for the answers about the new world and questions he always harboured even before the ice

bucky is hilarious, he's already an adonis, but he could laugh you of your pants

can’t bear fighting with you, he never yells. He just kind of goes quiet and takes a walk

you guys live in a house with a huge backyard and a wraparound porch

loves cooking, lets him turn his mind off sometimes and make you something hearty and warm. he has a frilly gingham patterned apron he wears and his curls are wrapped into a bun with your scrunchie. floor always ends up on his cheek, and you always end up on the kitchen bench with his mouth on you

night terrors had him sleeping in a sleeping bag next to the bed, he refused despite your attempts. Sometimes he'd wait till you fell asleep against him and make the heartbreaking quiet separation and sleep on the floor

sometimes likes to take of his arm around the house, especially sleeping. Keeps it near in case though, for you.

he’s thick everywhere…took an hour of foreplay minimum to get you ready for him. You both will never get used to each other, needing to take a moment of hushed gasps and groans when he first sinks in

the wedding was in Sams backyard in Delacroix, just Sam, Sarah, the kids and Yoshi and the team

fairylights wrapped around the spanish moss of hanging trees, soft jazz and hard liquor. Sarah’s seafood boil and a dance floor where bucky spends half the night with you there

dad!bucky on the other hand..now that is a different ballpark. wait no actually, just him when you're both expecting. let's not forgot when he stormed into the tower and broke through the office doors to ask why on earth tony had scheduled him a mission so close to the birth of your baby, tossing him his phone which was now crumbled heap of metal in the shape of his fists....(you were two weeks along)

[preqwells]

♡︎♡︎ SWEET.

simon riley x reader synopsis: you and your fiancé were settling in for the night, ready to go to bed until you insisted on doing a little skincare with him— he didn't know it'd bring about old memories. tags: fluff, slight angst/lots of comfort, mentions of blood word count: 1.8k

There you were again— another night of standing in front of the mirror, your menagerie of face products messily lined upon the white-marbled sink, the hum of a low fan serving as white noise as you got ready for bed. The bathroom’s humidity welcomed you, having just gotten out of a well-deserved shower. A white towel wrapped snugly around you as you reached your hand out to press it against the fogged glass, rubbing the condensation away in short and swift motions. You leaned over the sink in a feeble attempt to get closer to it, the edge of the sink poking at your stomach as your eyes squinted in concentration. An exasperated sigh left your lips, eyes daring to roll back into the back of your head out of sheer annoyance from the inconvenience. A sudden hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into its warmth as you jolted up out of surprise, your shoulders loosening once you put two and two together.

“Boo.” The gruff voice whispered, his voice reverberating from his chest into your frame. A huff of amusement escaped through his nose, seeming quite pleased with his ability to still catch you off guard doing such mundane things as taking care of yourself. He was met with a gentle elbow to his hardened abdomen, your elbow seeming to take more of the blow than him. “Rude, Simon.. I was busy!” You griped, reprimanding your fiancé for sneaking up on you when he was aware of how much you hated that. Years of military training seemed to only hone his stealth rather than diminish it, his tendency to loom in hallways and corners out of pure habit by now. “Uh-huh. Bet you were, love. Quite a shame.” Simon supplied simply, unphased by words that lacked any venom in them. He slipped past you with ease, extending his arm out towards the lid of the toilet seat, letting it fall as he took a seat atop it, legs spreading as he drank in your figure. Simon did this often, almost following you around like a lost puppy— dark eyes simply fixated on you and enamored with your movements. “I was! I was about to put on a face mask.” You said as your hand reached for a nearby packet, the small gray packet crinkling with each movement. Simon’s eyes narrowed in examination of the product, brows slightly furrowed as he took it from you without further hesitation, his eyes scanning it, practically burning holes into it. “Charcoal... paper mask. What s’all this for?” He asked with a hint of interest in his tone, his brows knitted in skepticism. He was aware of your interest in skincare, yet the topic remained foreign to him for the most part. He had no need for it although his skin was beyond needing care. A couple of ingrown hairs from messily shaving in the wrong direction, and purple under eyes that did anything and everything but blend into his skin. Skincare— what the hell does anyone need skincare for? Are soap and water not enough these days?

“It’s supposed to reduce oil by pulling blackheads out or something, I think.”

“Your skin’s oily?”

“Isn’t yours too?”

“Dunno. Just usually scrub the shit out of it and roll out of bed good as new...” He mused, rotating the packet between his index finger and middle, offering it back to you after he was done. Being in the military left little room to worry about the condition of his skin, the only liquid meeting his skin being water, sweat, and blood— his own... most of the time. It was a folly thought to think you believed he was informed about the condition of his skin, stifling a small laughter caught in his throat. You gently took it from him, attempting to rip the top of the plastic packaging off and absentmindedly setting it aside before an idea crossed your mind. Simon sensed this, his eyebrows slightly raised as interest peeked through his poker face.

“Si…” You began sweetly, your voice comically raising an octave in an attempt to persuade him. As predicted, Simon’s resolve slowly crumbled at the sweetness in your voice, mentally cursing himself for being such a sucker for you. “What is it?” He softly inquired, his head cocked slightly to the side as he awaited your words. “Would you want to try this with me?”

"Try what?"

"A face mask— don't act stupid."

"If I wanted to act stupid, I'd take notes from you, lovie."

"Oh, ha-ha." You stuck your tongue out at him, eliciting a huff of amusement from him. He remained quiet as he gently took ahold of your hand, getting your fingers to loosen their grip on the packet. His eyes scanned the foreign piece of plastic, reading the ingredients it contained. You caught his attention, moving closer to him as you pointed out the ingredients.

"These are just all the things it's mixed with. Niacinamide is supposed to help with oil reduction, the aloe is for calming inflamed skin..." You trailed off as you gestured for him to read the rest. He gave you a look that practically screamed, 'You don't need any of this', but he obliged in the directions you gave him anyway. Everything checked out with what you said, not that he'd doubt your knowledge. You always knew about little facts, odds and ends here and there-- maybe that's why you kept wiping the floor with him whenever you two would watch Jeopardy.

He inhaled deeply for a moment before letting the puff of air out through parted lips, finally giving you a nod of acknowledgment at your earlier offer. "Yeah, sure." He agreed, shrugging it off as if it were no big deal. The corners of your lips tugged to form a huge grin as he handed the packet back to you to rip open. You took a step forward between his legs, his dark brown eyes watching you with rapt attention. Pale eyelashes flicked up to trail your features as you struggled to open the packet, much to his delight. The shape of your lips, the way strands of your hair would fall into your face and catch against your long lashes that dropped over your eyes— Simon was by no means a saint, but God, did he want to be one for you. His hand found its way to your clothed hip, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric.

"Aha! Got it!" You threw your hands up in the air, fists clenched as you celebrated your small victory of getting the packet opened. "Ready?" You eagerly asked, practically teeming with joy. He stiffened slightly at your words, his eyes straying from yours for a moment. He didn't know what came over him— you had seen his face a thousand times, hell, it wasn't like he was wearing a mask now. Maybe it was the way that all these face products served as a reminder that he didn't have perfect skin. Better yet, it served as a reminder he was far from perfect himself. Scars littered his body, some from even when he hadn't been in the military— each scar on his body told a story, some nastier than others. "Yeah." He responded bluntly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. You were his fiancé and accepted him wholeheartedly— he knew that. Your relationship had been through hell and back to get to where you are now. Countless missions he had gone on that you were convinced he wasn't going to come back from, dreading the day that you'd only have his dog tag to remember him by. You were the only person he had left and gave a promise of coming back to— everything be damned if he didn't claw his way back to you every time.

You fished the paper mask out of the packaging that was soaked in product, his eyebrow twitching in curiosity about how it was going to be applied. "Close your eyes." You cooed as he stared at you for a moment before his eyelashes fluttered shut. Your expression softened as you straightened the mask before placing it over his face, the coolness of the mask sending a chill up his spine. You began smoothing out the mask with your thumb, delicately mapping out his features. His nose was crooked from the time he told you he broke his nose at age 18 for getting into some barfight at a local pub, which served as no surprise since you were well aware of his temper when it was directed towards others. Craters of acne scarring embedded into his cheeks from his nails digging at the painful hormonal acne he had suffered from until the ripe age of 22. The scar on his chin from when he had scraped it on a rock as a rookie in training for the military. All of what made Simon, Simon.

"You're handsome." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it." He replied, his voice mirroring yours. You gave him a weak smile as you shook your head, your thumb still smoothing down the edges of the mask. He always hid behind his cocky demeanor, vulnerability masked by his dry humor. "No, I mean it." You mumbled as a moment of silence fell between you two, filled by the low hum of the bathroom fan. His hand was still resting on your hip, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh blanketed by polyester. He didn't say anything in response, opting to say nothing as he blinked a few times, his gaze falling on a nearby bath towel that was strung up to dry. Even though his words failed him, you could've sworn you saw a hint of a smile threatening to grace his features.

The rest of the evening continued with him learning more about skincare, letting you ramble on about which products you were looking forward to getting in the future. Night fell as quickly as the evening ended, landing you two in the comfort of your shared bed. You fell asleep before he did, practically swallowed whole by the cotton blanket you two had picked out a week ago. Maybe it's too big, he thought to himself. His eyes landed on your sleeping form, watching as your chest rose and fell rhythmically. Your hair was sprawled across the pillow as moonlight filtered in through the curtains, almost giving an illusion of an aureole of light surrounding you— he could've mistaken you for an angel itself if he were half-asleep, honestly. He reached out for your hand, gingerly taking it in his as he admired the ring he had proposed to you with. His index finger grazed across the band of gold, the reality that you were his pulling at his heartstrings.

He fell asleep with you in his arms that night, peppering kisses to your temple before bringing his face down to rest in the crook of your neck with him tucked at your side. He wasn’t burdened by nightmares for the first time in a while— he dreamed.

banner credit: @/saradika

[aismoker]

Fairy-tale

A variation on a story

Red hung up his phone. That was his grandmother on the phone. She was sick... again. Red sighed. That old hag was basically "sick" every other week, coincidentally always when she was low on groceries. He knew she was faking it, that she was just doing it to check up on him, to show him who was in control. Red even suspected that she just got off on the power play. Red let it happen, he hated himself for it. He wished he could stand uo for himself, become the man HE wanted to be, but he felt most of the time that his grandmother was controlling his life. He was her little lapdog, rhat always came when she whistled. He couldn't help it. She was all the family he had and he felt obliged to take care of her. So he put on his red hoodie (the one his grandmother always said looked "so adorable" on him) and got on his bike.

It was already getting dark, so he drove as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he didn't see the glass on the road until it was too late. Within a few seconds both of his tires were completely empty. Red braked as hard as he could and almost fell off his bike. He stepped off his bike and checked if he could repair them.

It only took him one glance to see that he was screwed. His tires were ripped to shreds. He wanted to call a taxi, but unfortunately, there was no signal. He looked around to see if there was anyone on the streets to help him, but there was no one to be seen. He realized he was in the bad side of town. His grandmother had always warned him not to go there, but the neighborhood lied directly in between their houses. He again checked on his phone. Still no signal. He cursed. He didn't know what to do.

Then, all of a sudden, he heard a heavy rumbling sound. A motorbike was approaching. It drove past him, but then it lowered its speed and turned around and stopped a few meters away from Red.

The biker stepped off his bike and walked towards him. Red's mouth fell open. The guy that was approaching him seemed to come directly from his darkest, wettest dreams: shaved head, big bulging biceps, covered in tattoos of wolves and a big cigar in his jaws. "Got a problem, buddy?" "Y-yeah," Red stuttered, "I got a flat tire. Two, actually." The biker walked to the bike and looked at the tires. "I can see that. You need help with that?" "Y-yes, that... that would be great." Red blushed. There he was with the guy from his dreams and he stammered like a fool! The biker didn't seem to notice it, or at least he didn't show it. He walked up toward Red and said: "No worries, buddy, I will contact a buddy of mine and he will fix it in no time. In the meantime, follow me, you can have a drink with me and a few brothers while you wait." "Th-thanks, Red answered, that is amazing!" He wanted to walk to his bike to lock it, but the guy grapped said in a forceful, almost commanding, voice: "Just leave it there, buddy, your bike will be safe, you are in our territory." Red wanted to protest, but when he looked into the bikers golden, almost hypnotic eyes, his words got stuck in his throat. Those eyes... they were so big...

The biker put his arm around Red and softly but firmly guided him into a deserted alley, steadily puffing on his cigar, filling the air around him and Red. Red didn't mind the smoke. In fact, he felt weirdly comfortable... safe even. He didn't mind this strong bulging arm around him and subtly he started walking closer to the biker. "So, what's your name, buddy?" "My name is Red," Red said. "It suits your hoodie," the biker replied.

"Yeah... and what's your name?"

"Name is Wolf."

"Like your tattoo?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, I like your tattoos."

Wolf didn't say anything, but he pulled Red closer to him. Red shivered. His arms... they were so big...

They continued walking in silence. Red lost all sense of time. He was so wrapped up in the moment. Suddenly they came to a halt. Red looked up. They were standing in front of a bar called "The Wolf's Den". Wolf went inside, leading Red along.

As Red stepped over the threshold of the bar, it was like he stepped into another world. The atmosphere was hazy with smoke and the air was filled with a... musk? Yes, musk was the right word. It was very strong and made Red feel a bit dizzy, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Red looked around. The bar was small. There was only one table. Around it sat four men, all looking like Wolf, all having similar tattoos as Wolf and smoking the same cigar as Wolf.

Wolf walked towards them, greeted them and introduced Red to them. Four pairs of golden eyes stared at Red. Red greeted them meekly. They kept looking at him. Red felt like he was a rabbit, being watched by troop of hungry wolves. One of the men broke the silence and asked Wolf: "You think he has it?" Wolf laughed. It almost sounded like an animalistic growl. "Oh, he deffinitely has it. He reeks of potential." Red didn't understand what they were talking about, but all of a sudden, the demeanor of the men changed. They started laughing and it was as if the earlier moment had not happened. They made room for him on the couch. "Come sit with us, buddy, we are glad you are here. Wolf will get you a drink!" Red sat next on them on the couch. The smell of smoke and musk grew stronger. It was as if it pervaded his mind. Thinking was getting harder. Red already had forgotten about the episode that had just happened in front of his own eyes.

A few seconds layer Wolf put a glass in front of him and sat next to him, closer than Red was normally comfortable with. "Here, buddy, drink it. It will make you feel better." Red had not a clue what was in the glass. Normally he would never accept a strange drink from a stranger he had met in the streets. But he had had a shitty day and he wanted to act like someone he usually was not, so he raised his glass. "Cheers!"

The men around him answered it and they all took a deep swigs of thwir drinks, Red included. The drink went down smoothly and Red could fwwl a warmth spreading through his body. But thatvwas not the only thing Red felt. It was as of the drink awoke something in him. Something Red had never known that was there. Something wild, something... animalistic.

Wolfbintroduced all the men. They were all called Wolf. Red thought it was a bit strange, but he didn't question it. The men started talking with Red. They asked him about his life and Red told them everything, even about his grandmother that dominated his life and how he hated it. That was a thing he had told no one, but somehow, he felt completely comfortable to twll Wolf and his brothers his deepest secrets. Of course it helped that his glass was non-stop being re-filled and he kept drinking.

After a while, Red started feeling warm. Wolf noticed in and said: "Why don't you get rid of that "adorable" hoodie? You don't need it, do you?" Red agreed, he pulled his hoodie over his head, taking the t-shirt under it along. As he wanted to pull the t-shirt back, Wolf said: "Leave it off, you are among brothers." This made perfect sense to Red and so he took the shirt off too and just dropped it along with the hoodie on the floor under the table. As he leaned back, he found that Wolf had put his arm there. He turned his head towards Wolf. Wolf just winked and blew out a cloud of smoke directly into Red's face. Red felt suddenly a wave of horniness wash over him and he couldn't surpress a moan. The moan sounded more like a growl. The other men looked at each other with knowing grins. Wolf pulled him in closer and Red nestled himself close against him. The conversation continued like nothing had happened. Even though Red didn't understand everything he heard, he was completely invested in it. As he reached for his glass glass, he saw that his arm looked strange. His arm looked bigger, more muscular and it seemed there were vague patterns on it, like tattoos. He shrugged it off. He probably had too much to drink, but he didn't care.

After a while, Wolf had finished his cigar and lit up a fresh one. Red looked at Wolf lighting the cigar. He couldn't pull his eyes away from it. Wolf noticed it. "You want to give it a try?" he asked. "N-no, thanks," Red replied, "I don't think it is my thing." Wolf grinned. His golden eyes glowed brightly, holding Red in his gaze. "But it could be. Look around, do you think we were born like this? No, we were like you, but we decided to let our wild side out, our inner wolves. You want that too, don't you. Be wild... be free... be a wolf." Red couldn't deny it. He wanted it. Wolf sensing Red caving in, brought the cigar to Red's mouth. Red, still looking into Wolf's eyes, opened his mouth. Wolf placed the cigar carefully into Red's mouth. Red felt his lips wrap around the cigar. "Now breathe in. You will love it, I promiss you." Red did as he was told to. As the smoke entered his lungs, Red felt like firework went off in his body. The animalistic feeling that had been stirred out of its slumber when he had had his first drink and had been steadily growing with every next drink, seemed to suddenly have bewn awakened. Red felt euphoric... no he felt alive! Like he could run all night and howl to the full moon!

Ted took the cigar out of his mouth and exhaled his first lungfull of smoke. He looked at the cigar in his muscular hand, covered in tattoos. A small voice in his head said this wasn't right. But another, stronger voice -the voice of the animal- shouted that it was right. That this was what he was meant to be. That this was who he really was. Red grinned and took another deep drag. Indeed, this was who he was meant to be. He looked at the men around the table. They stared at him with hunger in their eyes. This time, Red didn't feel uncomfortable. He now understood what they were feeling...and he felt the same.

Red suddenly heard Wolf's voice whispering in his ear. "I told you, you would love it, didn't I?" Red, fewling the warm smokey breathe of Wolf in hus neck, shivered. He could only let out a growl. "You want to feel like this forever, don't you. You want to be free... no longer constrained by the ties that bind you now. You want to be wild... an animal... You want to be our brother, part of our pack." Red was by now completely in ecstacy. Yes, he wanted it. He needed it. He needed it ALL. "Yes," he panted, "YES!"

"I thought so. In order to become part of the pack, we all need to share our essence with you. So, take your pants off." Red eagerly did as he was told. The small voice in hisnhead was shouting that he was crazy, but he didn't care. Wolf and thebrest of the pack did the same. When Red saw their cocks, he had to swallow. Their cocks... they were so big...

Wolf saw it and reassured Red, that they wouldn't hurt him. He then turned him around and guided him on his knees. A brother aligned himself to Red's hole and slowly started to enter. It didn't hurt, but Red felt how his ass stretched around the humongous cock. He clenched his teeth around the cigar and started inhaling the smoke deeper. Wolf, kneeling in front of Red, encouraged him, : "Yes, yes, smoke harder, deeper. It will help you relax!" And it did. It was like hisbass started to suck Wolf's cock in, welcoming it. Wolf was now completely inside him and started picking up thenpace. Red fell into the rhytm. Every trust flooded his body with pleasure. It added to the pleasure the cigar was giving him. The pace went up and up. Tension built. Red growled in pleasure, just like brother who was riding his ass. Then all of a sudden, the guy started howling and Red felt how streams of cum filled his ass. "Welcome, to the pack, brother," the guy said as he carefully went out of Red. He planted a kiss on his mouth. Red was in a daze. It felt like the seed of his brother strengthened the animal, the wolf, inside him.

Red had little time to think, as the next guybhad already lined up and slided his cock inside Red. The same ritual happened. Then came the next and the next. With each load, the wolf inside him grew stronger and stronger, devouring his old self. Moreober, he felt a bond with the guys thay had just fucked him, like they were his real brothers.

Atblast, Wolf stood behind Red. "Are you ready to becone one ofbus? Are you ready to become part of the pack?" "YES!" That was all Wolf needed tonhear. He rammed his cock deep inside Red. Red inhaled deeply on the now almost finished cigar. Not out of pain, but out of pure intense bliss. Wolf pounded him long and hard. Red felt his own cock grow bigger and harder than it ever had been. The tsmpo went up even more and Wolf went deeper and deeper into him. Then, at the moment Red thought he would pass out, he heard Wolf shot: "ARE YOU READY TO BECOME PART OF THE PACK, BROTHER? THEN LET YOUR OLD SELF GO!" And he howled. And he shot his load. Not just a normal load, volley after volley went deep into Red. Red, no longer able or willing to contain himself, took one last deep drag of his cigar and started cumming. As he exhaled the smoke, he hesrd himself howl with Wolf. Im fact, the whole pack was howling.

After what seemed to be an hour. Wolf stopped cumming and so did Red. But was he still Red? He looked down at the puddle of his cum. There were the last remnants of Red, his old self. He was now someone else... something else. He looked uo and saw himself in the mirror. A pair of brightly shining golden eyes looked back at him. He looked at himself in the mirror. Gone was his boyish features, his lanky frame and floppy brown hair. Instead he saw a strong bald man, covered intattoos. A tattoo of a wolf's head proudly on his chest. He grinned. From ow on, he would go by "wolf", just like his brothers.

He was helped up by a brother and another gave him a biker vest with his new name on it. "Thanks, brothers", the new Wolf said, while accepting a cigar that was handed to him by a third brother. He lit up the cigar as if he had done it a million times and as he exhaled, he continued: "I will have to return the favor... to all of you." The brothers cheered and howled and new Wolf couldn't help to let a howl out as well.

"Not just yet, brother," Wolf, the one who had lead him to the Den, said, "I have a surprise for you." He led the new Wolf outside. "We have fixed your bike." As they came outside, new Wolf didn't see his former self's bicycle. Instead he saw a motorbike like Wolf's one. "You can't be part of the pack without one of these."

New Wolf was astounded. His cigar almost dropped from his mouth. Then an animalistic grin crept on his face and his golden eyes started shining brightly. He took a deep haul of his cigar and he pulled his brother in closely. "I am so gonna fuck you, right here, right now, brother." He then started kissing Wolf with a passion that even surprised himself. He felt his brother's cock swell again and heard him growl in horny bliss." With effort, Wolf broke off the kiss. He said, panting: "Not yet, brother. You first have to cut the last ties to your former life. So, let's make a visit to grandma. You can fuck me right in front of her, showing that hag your new self."

New Wolf grinned as he mounted his bike. Wolf followed suit. "Good idea, brother," new Wolf said, as he started the engine, "let's show her I am no longer her little lapdog." The brothers drove away. The sound of the engines mixed with their howls, leaving behind a trail of cigar smoke.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts.  Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts.  Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying.  ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair.  You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze.  Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other. 

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy.  Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway.  It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught. 

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers.  "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously.  Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night.  Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy.  Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug. 

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures. 

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

[starboykel]

an artist and his muse ⭑⚝

artist! König x chubby!F!reader

!!content warnings: nudity, suggestive but nothing happens, Konig is slightly cold and rude, shaving, reader is described as 'plump' 'chubby'. Slow burn.

3,6k words — english isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes !

You were the daughter of a model, your father in his youngers was a famous model, modelling for artists and his body was practically all over Austria, in paintings, portraits, movies, you name it! Every slightly artistic place you went he was there. He was more famous in Austria than internacionally but he was still famous, a bunch of people would recognize him even in a small country, that was sure... And you were an introvert.

You didn't liked the attention, how everyone's eyes were always on you, trying to interview you, to get into your personal life and invading your space. You never meet your mother and the fact you looked a lot like your father didn't helped, apparently, you mother was an immigrant that got deported back to her country and her DNA was nowhere to be found... So you lived all your life with your father, Anton. You were half Austrian and half whatever your mother was, you didn't looked like an stereotypical Austrian girl, that was sure but you also didn't fit any other stereotype, making your beauty unique...

One thing was sure, the few genes that were in your body from your mother made a difference. While you father was more muscular, you were more plump, chubby. You father never bodyshamed you but he did made your exercise but you could never lose the weight, you weren't unhealthy you just... Couldn't change your body and surgery was out of question, your father never needed one, why would you?

One day, you decided to try modelling. Starting at something small since you didn't liked the spotlights, you model for a local clothes store that were looking for bigger model and just your last name made them immediately accept you. You just took a few photos and done, you made great money and was happy.

You decided to buy something sweet before going back home, you get inside a ice-cream parlor and orders your favorite milkshake and some donuts. You sit down on one of the comfy pink chairs and starts eating... Then, this wall of a man walks in, he had a long wavy ginger hair, a tired expression and glasses on, he was handsome, you can't deny it. He orders some sundae and sits down, waiting.

He takes off a sketchbook and starts sketching some poses and expressions. You decides to be nosy and peeks on it but he notices and closes the notebook, "oh sorry- I'm...I was just intrigued... Sorry." You apologizes, thinking you might have made him uncomfortable but then his sundae is ready and he stands up to grab it and then walks out of the parlor. You sigh and goes back to your donut.

You finished and just then you noticed, the man had forgotten his sketchbook. You grab it and opens it, he had a lot of drawings there, that man had so much talent, hot and smart? That's your type. His signature was almost unreadable but you can make a few letter out of it and assumes its something along the lines of 'König'... Well, king. You assume it's just a nickname, a bunch of artists has those artistic names just to be easily recognized and such. You liked how that sounds, 'König'...

You grabbed his sketchbook and starts walking around the city, looking for him but you couldn't find him anywhere, he could've took an Uber and already be in another city and you were there, with his random guy sketchbook... You take a closer look and finds at one of the last pages, 'If lost — call (xxxxxxxx)' and then a phone number. You dial the number on your cellphone and after a few seconds, it's accepted.

"Hello?" "Hello, hm... Is this König?" "Ja." You gulps, this man had only spoke two words and you were already falling in love with his deep voice.

"Uh... You were at the ice cream parlor earlier and you forgot your sketchbooks, I'm waiting here on front of it, I'm with it." You explains and it goes silent for a while. "Scheisse..." Then, he hangs out, leaving you confused. You assume he's coming, so you stay there.

...

You get distracted by your phone, spending time on whatever social media you were until you heard a raspy voice behind you, "Hey." You jump in surprise, looking at the guy behind... It was the big guy, "oh hey..." You replies and he reaches out for the sketchbook, in which you give him.

You two stare at each other until you can see him frowning under the mask, "You're... Anton's daughter?" He questions and you nods, his eyes widen slightly. "Mein gott... You're identical to him." He says, a bit amazed, you were beautiful but he thought you would be somewhere else, at a fancier ice cream parlor, where the ice creams would be so expensive a commoner like him wouldn't never even feel the sweet taste of the cold dessert... But you were in front of him, at a mediocre at best ice cream parlor, looking up at him with your pretty eyes.

"Everyone says that, you're not the first." You spoke, smiling up at him. "Oh by the way, what's your name? I saw here that is König but-" "Call me that." "Uh?" "König... My name is König." He interrupts you a few times, making you chuckles. "Well... You aleady know my name." You replies and he nods, "Who doesn't?" He jokes and laughs softly, making you giggle.

You look up at him. He wasn't an ugly guy, no, he was quite handsome actually, his smile was even prettier, the scar on his lips was such a charm and his tired eyes were so hypnotizing... You noticed you were staring for too long and looks back down, blushing slightly, getting embarrassed. "Sorry- I-i...I'm just intrigued, you're so tall and big." You excuses, gesturing confused, trying to explain yourself. He shakes his head, "I don't care." He says, a bit harshly, "I need to go, delete my number. Bye." He starts walking away before you could say goodbye back and question why he wanted you to delete his number... But you do as what he asked.

⚝

A few weeks passed by after the unusual encounter with the scary big artist guy at the ice cream parlor. You went to that same ice cream parlor practically everyday after modeling but he never came back.

One day, you were walking in the park, just looking around, petting some cats here and there, watching the ducks swimming and then you notice that same guy, with a canvas, painting the lake with the duck. He had his hair tied back this time, he notices you at the other side of the lake and looks at you for a moment before going back to the canvas. You quietly approached him, you weren't the only one watching him paint, 2 or 3 more people watching, one of them with a child but you were the only one there when he finished, at 6pm.

He stares at it. He doesn't look like someone that likes what he sees as he frowns slightly. "I think it looks good." You steps in, looking at the painting, a gentle breeze passing by, making you shiver, "oh, I forget how cold Austria can be sometimes..." You says, a bit embarrassed. He doesn't even look at you as he keeps eyeing the canvas, trying to figure how what he did wrong. He stares at it for a few minutes until it clicked... The ducks, he forgot the ducks but it was already late and he had to come back tomorrow to try again. He starts packing his thing while you rambled, he wasn't even paying attention. He walks away without looking at you.

"Rude..." You sighs and whispers to yourself until another cold breeze comes and you start running back home desperately.

Your father was at the living room when you got back home, "You forgot your hoodie?" He says, not taking the eyes out of the book he was reading, "I didn't know it would be that cold today." You replies. "It was all over the news, tonight it's a snow night." Your father says and before you could reply, he interrupts, "The bathtub it's filled with warm water, go take a shower, you smell bad." He complains. You rolls your eyes and goes to the bathroom.

You grab your cellphone before stepping into the bathtub, you always liked listening to music while cleaning yourself — even if your father complained —, you put on your favorite playlist but then, you receive a message. It was the clothe store you modelled for the last time.

"Hey, are you free next weekend? We need you to model some new skirts, shirts and sweaters for our winter season." It reads, you reply with a 'yes' and they send you the informations about the time and place.

⚝

The week passed by like a minute and it was already the weekend. You got ready for the photoshoot, took a shower, the hairstylists fixed your hair and you went to try on the new clothes, they were cute and really warm, the skirts had warm shorts sew on them, making a good job on protection and keeping the person warm, the sweaters were cute and really, really warm, the long sleeved shirts had a cute print on it. The photoshoot was at the park, they closed an area of the park so you could take the photos, you were really nervous since a lot of people were watching you pose and the snow was making everything harder, the cameraman having to often clean the lenses even with the lense protection because the thin snow was getting underneath it.

Everything went well, the photos were pretty, you were amazing and the clothes were ready to be sold, you even got a few of them! You were getting ready to leave the park when someone approached you... It was the big guy from a few days ago. He just... Stared at you, he hands you a paper and then walk away, he didn't even ran, he just... Simply, walked away, leaving you confused.

You opened the paper and it was... A bunch of sketches of the poses you were making during the photoshoot and a big sketch of you, even the smallest detail of the skirt and oh god, how did he made the sweater look so comfy with just a bunch of lines? Your eyes were practically shining, impressed by the amount of details. You noticed a phone number on the back of the paper, 'call me.' it says. You think for a moment and puts the paper on your backpack carefully.

⚝

It was 10pm when you got home, exhausted. The day was filled with you and the editor of the magazine of the clothe store, he was a new guy there and was always asking for your feedback, the only problem was that he talked a lot! He was talented, amazing, but he just couldn't shut up for a minute and you had to listen to his annoying rambling for hours to the point you started having a headache.

When you got home, you took some headache meds and took a warm shower, cleaned your hair and put on your pajamas. You practically jumped on the bed, the warm temperature of your room making you immediately fall asleep.

⚝

You woke up at 7am Went to the kitchen and you found a note, from your father, 'I went to Mödling, gonna meet a woman. Take care of yourself. There's money on my room, be safe and smart.' it wrote. You rolls your eyes and sighs, your father was always like this, went to another place, minutes, hours or even days away just to meet someone, it always annoyed you but you couldn't do anything, you're in your 20s and he was in his 50s, changing him wasn't easy and he absolutely loved his car, you think he loves that car more than he loves you... But at 7am?! He was crazy.

Anyway, you made some breakfast for yourself, something simple as you were just going to stay at home today. You were planning to just lay around and watch TV the whole day, you really wanted to watch that new series on Netflix... But then you remembered the paper the big guy gave you and the number on it. You decided to message him while you ate, not really thinking he would answer you, it was 7am after all...

'Hey, it's Anton's daughter, the model girl :) how are you?' you sends and then goes back to eating.

It took a few minutes but he texted back, 'hey'... Dry and simple as always. You two texted for a few minutes until he eventually went straight to the point.

'i need a model and I saw you at the park, you're perfect for what i want to do, how much do you ask for an hour?' He sends, you were taken by surprise, he wants you to model for him? Yeah, sure, whatever, that's what it's paying for bills for a long time now. 'how much are you willing to pay?' '€30/hour.' you think for a moment, €30 is fine but you don't know how long it is going to take... So you ask. 'How long it would take?' '4-5 hours.' oh wow, that was a quick response, he probably already has all your questions answered and you're just wasting your time now.

'when and where?' 'today at 10am, at the local museum, i have a room for myself there, it has cameras, you can call a friend if you want if it makes your feel safer with me, I just want to get my work done.' another quick response, you send him a thumbs up and he answered with an 'okay'.

You finished eating, washed the dishes, did your bed, organized the living room and took a shower, you don't often shave but you decided to shave your legs, arms and armpits. Exfoliating your skin gently and then using the soft razor that was like a massage on your skin, soft and gentle, then moisturizing with a cream for post-shave that smelled so good you were addicted.

It was 9:40am, you got dressed with something simple, simple jeans short, a white shirt and some comfortable shoes and socks, everything so simple that if someone saw you at the streets they couldn't even know your dad is one of the most famous men in Austria. You got into your bike and starts riding to the museum while listening to some music.

You arrived at the museum at 9:57am, took off your headphones and headed inside, König was there, waiting for you. You two looked at each other. "Hey." You says and he motions for you to follow him. He leads you to a backroom, filled with art supplies such as empty canvas, paints, a bunch of brushes, chair and such.

He takes a deep breath, "take off your clothes." He says, shocking you. Like, you don't even know his real name and he wants to see you naked?... Yeah, sure, that's what being a model means. You nods and takes off your clothes, staying on your bra and panties. He stares at your body for a moment but it doesn't look like he's looking at you lustful or like something sexual but rather as something to be studied and adored. He nods and explains you how to pose.

He sits you in the edge of a chair, putting your hands on your knees, 'the palms down' he repeats, tilting your head a bit to the left side, letting your hair fall in your shoulders, placing the right leg over the left one and arching your spine a bit.

After 40 minutes or so, you couldn't tell the time, you started to get bored, he wasn't talking to you and making small talk was useless, that man was concentrated and didn't want to talk. "Hey." You say and he doesn't even look at you, "hey... Heeey!!" He then looks at you, sounding a bit frustrated, "what?" "Can you turn the TV on? I'm bored." He sighs and turns on the TV, putting on a random sitcom. It was good, too good, you starts chuckling and giggling at the bad jokes, smiling and probably ruining the neutral expression he wanted you to keep.

He shakes his head, "You seem to be enjoying yourself." He commented, not leaving his eyes out of you and the canvas. "It's not everyday i pose practically naked for an artist i met at an ice cream parlor." You answered and he even smiles a bit.

"Thats true." He replies and continues on the painting, after a few minutes, you opened your mouth again. "Do you work with your art?" You asks, he nods, "I do commissions, people pay me to paint then and I have my own little exhibition on the museum." He replies, brushing the canvas talentedly, seeming a bit more good humored.

"Do you paint a lot of naked people or is it just me?" You asks, smiling and König laughs a bit. "I've had my fair share of naked paintings, you're not the first one and probably not the last." He laughed but it didn't last long until his cold expression came back. His expressions change so quickly it's actually impressive.

⚝

You were getting tired, your butt was hurting of sitting down on that goddamn chair for so long and your hand was itching and the sitcom was getting bored, how long has it passes? 2 hours, 3 hours? Before you could fall asleep, König speaks, "We are gonna do a pause now, it's..." He looks at the clock, "It's 1pm, I'm gonna get us some lunch. Put your back on if you wish." He stated and put the brush and palette he was using on the table next to the canvas. You grab your clothing and puts it back on, it was good to put your clothes back on, you stepped outside and... Oh, it was snowing again and you didn't had your hoodie with you, damn.

You followed König to a cafeteria, it was a simple and cute little place with not a lot of people and a cheap selfservice. You got just spaghetti and orange juice and König... His plate was a mess, honestly, and he was drinking water. You decided to start some small talk, "How old are you?" You ask. "32." He replied, more focused on eating than answering you, you nodded, taking the hint that he doesn't want to talk but at least now you know his age. And you two got back to the museum after eating at 1:40pm.

⚝

Hours passed by like a minute and all of a sudden, he was finished with the painting and you were tired and it was just 5pm! He grabbed the canvas to the outside to dry while you put your clothes back on and drank some water. You went outside to the garden, where he was with the painting and you finally got a look at the canva... It was amazing, beautiful, you were mesmerized, your eyes shining but then, the cold breeze hits you again, slapping you out of your state, "Oh, shit-" you complained, hugging yourself to keep warm.

König looks at you and sighed, he approached you and took off his jacket and wrapped it around you, "I'll take you home. It's not safe to ride a bike in the snow." He says and leads you outside, you nods and follows him, putting on his warm jacket. He opens the car's door to you, what a gentleman.

You tell him his address and he starts driving, the bike on the car trunk, the warmer of the car keeping you two warm and a music coming out of the radio. It took a few minutes to get home and you the two of you got there, what was just a simple snow turned into a snow storm, you didn't thought twice when you insisted to visit him inside... But he refused.

"I can go home. I'll be fine." He insisted, "No, c'mon, I'll make some coffee for us, I- "I said no." He says, as cold as the snow, he walks away like the first time you two meet at the ice cream parlor. You were frustrated, all of that, he saw you naked, he payed for your food, he drove you home and he wouldn't let you return the favor? "Rude!" You shouts and he turns back to you, looking a you frowning, "What's wrong with you? I just want to help! It's a snow storm, you're gonna get stuck in the snow! Let me return the favor, König!" You shouts, the sound of the wind muffling your voice slightly. He seemed to think for a moment when he starts walking back to you and get inside your house.

König took a deep breath and looks at you as you locked the door and took off your shoes. "Why?" He asks and you looks up at him, "what-" "Why are you helping me? Why do you care?" He interrupts, sounding a bit desperate, damn, who hurt this man? "I couldn't let you freeze outside, you'd die." You replies, turning on the warmer. It was just 6:30pm and you were hungry and delivery was out off limit so you would have to cook. He nods and sits down on the couch, looking nervous.

You went to the kitchen and starts to cut some vegetables, he quietly walks behind you, "can I help?" He offered his help and you give him the meat, "Cut it, season it with salt and add it to the oil in the frying pan." You practically ordered, focused on the vegetables. He does as you asked, you two talk while cooking and you discovered a few things about him. He was single, served the army for 10 years, was an only child and was allergic to peanuts and some other things. His smile was beautiful and his long hair falling on his broad shoulders was so handsome... He was handsome!

You and König sat down to eat looking at each other, "Hm- you put too much salt on the meat." You commented and he smiles, "sorry." He apologizes. You two eat mostly in silence and it was already 7:50pm when the plates were empty and the dishes were clean. You helped König organize the guest room for him, finally fixing the broken warmer of the room with his help, you gave him a disposable toothbrush and grabbed a few clothes from your dad so König could shower.

It was 9:20pm, König was sleeping and you were on your room... Feeling a warm sensation on your chest, it was love, it was obvious but you don't know if he loves you back, he was so hard to understand, difficult to read. You took a deep breath and tried to relax, you fell asleep after some long minutes.

⚝

You woke up at 8am and went to the living room, you saw König getting ready to leave. He looks at you, "Hey." He says, "Thank you for letting me sleep here tonight." He added, you nods. You approached him and gives him a hug, "Be safe out there, okay?" You says and he returns the hug, in a bold movement, he kisses you forehead and smiles, "Bye... Can you open the door?" You nods, blushing slightly, you open the door and steps ouside, the snow practically melted, he waves at you and smiles, "Bye!" You waves back, smiling and blushing. You close the door and sighs happily, your heart beating fast, your face red and a dumb smile on your face.

Well, you have things to do, so it's best to forget him for now. For now.

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

Askbox is open!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Friday! (again)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It takes until noon to get yourself together. The world around you feels disconnected and hazy, beyond your reach. You just want to hide from the chaos your life has become, but you know you can't do that. Bucky says as much, telling you to take it all in small steps. The first; get your car.

You slump in the passenger seat of Bucky's range rover, arms folded over your fraught stomach. Never again. It's never worth it, even if it lets you forget. You just have to remember it all the next day, all while feeling shitty as hell.

He pulls up in front of Harry's house and you slowly sit forward to look around him. You gulp and fish out your keys, the jingle making you wince. You blow out a breath and undo your seat belt.

"Should I come with you, doll?" He offers, one hand on the wheel.

You look at him. His long hair is draw back into a ponytail at the back of his head, a few strands dangle loose to his chin. His square jaw is speckled with dark stubble and few patches of silver. His steely blue eyes shine as his plain white tee and blue jeans offer a perfect canvas for his easy allure. The way he looks at you makes it hard not to notice how handsome he is.

"No, no, I'll just go get my car and follow you back to your place. Should be easy."

You pull the door handle before you can lose your nerve. You're grateful for Bucky's help but you need to do this on your own. He can't coddle you and you can't expect everything from him. You don't want to be in this situation ever again; cast out and lost.

You get out and gently shut the door. You round the front of the tall rover and push your glasses up your nose. You cross the street, tucking your hands in your pockets as you keep your shoulders curled and head down. You cross the pavement and head up the tarmac, stopping short as you catch sight of your car.

Your mouth falls open as you gape at the mess strewn across it. Shaving cream streaks the hood and roof, toilet paper draped over it in tangled strips, and eggs smashed into the worn paint. As you get closer, you notice the only blank patch is keyed with the words 'dumb bitch'. You stare stunned at the desecration of your only possession.

You shake your head and don't look up at the house. You can guess it was probably Harry and his friends. This is the type of stuff the got up to in high school and these people made it clear that you're an outsider. 

You near the car and grab a few strips of toilet paper, pulling them off and wadding them up as you try to wipe off the yolk and half-melted cream. Some of it's caked on after sitting for at least half the night. You sigh and focus on just tearing the tissue off. You can hit a car wash but you don't know what you'll do about the scratches.

As you scrape off what you can, you hear a door and sense a shadow. Harry's laughter rattles in the afternoon sun and you ignore him as you toss clumps of cream and toilet paper onto the ground. You unlock the door and he catches it from the outside, holding it in place.

"Do you get the hint now?" He asks darkly.

"Leave me alone," you tug on the door and it doesn't budge.

"Naomi is better than you. You're just some stupid nerd who doesn't know her place. The only reason Peter was interested is because he wants to make MJ jealous--"

"I don't care--"

"You're too boring for her," he sneers, "so better go off back to your corner and cry, little girl."

"Frig off," you spit at him, "and let go!"

You try to jerk the door away and he just snickers again. You bear your teeth in frustration and roll your eyes. If he wants you gone, why won't he let you go?

"She helped. The eggs were her idea," he taunts. You don't care if she did or not, her loyalties are clear enough. You saw them last night.

"Hey," Bucky's voice rips through your standoff and you turn as he storms up the driveway. "Back up, jackass."

"Jesus Christ, not this geezer," Harry snarls.

"Yes, this geezer," Bucky barks, "go inside before I show you what an old man can do."

"Whatever, bro."

"Whatever," Bucky stomps past you and stops only inches from Harry, looming over him, "I'm up for whatever you choose, boy."

Harry huffs and curls his lip. He raises his hands and takes a step back, "you're not worth the trouble."

"Sure," Bucky keeps his shoulder in front of you, blocking you in, "go on and run back to your posse of dumbasses."

Harry waves him off and turns on his heel, slides flopping under him as he tramps like a toddler back to the house. You shudder and look at Bucky as he turns to you. He rests his hand on the top of the door.

"You alright, doll?" He softens his tone.

"Yeah, fine, he's just dumb."

"Mm," he looks past you, "assholes. Let's get this thing cleaned up and--" He pauses and shifts away, bending to examine the message etched into the paint, "hmmmmm," he growls, "good thing I know how to buff this stuff out." He stands straight, hands on his hips, his pose accentuating his chest and biceps, "you want me to drive this thing till we get it washed or--"

"No, no, it's okay," you murmur, "I just wanna get out off here."

"Sure thing," he tries to smile but his cheek ticks as his eyes drift angrily to the house, "don't let appearances fool you, there people are trash."

🌞

When you get back to Bucky's, he unfolds a lawn chair and points you to it. There's little argument to be had as his anger has you tongue-tied. You know it's not directed at you but you can feel it steaming off of him. You've never been good at handling that sort of emotion, especially from others.

It's probably for the better. Your head is pounding, even in the shadow of the awning, and you stomach is still wobbly with uncertainty. You rest your chin in your hand as you watch him spraying your car with the nozzle of the hose. As he does, the splash back dampens the front of his tee, the fabric clinging to his stomach as he sneers at his task.

He shut the hose off and grabs the sponge from the bucket, scrubbing at the harder to get patches until has has it mostly clean. He gives it another rinse with hose and rolls it up, dumping the bucket in the grass and dropping the sponge inside. He puts the pail down and sits on the steps, only a foot away from you. 

"Sure made a mess of myself," he looks down at his wet shirt, wiping his hands on it before tugging it upwards. He strips it off and shakes it out as you avert your wiley gaze. "I'll buff the side later and it should be fine. Probably have to find somewhere to fix the paint properly, though."

"Thanks, uh, you've really done... enough."

"Shitty," he mutters clutching the shirt in his hand. As he leans an elbow on his knee, your eyes stray to the trim of hair across his broad chest. You hide your wandering gaze and focus on your hands, "I'm sorry she dragged you into all this. Really... and I know I've probably not made it any easier."

"I guess I'm just confused. I don't know what to do with myself. I guess I should keep looking for a job but at this rate, I won't have one until I have to head back to campus. If I even get to go." You exhale shakily, "my parents split tuition but if my mom cuts me off... I don't know what to do."

He nods and gives a thoughtful hum. He sits back and props his elbow on the step behind him, his muscled stomach tugging at your gaze. No, stop.

"I never had kids. Obviously. Always knew I couldn't give them everything I would want to, you know? But if I did, I'd give them everything I could. I just don't get it. I really don't, you're a good girl and they just don't see what's right in front of them," he sucks his teeth, "well, how about..." he stops himself and lets his leg sway one way then the other, "I could offer you a job. You could do some work around the shop. Sweeping up sawdust and stuff but the pay is good."

You nod and chew your lip. It's a nice idea. More than you deserve.

"What... what about..."

"Steve? You let me handle him. Really, he's just a dumbass. Gets carried away. Besides, sounds like he has his hands full with your mom and his wife," he scoffs, "you'll be working with me, not him."

You wiggle your foot, "I don't know..."

"It's your choice but it'll keep you busy and it could help with money problems," he puts his hand flat, "all you have to do is say yes. Oh, and obviously, whatever you decide, you got a place to stay."

You glance up at the house and frown, "I don't... what about Naomi?"

"What about her? If she comes back, same thing for her. She has a room here. I made promises and I don't break those. However she feels about me, I wasn't the one who hit the self-destruct button."

You drop your head, holding it tight as it feels ready to splinter. It's not just your hangover, it's everything else. You squeak and rub your temples with your thumbs.

"You okay?" Bucky leans forward and touches your elbow.

You lift your head gently, "yeah. I just feel awful. That I ever thought you were... bad. After everything, you won't even turn her away."

"She's lost. She's careless but she's young. I only ever wanted to help her, I was just selfish about how," he shrugs and retracts his hand, "but anyway," he stands and touches his lower back, "I think you should go inside, chill out on the couch, and watch some Netflix. I'll get you something nice and greasy to eat for that hangover."

You whimper and give a pathetic smile, "I'm sorry about that," you stand with some effort, "I don't usually drink like that--"

He laughs, "don't apologise," he waves you up the steps ahead of him, "I'm going to start being honest with you so I do need to tell you that it was really cute."

You giggle and shake your head as you reach for the front door. He's fast and extends his arm past you, opening it around you, close, so close you can feel the heat roiling off of him.

"No, it wasn't," you insist.

"It really was," he snorts as he follows you inside, "you get this pout and it's just..." he's quiet as you slip your shoes off, a lull as he weighs his words, "gorgeous."

You chuckle nervously and rub your neck. He clears his throat and toes off his sneakers. He moves around you cautiously, as if fighting not to get any closer.

"I'll go grab my phone and we'll figure out what to order," he mutters, his tone uneven, "you just make yourself at home."

🌞

You feel a bit more stable once you have a good meal in your stomach. Good being a relative term. The greasy cheeseburger and onions rings are hardly nutritious but they are satisfying. 

You slurp on your diet coke as you lay with your head up against the armrest and lose yourself in the shallow drama of the reality show personalities. An argument about a dress really is compelling theatre. You put the cup down and hug the cushion to your chest, laughing as a woman storms out, tossing her wine in the process. Wow, and you thought your life was ridiculous.

You yawn and close your eyes. It's getting late. You should probably go to the guest room and try to sleep off the last of your alcoholic regret. 

The end of the couch dips and your eyes snap open. Bucky sits just below your feet, tilting his head at the screen. He arches his brow as his eyes search the television. His mouth slants as he looks at you.

"So, why are these women screaming at each other?" He asks.

"Oh, uh, you can change it," you go to sit up but he firmly puts his hand on your ankle.

"No, I'm curious. Genuinely."

"Really, it's just a stupid show--"

"I want to know," he smiles and glances back at the TV, "they are really angry."

"Well, the blonde one borrowed a dress from the brunette and never gave it back but the blonde claims she did and the other woman is lying. And the other blonde is saying she saw the dress in the brunette's closet," you explain and end with a chortle, "it really is nonsense."

He keeps his hand on your ankle, his thumb rubbing through the cotton of your sock. He nods and squints, "the brunette is lying."

"Hmm? How do you know?"

"You can tell," he points with his other hand, his other slipping down your foot. "She keeps looking left."

"Oh?" You look between him and the television, overly aware of his hand. He pushes his thumb into your sole and you groan at the delightful pressure.

"You ticklish?" He wonders as he drags his thumb along your arch, "huh?"

"A little," you confess, "what are you--"

"Just... being nice," he grips your foot as you try to pull away once more, "just lay back. Everyone loves a good foot massage, don't they?"

"I... I wouldn't know," you push yourself up on your elbows and watch him knead your foot, barely withholding a moan. He knows what he's doing. "Never had one before."

"Really? Well, you got a lot of tension right... here," he poke his thumb into you and your squeal. It sends a zing up your leg. "See? I told you, you need to relax. I'm just helping." He grabs your ankle higher up and yanks, just hard enough to have you flat on your back, "sit back and enjoy, doll. You deserve it."

[darkness-follows]

Wade x f!reader oneshot request?

This idea has been stewing in my mind for a bit and I would love to see your take on it!!!

A one-shot where he's nervous about the reader inviting him over her place.

Maybe she starts making a move but he is excited/nervous but wants his "first time" with a woman since his wife's passing to be savored and slow/sensual.

The reader then asks him to show what he likes ~ touching himself while telling the reader how he likes to be touched in bed, leading to a smuty good time for the reader?

Thank you so much!!!!

WHAT A COOL IDEA THANK YOU!

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Hope this does it justice:

[Hey Wade, lets say my place? 8pm?]

Wade stares at the phone in his hands, fuck!

He checks the time again, 6.15 pm. Fuck.

Of course it's enough time to get himself ready but it's not enough time to mentally prepare for that date. That kind of date. It's their..oh he lost count already, maybe 5th or 6th date?

"Wow you look like you've seen a ghost Wade" Forrest huffs. Wade doesn't answer he just shows him his phone.

"Oh Holy shit! Oh my god...it's a sex date!" Forrest slaps his hand over his mouth and does a little excited jump. He's happier about this than Wade is. "Oh is that bad? Are you not ready?" He worries.

"I uh, I.. I don't know man, I haven't really..I mean she's great! You know like great but I didn't think of..-" He frowns deeply, it's a part of dating it's normal. People date and have some casual Sex just to..to see if they match right?

Right.

"Wade you got this, our girls can hang, we keep an eye and you go and have.. fun!" Forrest smirks.

"Really?"

"Yes really. Promise" Forrest adds.

"Okay! I gotta get ready, i gotta..I gotta shave and shower and...- RAID my entire damn closet"

And then Wade is off.

"Shave? He doesn't have any facial..- oh!" Forrest shuts himself up after that.

Wade really scrubbed himself squeaky clean, hes also wearing a Brand New pair of jeans which probably wasn't the smartest move as they seem incredibly tight in all the wrong places. But he still sits in his car in front of his dates house, he managed to go, to go really out and do it.. and at exactly 8pm he rings the doorbell. Shifting from one leg to the other, god he's sweating! That's bad! He's so nervous he's even thinking about running away right now.

When the door opens his face lights up.

"Wade!" You smile wide, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tight 'god does he smell good' .

You missed him, you missed a lot. "You okay? You look a bit wound up" He looks like he ran here.

Wade hugs you back just as tightly, pretending not to breathe in deeply when his face is in your hair, that shampoo is such a known and comforting scent by now.

"I'm golden! I swear, just ran a bit hot in the car" He tries to play his nervousness down, a lot. Stepping inside and then you two carry on with the date idea you had, sort of watching the first Episode of a new Show you two have been dying to see with popcorn and cuddles... very nice and sensual cuddles. It feels really good, having your head against his shoulder. Feeling the weight of his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking a rhythm into your skin.

After the episode ends you move your head slowly closer to his, giving him a gentle kiss while both your lips still taste of that sweet and sugary popcorn. You wanted this from the day you two met, to just cuddle and makeout and more.. he's such a wonderful man, everything he does is a slight turn on. Even if it's just taking his glasses off so he's able to kiss you back deeper, or sucking his fingertips clean after his bowl of popcorn.

You shift slowly, feeling his hand on your hip.

Moving yourself onto his lap.

He pulls away from the kiss, standing up "You want some water?? I uh, I gotta im really...- dry throat!" He coughs a bit and shrugs running off to the kitchen.

Hm.

When he returns you eye him carefully, pulling him on his belt to sit back down next to you.

When you lean in for another kiss he takes a big sip of his water, once he puts it down you wipe your thumb over his wet lips. "You sure your okay? Your not getting sick are you?" He's really warm so you place your palm onto his head. But he isn't hot there at all, Interesting.

"I'm..-" He takes a deep breath. He meant to say he's fine but..he's not and it wouldn't be fair to pretend that he is.

"I'm really nervous, about..-" He makes a funny hand gesture between the two of you.

"Oh.." You sit back once you notice.

"It's just been a while and I haven't been with anyone since.. -" He stops talking.

"We don't have to Wade! God im so sorry, please don't feel pressured!" You should have thought of that but you were too busy thinking about how he's driving you crazy lately.

"No no! It's okay I...- I want to" He smiles softly. "God believe me I really do, im just so nervous about it, I know sex. I know how to have great sex ! I mean I've been having sex since i was 18. That's a long time! I just haven't had sex with you and you make me..- god you make me so incredibly nervous" He sighs.

Its a strange but nice compliment, that you make him that nervous and that he's honest how difficult it is to sleep with someone after his wife died. It helps you to approach this with a full heart and empathy, pushing the need you have for him down a bit.

"Slow and steady?" You smile.

"YES! Yes....slow." He nods, staring at your lips and then your hands. Taking your right hand into his and that gives you an idea.

"Why don't you Show me Wade? Show me exactly what you like. I want this to be perfect for you" You squeeze his big hand gently.

His face turns a whole different shade of Red, it spreads to his ears and his chest. It's insanely difficult to not lean in for a heated kiss again. "Show you how?" He asks even though you are pretty sure he knows the answer to that.

"Move your hands on yourself the way you like to be touched so I can do it later.." your voice got a bit deeper and lower, it's beautiful to watch him fight the nervousness in this throat and hands. He gives you a quick nod. Moving his hands to his thighs, slowly running them up and down.

"I'm..- I'm sensitive on my thighs. It's little squeezes or moving a hand up slowly that really gets me" He sighs softly under your gaze. You take in the way he runs his right hand up his inner thigh, stopping before he gets too close to his crotch and then he moves it back down.

"Your doing great, show me more" You sit next to him on your knees. Hands on your thighs.

"I gotta take this off I think to show you..." He tugs at his shirt.

"Take it off if you feel comfortable enough." You throw him another warm smile and he nods. Tugging at the neck of his shirt and then he pulls it over his head, folding it neatly instead of tossing it somewhere.

The heat spread over his chest is intoxicating and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss his grey chest hair.

You keep a note on how his hand is still running along his own thigh, it looks like a big self soothing kind of touch.

Wade moves his other hand flat onto his chest, spreading his fingers through his chest hair and running his palm over his sternum. "That's where I feel that anxious bubble up sometimes and just running a palm along here calms me down, a lot, it's also nice when that hand wanders and squeezes my chest or uhm" He runs his thumb over his own nipple, a Sound comes out of him that suprises you a bit.

"Or that yeah" He chuckles and it slowly feels like he's calming down some.

"You are really sensitive aren't you?" It's torture at this point to keep your hands to yourself.

"I'd call it responsive? Just really react to everything very intensely and that's great! I mean it can be amazing but when it's something I don't like I just..- I react heavily to that too" He frowns a bit.

"I understand that. I get why it's so difficult, thank you for telling me Wade, seriously. I only want you to feel good." You point out.

You can see how crazy nervous it would make someone, being with the same woman for 20 years, she knew exactly how to touch him.. and now that's gone and readjusting such a set in Stone routine seems impossibly difficult.

It would be difficult for yourself too. And maybe over time you can do small tiny little changes and he Blooms again and tries out more things again. You'd love to see that Version of him.

"Thank you for being so patient with me" Wade leans closer this time, this time he's the one pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply. And it really does feel better this way.

He feels a lot more into it then he did before.

When he breaks off the kiss you don't chase it, you let him continue to show you.

"Of course.." You whisper. Watching his hands work on his belt and zipper, god now the room suddenly got really really hot. The moan that comes rumbling out of his throat when he moves his hand into his briefs is sinful.

"God Wade, you look so beautiful right now. I don't think you even know how insanely hot you are, everything you do gets me. Especially watching you getting more and more comfortable for me, can I please touch you? Like one of the ways you showed me?" You can't take this anymore..

"I've never felt this way before, never touched myself that way, so please do" Wade huffs. He doesn't even think of himself as that sexy.

You nod and place your hand onto his chest just like he showed you, pressing your palm into his sternum while his hand strokes his cock in his underwear. Christ.

Your other hand moves to his thigh, tracing the inside up and down. "Like that?" You ask.

"Yes..exactly like that sweetheart" He sighs deeply and leans in for another kiss. While you kiss you can feel his hand slowly reaching out to take yours, you didn't expect that at all but he replaces his hand with yours and suddenly you have a insanely warm, thick and hard as a Rock cock in your hand. You pull back from the kiss, and the expression on his face makes your thighs clench together.

"You want to give me some more notes here Wade?" A big smirk is on your lips while you carefully move your hand up and down his lenght.

But Wade shakes his head "I..uh, I got nothing to add you are doing it perfectly" and for a moment you can see something almost like disbelieve in his eyes. That he can't believe he found a woman who knows exactly how to touch him the way he really likes it. This whole dating and finding out thing must have been really hard.

"Tell me what you like, please, it's been so about me I don't want you to feel left out!" Wade holds his hand above your thighs not too sure if he can touch or not. "I don't feel that way at all, I really want to just please you Wade, I want you to feel great and im sure whatever way you have me I'd be fantastic" You smile again when he grabs your thigh and kisses your cheek and your bodies slowly shift on the couch.

Until you find yourself underneath him, spreading your legs for him while your hand still slowly strokes up and down his cock.

His hands run up your sides, it feels like he's really taking in everything, the way you look on your back and how your clothes fall, the way your legs are at his sides. He really is a pretty slow and sensual guy, this is going to be a wild time for sure.

Your hand carefully moves out of his pants, keeping your hands to yourself for now. You have a feeling this really is only about you right now. You watch his fingers open the buttons on your thin shirt, one by one, he's being so slow and careful with it. You wear a simple top underneath which frames your chest pretty nicely, which, following his eyes he noticed.

Then he looks into your eyes "You are beautiful, really, breathtaking" He whispers. Helping you out of your shirt and out of your top as well. It's a good thing you decided on the dark blue bra and dark blue pair of lace panties tonight. His fingers stroke over the Material of the cup around your breast. These slow exploring touches really set your body on fire.

Then Wade opens yours pants, drags them slowly down your thighs and leans back to pull them off your feet. Both of his hands trace your leg back up from your ankles to your hips. Nobody ever took this much time appreciating your body before.

"You still okay? You can tell me when you want to stop Wade.." You stroke a hand over his cheek and the look on his face is adoreable. "I'm perfect, I was so nervous about this whole thing and now? Now I want to touch every inch of you, kiss every inch of you.." He whispers, leaning down to press his lips onto yours again and you move your hands back to how he showed you he likes it.

During that slow and Intense kiss you can feel his hand wander over your body again. Cupping your still clothed breast and then he drags it over your stomach, and then between your legs. His fingers stroke over the Material of your underwear and you wish your weren't wearing it anymore. It's almost as if that's what he's exactly teasing at, his fingers softly press against the fabric and you start to feel some mild friction.

His lips wander from your mouth to your neck.

"You are driving me crazy" You whisper and his fingers dig a bit deeper into your underwear. The way his lips trace your skin is so steady, so warm, so comfortable. He really meant it, wanting to kiss every inch of you. Against your will your hips move up just a little to meet more friction and instead of making you behave Wade moves his hand into your underwear, doing the exact same thing but now his two fingers rub against skin! "Wade...-" You moan out.

His fingers stroke over your clit but so painfully slow that there is no way you could ever cum from that and you are starting to think that's the whole purpose of doing it all so slow. He's savoring the moment while driving you absolutely crazy at the same time. And that works perfectly for the both of you.

Your hand wanders back into his underwear as well, stroking your hand over his cock just like she showed you. And when he moans you squirm underneath him, god that was the hottest moan you ever heard.

Wade really forgot how great it felt to be touched just exactly right by someone, when that gear just flips and everything they do is an instant turn on.. he missed that feeling, he missed that feeling so very much. He doesn't feel guilty anymore about seeking what he desires and getting what he needs, he needs a new emotional connection to someone, he really needs to be intimate with someone again. He’s truly happy that he found you. And he will make damn sure to show you his appreciation as best as he possibly can.

“Take it to the next step when you feel ready Wade okay?” You need to make sure he's okay. You can't even imagine how much meaning this has for him, how he's scared of it and how much he craves it at the same time.

When he nods and pulls back you can hear your own heart pounding in your chest. It's really happening..- After all these dates and getting to know someone, you finally get to know Wade all the way.

When he takes off every last piece of your and his clothing and suddenly you both are just…naked, on the couch. Overcome by a small wave of shyness you hesitate with opening your legs again for him, it was a different thing while you still had your bra and underwear on. Now everything is so vulnerable.

His hands stroke up your thighs and the look in his eyes asks for silent permission. Despite the nervous throbbing in your body you open your legs slowly and his hands get a hold on your hips while his body moves between your thighs.

He places the sweetest and deepest kiss onto your lips while his hand guides himself to your heated, longing core.

“Wade..” You move your hands to his face. Kissing his lips.

“You mean the World to me, if at any point you change your mind about this please tell me, we’re gonna be okay. I promise” his face lights up into a pure smile, you can see the youth in him, his age not suiting him at the moment at all, he looks like a young man drowned in love and it causes you to melt right underneath him.

“We’re gonna be okay..-” He repeats before he places his tip against you, never has a man pushed himself into you this slowly. Everytime you think that's gonna be it another inch disappears inside of you, your legs slowly wrap around his waist and when he's all the way inside he stops moving his entire body.

He's so quiet it would worry if you wouldn't know that he's going to open up if anything ever bothers him.

He feels incredible. He feels so comfortable. He gives your body enough time to accept him, to adjust to him, it's a perfect fit and somehow you knew it would be.

You didn't expect him to lift his head and look at you, holding your gaze when he starts to move his hips so carefully and gently.

Drawing a deep and long moan out of you.

Not knowing he enjoys it that slow has you melting even further into the couch, what a cruel beauty it is, every movement gets dragged out and the body building up to some kind of grand release goes on and on and on…

Almost as if there is no end in sight. But it's heaven, feeling him so closely, feeling the steady weight and gentle drag of his cock deep inside of you while he kisses your skin and moans the occasional word into your ear is heaven. The time he's able to pull while he keeps this up, keeps this so slow.. it feels like you are dreaming, as if you are connected for hours.

You touch him the way he showed you again, hand pressing and stroking over his chest when you get surprised by a deep moan. His hips barely change pace but it's enough to have you clawing at his shoulders. You can't take the building up to it anymore, he's so easily moving in and almost out of you because it made you incredibly wet to have this feeling last this long. You worry about cleaning the couch pillows tomorrow… for now all you want is his release, you need to look into his eyes when he finally spills into your body and lets go of this weight on his shoulders. Of this guilt he's been carrying for simply being a human being with needs and desires.

Your hands move his head gently closer to yours. “You're okay Wade, you're fine..- let go for me Baby.. I promise we're gonna be just fine” You press a kiss onto his cheek and then onto his other. He nods and places his lips onto yours when he thrusts just the smallest bit harder, and that added speed makes you clench around him, makes your back arch slightly off the couch while you loudly moan out his name.. “Wade…oh, fuck! Wade…” Your body is shaking from that orgasm. That pleasure. Like an elastic Band that just suddenly snapped and right after you feel him, you feel his cum fill you up while his hands clutch your hips and his head falls onto your shoulder. The moans coming out of him as he thrusts his full release into you almost sound broken, his first time since his wife passed that he made love to a woman again. That's how these moans Sound like.

When his hips stop moving you pull him into a close hug.

“God…-” He sighs deeply. “Oh why did I wait this long!” He mumbles, placing kisses onto your shoulder and collarbone. “That was incredible. Wow.” He lifts his head to finally look at you again. The mood is easy, he seems so happy, so lit up by finally letting go of this. Getting it over with so to speak. Moving on..

“It was pretty good.” You tease softly.

“How uh, how good?” He bites his tongue with a huff “You know what? Nevermind. I don't think I wanna know!” He shrugs.

“Well we can do it again…and again..and-” He kisses you deeply, starved, as if the two of you didn't just finish. “You bet sweetheart, you better be ready for that fire you started” He smirks wide. “Oh easy now cowboy!” You laugh and he kisses your head. “How about some hot coco and another Episode of this show?” He suggests. “That sounds amazing, but..- Stay for a bit? With me? Like this?” You run your hands over his back and his sides.

“Anything for you love, thank you for being so patient and..- understanding. You made me very very happy” Wade places another kiss onto your cheek before you two hold each other tightly again. You could seriously fall asleep like this, it's the most comfortable you have felt in a while…a long while.

“It was my pleasure Wade” You smile.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Hey thank you for reading and I really hope I did this prompt justice, also my very first time writing as Wade Felton !!!! Ahhh.

I did not read this for any mistakes yet so don't point out my probably plenty mistakes! Haha.

Tags: @toogaytofunctiondangit

[lesbojournals]

Clean Shaven (Stucky x Reader)

Based on this post:

You thought you were surprising the boys with your new haircut.

You had just got it done at the salon, thrilled with your decisions. You had a happy bounce in your step, jingling your keys as you ran up the stairs to get to your shared apartment with Steve and Bucky.

You opened the door with a loud, “I’m home!”

You turned to the kitchen counter to put down your stuff, and heard footsteps approach. With a big smile on your face, you spun around. At the sight of Steve your smile dropped to a small “o” face. 

His once thick beard that you adored was completely gone from his face, his cheeks and chin smooth as ever.

He smiled at you cheekily. “Nice haircut sweetheart.”

You stuttered, butterflies in your stomach at your boyfriend’s face. “What did you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky walked in, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Oh, beautiful hair darling.” He noted, and came up to you for a quick peck.

Your eyes must’ve been bulging out of your head, because one thing you never expected was for Bucky to shave. You’d seen old pictures of Steve in his early Cap phases, but you didn’t even know Bucky existed without facial hair. He looked astonishing.

Both of your boyfriends chuckled at you, and you shook your head a few times to get out of your stupor. 

“Something wrong, babygirl?” Bucky asked, still smiling like an idiot.

“You both shaved !!” You exclaimed. “What’s the occasion?”

Bucky went to grab a glass of water, leaning next to you on the counter. Steve was the one who answered you.

“Just wanted to surprise you, but it looks like you had the same idea with the hair.” Steve mentioned. 

You turned next to Bucky and raised a hand to his cheek, his eyes completely amused at your actions. 

“So soft.” You commented. 

Your cheeks heated at the idea that popped into your head, and Steve noticed immediately. Bucky smirked with a knowing smile.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Steve tilted his head innocently. 

You shook your head negatively. “It’s nothing.”

Bucky poked at your cheek. “I think I know what it is, huh?”

Steve glanced at Bucky then at you again, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, embarassed. “It’s just…it’ll feel different.”

“It?” Steve asked, still lost. 

Bucky had the biggest smile on his face, it would’ve been cute if you weren’t so flustered.

“You know…”

Steve’s ears turned red at the realization. “You mean…?”

You looked away.

Bucky turned your face to look him in the eyes. “Why don’t we test that theory?”

[scozthewoz]

mercs as cat breeds + kitty merc headcanons

inspired by/in collaboration with @joonliebe (i changed a few of them sorry pookie 💔)

kitty headcanons are from my cat fortress AU where all the mercs are cats that are foster fails because nobody wants those motherfuckers and now miss pauling is stuck with them all

spy ▪︎ persian - fancy and high maintenance. the signature bond villain cat

likes to be alone. needs to be taken to the groomer once a week or he gets pissed off and starts tearing up the couch. he has a very strict schedule and if his terms are not followed he throws a tantrum. he also sneaks out of the house and dissapears frequently. a dick to the rest of the cats, except scout for some reason.

heavy ▪︎ siberian - big boys with big coats, comes from siberia

the most well behaved cat there. scarred up and scary looking from his time in the pound, but he's suprisingly very quiet and peaceful. naturally chunky and big boned. miss pauling's favorite. he's a bonded pair with medic, they can normally be found grooming each other. he tends to wrangle scout when he's being too much, he doesn't like to see miss pauling stressed.

pyro ▪︎ sphynx - just a weird lookin thing. also an affectionate and energetic breed that likes to wreak havoc

peculiar little intersex kitty covered in burns, owners died in a house fire (that she may or may not have caused). both eyes are gone, but she navigates just fine. knows how to turn the stove on and has set multiple small fires. miss pauling puts him in cute little sweaters since he doesn't have any fur to keep him warm.

sniper ▪︎ savannah - hybrid of a house cat and a wild serval

very solitary, like spy, but not hostile to the others. owners were an old couple that died and it shook up the already shy cat. miss pauling doesn't need to feed him like the others since he sneaks out and hunts his own meals. almost completely silent unless he's sitting at the window and chirping at birds. evident dislike for spy. quiet and low maintenence so not a huge headache, but he tracks mud in the house. he's very skittish too, runs off or hides whenever there's company.

medic ▪︎ turkish angora - graceful. very majestic. cunty, even

on paper, he seems like a very good cat! he's an ex-service animal that still carries out some service tasks, like deep pressure therapy when miss pauling is getting anxious or retrieving stuff. only problem is that he loves bringing dead things inside, and he goes out of his way to rip it to shreds and get blood and guts ALL over the house. he also has a temper issue, and he needs little kitty glasses because his eyesight is shit.

engineer ▪︎ munchkin - haha short legs!! oh yeah, and they're pretty smart

used to be a workshop cat around for pest control, lost a leg in an accident. workshop guys gave him a kitty sized hardhat he gets very upset without. he's got a hard time jumping up on stuff since he not only has short legs, but he's got a prosthetic one too, so miss pauling made him a few kitty staircases up to his favorite spots. he likes stealing tools from neighbors and and scrap metal from outside and stashes them under the couch.

demoman ▪︎ scottish fold - scottish, prone to eye problems

missing an eye and has some singed fur from teens with fireworks. little kitty eyepatch. he frequently gets into the bailey's irish cream miss pauling keeps on top of the fridge and has to be brought to the vet for liver issues at least once a month.

soldier ▪︎ ragdoll - developed in america !!🇺🇸 tend to rough house when playing and are very vocal

used to belong to a war veteran, then became a stray after he died. clipped ear. his body's kept shaved because of scarring and matting issues, so he's got furry boots and a puffball tail, but the fur on his noggin covers his eyes. he frequently bothers the others. a big sweetheart for miss pauling, but agressive with anyone else. likes fetch. dog in a cat body.

scout ▪︎ siamese - the extroverts of the cat world, very energetic and chatty, also very clever.

his ma and brothers are all siamese, but he's got an oddly fluffy tail like a persian.. he's a big fan of miss pauling, never leaves her alone. gets pissy and scratches the curtains or breaks a glass when she's giving one of the other cats too much attention. wayyy too clingly and always causing some sort of trouble or getting into places he shouldn't. he also meows CONSTANTLY.

[katsune-nya]

Hakkai Shiba is a beast in bed

LISTEN, OK, LISTEN TO ME.

I made an ask thirsting to a fucking magician of writting and then talked to her about this and that just gave me more ideas.

The first time with you is his first time ever. He's shy, careful, sweet. He had many chats with Taka-chan about what he should do, TO THE DETAIL. He did his best to make it romantic (it was like, soft warm lighting and some nice dinner at his place, nothing too fancy.)

He washed up in the shower scrubbing every single place, shaved, skin hydrated, wore expensive cologne, retouched his hair, got the prettiest clothes he had, bought you flowers and chocolates (asked Taka, Fuyu and Yuzuha for help with everything).

He was so nervous the first like... Two hours, lmao. He got red and sweaty every time your skins brushed, he stuttered, but when he looked into your eyes, he smiled every time.

He put his hand softly on your thigh, not looking at you at first, then, when you kiss him, he slowly gets braver and lies you on the bed. He starts barely touching you, no pressure on his strong hands, softly caressing your skin.

He tries to pleasure you first, following Takashi's teachings.

His first pumps when you get to it are slow, soft, careful. He kisses you deeply and holds your hand, fingers intertwined. He starts getting lost in the feeling of you, fearing he will reach his peak too quickly to make you enjoy it as much as he wishes you do.

That's how it goes the first times, until one day, you tell him: "I want you to be rougher, 'kai, I'm not made of glass." He stutters on his movements. "Are you sure? I- I don't wanna hurt you..." But when you nod, kiss him, and beg for him to go harder, pushing your hips agains his own, he loses his mind, all restraint gone.

He grips you tightly, his strong body naturally pushing yours down into the mattress, pumps hard and deep, his whimpers now mixed with growls. His kisses on your lips and neck turn to nips, his teeth leaving small indents.

You're dizzy and way too loud, eyes rolling back, where was the shy boy you knew?

"I love you... I love you..." He gasps between bites on your neck, breaths ragged as he makes your body almost bounce on the bed.

He's animalistic, he's a strong man, he's big, he's roughened up. He makes your entire body shake and twitch.

It's after the highest point that he comes back to his senses and sees the marks on your body, concern crosses his face but when he looks at your blissed out expression he doesn't know what to think anymore. "I- I'm so sorry! Are you ok, love?" Your smile and kiss while telling him you loved it just get him ready for more.

I love him so so much. I would kill for my shy boy. He's tall, in a gang, has a scar, was beaten up AND beating up as a kid. He's not the softie some potray him as. He's still a sweetheart though.

[missstolensweetheart]

the hottest tears you've ever cried ⚭ ☆ 🌧️

thecar!prof!Alex turner x prof! reader

warnings: angst (kinda)

Summary: Alex shows up at your doorstep at 3 am begging for you to take him back during your divorce.

You looked at the clock in the corner of your home office it read 3am. You rubbed your temples, frustrated by the almost non visible dent you’ve made in the stack of papers you have to grade that was sitting on the corner of your brown wooden desk lit up by the dim light of your lamp.

Usually you would be grading with Alex; keeping each other company. Your eyes pooled with tears when you remembered how he made you coffee or tea or literally anything you wanted and how he’d keep one hand on your knee rubbing it gently while carefully reading over the stacks of papers.

Your phone Buzzed which ultimately made you jump. “Who the hell is texting me right now?” You mumbled to yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw Alex’s contact.

3:01am

“Open the door”

“Baby please”

3:02 am

“Don’t leave me out in the cold”

Your legs shook as you walked to the front door of your big home. You reached a shaky hand out twisting the door nob. And sure enough Alex was on the other side, his face lit up with a look of relief, love, sadness, anger, basically all of the above. His eyes were red and puffy. His hair was messy. He clearly hadn’t shaved in a minute as the shadow of his stumble was very clear.

“Hi” he broke the ice first.

“Hey” your lips quivered as your voice broke.

You stared at each other for a minute, getting lost in the spark that was once there.

“To be quite honest I don’t know why I’m here.” His voice was sad and empty, you had only ever heard that voice one other time and that was when you two got into a really nasty argument but that was years ago.

“Would you like to come in?” A part of you knew it was a stupid idea but the other part was curious.

“I- uh yeah sure” you stepped aside so he could come in. His movements were awkward almost like this was his first time in the house, even though you two previously shared it.

“Would you like tea?” You managed to finally say as you closed the door.

“Yeah, sure” he smiled awkwardly

“Lots of sugar right?” You smiled warmly, breaking the tension. He smiled back. “Yeah.”

You nodded your head and quickly walked to the kitchen. As soon as you were out of his sight you let a few tears fall but you quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of your sweater. You put the kettle on and leaned against the counter taking a few deep breaths to gather yourself. It didn’t take long before the water was ready. You grabbed your mug then his.. his mug had his initial on it. a rush of memories came back to you, long talks during the evening, grading papers together at three in the morning, making his and your coffee in the morning, everything.

“You okay?” His voice startled you. You dropped his mug.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry” you immediately panicked picking up each piece of glass. He rushed to your side subconsciously.

“It’s alright love ive got it” he picked up the pieces. “See it’s alright” he looked at you with a warm smile which immediately dropped once he saw your panicked face and tears. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back. You let your emotions go, sobbing loudly.

“Shh love I’ve got you. It’s alright.” You quickly calmed down and looked up at him, noticing he was crying too. You wiped his tears with your thumb, He grabbed your hand which shocked you a bit, he studied it for a moment. his thumb ran over your wedding ring. You didn’t even realize you were still wearing it. He broke down resting his head between your collar and jaw, it was your turn to comfort him.

“Shh” you ran your fingers through his hair and cried with him

“Take me back..please baby…. I need you.” His voice was shaky and even cracked. It pulled on your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you missed him like crazy. You don’t even know what happened between the two of you. One moment you were perfectly fine and happy the next you were arguing 24/7 and staying at friends houses just to take a break from each other. The truth was lack of communication you were both guilty of it but neither of you wanted to admit it. You didn’t think it could ruin your marriage to the point of divorce but it did.

“Let’s talk about this in the morning.” You thought it was the wisest decision because after all it was 3am and you were both sleep deprived. He sat up quickly, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah yeah uh I’ll be by tomorrow whatever time works for you”

“I was thinking you could stay the night” you knew it was a risky move but you needed him to stay.

“Yeah I can grab some blankets and sleep on the couch” he nodded

“I mean you can sleep in our bed if you want, it's still technically your bed.” your voice shook, you never could have imagined asking the love of your life to do as little as sleep in the same bed as you but here you are. You could tell he was hesitant.

His big brown eyes locked with yours “okay” he nodded softly.

You stood up reaching a hand out for him to grab, once you helped him up you both stood there for a moment almost unsure as to what your next move would be.

“I uh i'm going to go get ready for bed” you broke the silence.

“yeah of course of course ” he flashed a nervous yet reassuring smile.

You turned around quickly, shuffling to the stairs and making your way up them. Alex decided to wait a few minutes before following you, taking the time to compose himself. He made his way up the stairs. A specific photo caught his eyes, one you two took 3 years ago in the fall. It was supposed to be a cute photo shoot but soon turned into a complete mess when it started raining and Alex fell in mud dragging you down with him. He smiled softly at the photo, staring at your mud covered outfit and wide smile, god he misses that smile. He sighed, snapping out of his thoughts and making his way to your shared bedroom, you were already in the shower when he got up there. He grabbed some pj pants from his dresser ,quickly changing into them before sitting on the bed waiting for you.

You quickly finished your shower, moving on to doing your night time routine. You thought about the time you made Alex do a face mask with you and it became a weekly thing, you smiled at the thought. Once you finished up and got into your pjs (underwear and alex's shirt that you stole a long time ago) you opened the door of the bathroom that was in your bedroom. Alex's eyes shifted to you scanning your body carefully, you felt your cheeks get hot. You walked over to the bed and crawled in, rubbing your legs gently against the cold sheets, Alex did the same. You faced each other. Both fighting the urge to reach out and hold each other, one of you failed to resist. Alex reached a hand out to your hip, his finger traced on the bottom hem of your shirt before slipping under it onto your bare skin. A small gasp escaped your lips when Alex's cold hand met your warm skin.

Your eyes met his lustfully, you broke your gaze by looking down at his lips missing the feeling and taste of them. Alex took that as his cue and leaned in…

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

pt 2?

[lieutenantfloyd]

Love is a mystery | Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader

Word Count: 841

Summary: With Harry’s help, Rosie finds old hobbies and new love in post-war New York.

Warnings: Mentions, of war, implied ptsd and depression, talk of marriage and pregnancy.

Authors Note: I honestly don't know where this idea came from, but I think my brain needed something a bit fluffy after watching all nine episodes of Master of the Air in two days and crying the whole time. [This is based off of the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I have nothing but wholehearted respect for the real life individuals and situations portrayed.]

Read on AO3

In the months following their return stateside, Crosby takes a trip to see Rosie. During a nice casual lunch, he spends far too long dancing around the fact that Rosie is visibly not okay, and eventually suggests that getting back into things he enjoyed before the war will greatly help his readjustment.

Rosie briefly considered placating him with an "I'm fine, really," but he only nods, unable to lie to Crosby. 

The truth is Rosie hasn't slept one full night since his first at Thorpe Abbotts and he gladly accepts shaky hands and reddened eyes over the twilight memories of what he saw and those he's lost.

Yet, after a night of particularly bad insomnia, he takes Crosby's words to heart and heads to the library. The pen trembles against Rosie's calloused hand while he fills out the library's card application, but his voice is steady when he asks the pretty librarian for recommendations.

He's too distracted by your shiny, kind eyes to notice how you recognize the distant look in his own. contrarily, You note in your diary that night how you couldn't tell if it was sympathy or his easy charm that made your heart race wildly while suggesting some classics and mysteries that should keep his mind busy.

-

"you need to get out more, Rosie," Crosby states in a letter one day.

It just so happens that during a now routine trip to the library, Rosie notices a half-hidden flier for an Agatha Christie book club pinned to the community board.

A week later—spurred onward once more by Harry's words—he pulls himself out of bed, has a shower and shave, and attends the meeting.

The cracked glass of Rosie's brown leather watch allows him to see he's half an hour late as he ascends up the small steps in front of the building.

Designated meeting room C is quiet and mostly dark as he pulls the handle. He's three solid steps inside the door when the room's sole occupant looks up at him—you, that same librarian with those same eyes.

He barely has half a mind to choose one of the provided refreshments—a cup of black coffee dangerously close to room temperature—before sinking into one of the many empty seats. The weary but logical part of him says that this is a waste of time, but the remnants of his fun-loving side tell him that he's got nothing to lose.

He takes a sip of coffee and sinks further into his seat.

While exchanging kind pleasantries, you retrieve a well loved copy of Why Didn't They Ask Evans? from your envelope handbag. Rosie quickly follows suit and slips his own newly bought but already dog eared book out of his leather coat pocket.

"So you liked it?" you inquire with joyfully clasped hands and a voice filled with breathtaking earnestness. After nearly choking on a hefty drink of coffee and his fluttery nerves, Rosie lets a bashful smile slip past his defenses.

Ninety minutes pass completely uncounted before Rosie steps back out onto the snowy, bustling New York City streets. He quickly shuffles home, tossing his coat and book onto a chair before dropping down onto his bed. He intends to return the items to their rightful place after a short rest, though the book will find a home on his bedside table after he spots your number jotted on the inside corner in loopy, flowing handwriting.

-

Spring is well in bloom when Rosie and Harry see each other again. 

Rosie spends the following two days giving the Crosby family a tour of the best sights and eats his hometown has to offer. 

Their third evening in town has Crosby swaying his young son to the music flowing through the jazz bar while covertly helping Rosie draft his proposal speech. You and Jean are sat within arms reach, though you both pay the boys no mind as you're fully entranced by the music. The night winds on, and the draft becomes a full, completed speech. They share a coy laugh as Rosie slips the notebook back into his vest pocket, knowing that if all goes right this moment will find its way into Crosby's best man's speech.

In this smoky bar just past dinner time, they both accept that they aren't the same men they were before the war. They’d seen a hell no words could ever describe, and yet the world somehow kept turning. They escape to the bar soon after, where Harry tells him that he'll soon be a father once more. Rosie offers his congratulations and jokes that he won't be far behind. The bar is dim, but Crosby still catches a glimpse of the lighthearted playfulness returning to his friend's eyes.

You and Jean coo and fuss over the baby as the men say their goodbyes. Through an especially tight hug, they make each other a silent promise to keep holding on. If not for who they were before but for who they are—and what they have —now.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Over The Phone

Dad Bod!Professor!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Just... NSFW. So much NSFW. Phone sex, masturbating, sexy selfies, sexting, all that shit.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: God this took forever to churn out but I finally got motivation to finish it!!

Taglist: @cupcakeinat0r @tojishugetiddies (if I forgot to tag anybody let me know, pls! I lost the saved list I had for people alshldhd)

Divider by @/across-the-art-verse

Miguel art @ meeee

The day had dragged on for what felt like far longer than usual for him; the usual students who showed up late, tried to sneak out, slept through the lecture or just ignored whatever he said.

The students who listened and actively engaged with the lesson were few and far between, and the almost silent lull between classes felt felt almost too short. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, especially with the growing list of students who were disinterested in his class, or those that only signed up for extra credit and didn't want to do the work...

But, getting cards and thank-you post-its from students who felt like they wouldn't have been able to graduate without him kept him on in this tedium. He loved to hear from his former students about how their new careers were going--careers they credit hi to helping them achieve.

It never failed to make his heart all warm and fuzzy when he thought about them.

Miguel ran his hand across his beard, and a thought came to him about maybe shaving it off. He had grown it out; rather rugged if he had to admit it. But, he quickly shook that thought away--you loved his beard. Oftentimes he would wake up from a nap, you snuggled perfectly against his solid frame, your nails dragging through the short hairs with a content smile on your face.

Oh, he couldn't say no to you, his pretty little wife, could he?

Speaking of which... it was your day off. He couldn't help but wonder what you were--

When his phone pinged, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and unlocks the screen to see a text from you;

Hiii baby, how's work going?

He chuckled and replied, Same as usual. Only two students slept through class this lime

*time

Your reply was swift.

Awww I'm sry :(

If it makes you feel any better, if I were in your class... wait. I wouldn't get any work done either. I'd just be lookin at you :p

He laughed, his belly shaking a little bit as he grinned at his screen, his massive fingers fumbling the small keys once again on the too-small phone screen.

Yes, you would mafe a very door student, wouldn't you, amor?

*made *poor

Miguel rolled his eyes. He was tempted to try and see if they didn't make phones built for someone with his giant hands in mind... Damn this tiny screen!

Awww my Miggy gettin all frustrated?

Yes.

For what felt like too long, his message was left on "read". He quirked a bushy brow, scratching at his beard curiously at what was keeping you.

And then, his phone pinged again.

Here, maybe this'll keep you entertained ;)

*Image attached. Click to view.*

He hummed in curiosity. Maybe it was one of those silly little doodles you liked to send to him? One of your memes, maybe? Though, it didn't make sense why the image was blurred, when--

His heart lurched up into his throat and he instantly slammed his phone against his desk, screen down; looking around pointlessly as if he were worried someone was standing over his shoulder when the image finally cleared.

Cursing himself for acting like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Miguel slowly lifted his phone to his face and looked at the picture you'd sent him.

You were nude, laying belly-down in your bed, the blankets askew around you. Your feet crossed one over the other as you smiled at the lens--you must have moved the full body mirror from the living room to your bedroom to achieve this shot--and your back was arched slightly to show off your bare ass.

He felt his cock twitch to life as he examined every pixel on the screen; wishing so badly he were home right now, to touch that soft expanse of flesh he loved so much. To cup your ass in his palms, feeling the warmth of your skin in his palms as his fingers massaged and groped the skin.

He could feel your hands slide up the soft pouch of his belly, scraping your nails delectably through the short, curly dark hairs that ran up his abdomen and covered his chest. He could feel your teeth scrape and tug his nipple before kissing your way back down...

Dios, mi amor. You're lucky I am not in the middle of a meeting! He hastily typed, pretending he wasn't practically salivating over that selfie.

Aw, didn't you like what I sent? :'(

I didn't say--

But before he could finish typing and send the text, he got another attached image from you.

He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat and his thumb hovered over the image hesitantly. He looked towards the clock above the door to his classroom. He had half an hour left...

When the image unblurred, he felt his heart damn near stop.

You were perched on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide; one hand was holding your phone while the others spread you slick folds with nimble fingers and a cheeky expression on your face.

How bout this one?

Miguel groaned, loudly. He actually slipped a hand over his plush lips, cringing at how damn near pathetic that sounded.

He immediately clicked your contact information and hit "call".

The phone rang a painfully long, droning tone until your bubbly voice giggled on the other end of the line, "Heyyyy Miggy~"

"You are going to kill me, baby." He hissed into his phone, pressing the heel of his palm into his throbbing erection, "I'm in the middle of a school day! The students are at lunch!"

"Ohhh, did I get you all hard and excited for me?" You sigh dreamily into the phone, your voice dropping into a more sultry tone.

"Naughty boy, popping a stiffy in the middle of class."

He grunted, his head dropping back against his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he tugged the ends of his button-up out from his rapidly-tightening jeans, "And whose fault is that?"

You gasp theatrically, "Mine? Oh, baby, I was just trying to provide you moral support, I swear!"

"Of course," Miguel huffed, eyeing the doorknob, waiting to see if he was unlucky enough that somebody were to walk in right as he pulled his cock free from his jeans, running his fingers over the swollen tip, smearing his precum around it.

He could hear in your voice, the way you were biting your lip in excitement as you spoke. "Baby, are you touching yourself?"

"You tell me, first." He replied, his voice strained as he gave himself a few tentative strokes; trying to gauge if the risk was worth it.

"Oh? Want me to tell you that I'm playing with my pussy?" You croon. "That I'm imagining you, and me, in bed..."

His teeth snagged his plush bottom lip briefly as he sped his hand up to your words, then slowed back down again. The friction wasn't right; too dry. So, he sucked on his tongue until he had a nice glob of saliva; bringing his hand up to his mouth to wet it before slicking his throbbing length up.

"Go on." He grumbled into the line.

"...ooooh." You giggled, your voice a little breathless. He could see you now, laying back on the bed, your fingers plunging in and out of you, pulling out to stroke your puffy clit; your pussy drooling into the blankets beneath you.

"Mmmm~ I'm also imagining you on top of me, my legs on your shoulders..."

He felt the oxygen squeeze from his lungs as he upped his pace, the vein in his cock throbbing and thumping in time with his rapid heart rate.

"Yeah, bebita?"

"Yeah." You huff, a small moan coming from you; "'m imagining you pinnin' me down, fucking a baby into me."

"Dios." Miguel groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet his fist. "You want a baby, hermosa? Want me to make you a mami?"

"Mhmm... want you to fill me aaaallllll the way up." You whined, your panting hot, even through the phone.

Miguel dared a glance up at the clock. Still had some time... He needed to do it quickly; needed to milk his cock so he wouldn't appear "improper" with a massive erection straining his pants.

As if enough of his female students (and even some of the male ones) didn't have enough difficulty paying attention in class...

He'd be lying if he hadn't gotten a few love confessions from students, present and former. He'd always politely turn them down, and then, if they were currently his pupils, politely and quietly have them sent to another class to avoid any improper behavior in the future.

It was as if none of them ever paid any mind to the gold band firmly secured to his ring finger--the matching mate to the one you wore on your own softer, delicate hand signifying your matrimonial bonds. Or... maybe they had and assumed they could tempt him from you.

Well, those assumptions were always wrong. The only person he could imagine bouncing on his cock, sucking it, milking it, stroking it--was you. You and only you.

Sometimes thinking of you when he was alone was the only ways he could get off, before you started dating. Even finding porn of a woman who looked like you wasn't enough. It had to be you.

And after the first time he felt your pretty pink pussy swallow his cock whole? Oh, he was addicted. Addicted and whipped, a few of his colleagues would say...

The professor and the school nurse; a bit of a cliche; but it was a nice one. The two of you had even played with a slutty nurse outfit or two.

You not always being the nurse...

"Fuck, Miggs, 'm so close." You whine loudly. He could see in his mind's eye how fast your fingers would be working your clit, maybe even giving in and plunging one of your silicone toys in and out of your tight hole for him.

In fact, he could imagine it so closely he could hear it.

"Shit, baby..." He hissed, his hand working his length furiously, now, almost in a race with you to see who would cum first. "You on speaker??"

"Mhmm~" You whine, your air leaving your body in wet-hot pants, the sound of your slick pussy being fucked--by your hand or your toy, he couldn't place--but the sound of it had his balls tightening up already.

"Gonna cum for me, mi amor?" Miguel huffed and puffed, more thick precum dribbling down from his tip. He smeared it over himself, using the fluid as lube to help hasten his impending orgasm.

"Yeah, baby~"

He snarled, the sound of stroking skin lewd and loud; your moans the best pornography his ears could ever be graced with.

"Cum for me, honey." Miguel whined, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he released his cock long enough to yank his shirt up over the soft, rounded edge of his tummy.

Immediately after, his hand returned once more around the thick pulsing shaft of him; stroking, tugging, milking himself like he knew your sweet cunt would. Your tight, wet, needy pussy that was dying for a drop of his cum.

As you wantonly moaned; he could imagine you splayed out in bed, legs wide and mouth open as you shout your orgasm out for him to hear, drowning out the outside world... and as his eyes would drift down, he could imagine your belly, cute and round; a baby kicking out at his hand as he caressed the stretched-out skin.

The image of you carrying his baby sent his mind into a blazing fire, the tightening in his balls and swelling of his cock too much to bear. Miguel arched his back, the wheels of his chair squeaking faintly across the floor as he curled his toes in his polished shoes, hot, thick ropes of cum shooting out to coat his belly, fingers, and even the underside of his desk; your name leaving his lips in a flurry of obscene prayers.

His mind was fuzzy as he slowly came down from his high, the sound of your giggle snapping him back to reality:

"See you when you get home, Miggy~"

The phone hangs up, and Miguel is left with his pearly white mess coating his belly, making his skin and hair sticky. At least he didn't get any on his shirt. This time.

The bell rang, suddenly, shaking him to full lucidity from his post-coital haze, his hairs standing on end and making him jolt up straight.

He hastily grabbed a few tissues from his desk drawer and began cleaning up, shoving a few stray stands of his graying hair back into place as he began to hear the chatter and footfall of students in the halls.

Oh, you would pay for this when you got home, all right.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Tim Visits Curly in the Reformatory

Small fic I wrote based on @pumpkinsy0 's addition to this post.

*************************

The reformatory is the exact same as it was when Tim was here last, five years ago, before he got old enough and his juvenile record long enough the courts decided he was beyond reforming and started sending him to the cooler at the ripe old age of sixteen and a half. Impersonal grey stone walls, hard faced staff, heavy locks on each and every door. Tim is sure if he was in the cafeteria it would have the same chipped yellowish linoleum and serve the same barely palatable slop, just like he knows the barracks probably still house the same iron bunks and lumpy mattresses they make the inmates- sorry, students- make with tight hospital corners before anyone is allowed so much as a bite of food.

Of course, Tim won’t get to see any of his old haunts because as a non inmate the only place he’s allowed is the visitor area. He’s lucky even to be here- unsurprisingly Curly hasn’t proven himself to be a model inmate, and so was supposed to have lost visitation privileges for the month. Tim had to make up some sob story about a dead auntie and god rest her soul just to be allowed in the door.

The visitation room is made up of the same grey walls as the rest of the place, but the room has a half decent carpet and plastic chairs and tables scattered throughout. It’s better than the visitation he’s allowed in the cooler which is all cold metal benches and glass screens, two way telephones and ‘fifteen minutes no longer’.

Keys rattle and the door off the side of the room opens, a hard faced guard practically shoving Curly through the door, who’s grinning like a chessy cat, cussing the guard out in creole and looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

He practically swaggers over, leaving the guard at the door- yet another perk of the reformatory, that they’re not chaining him to the table- and takes a seat across from Tim.

“Hey Tim.”

The reformatory has always suited Curly, always left him entirely in his element, able to wreak havoc and cause trouble without ever really getting punished for it. For someone who loves nothing more than attention and consequences he can deliberately fight back against, it’s perfect.

Tim dreads the day the courts give up on Curly too and start sending him to the cooler. The reformatory suits him, but the cooler might break him. There’s an undeniable softness to Curly- he hides it well, but it’s there, always has been, and Tim knows the Curly that goes into the cooler for the first time will not be the same Curly who comes out.

“Curly,” he nods, and Curly’s grin widens. He’s a feral housecat raised in a lion’s den, and has never once managed to actually keep his cool, “I see they chopped off that mop of yours.”

That makes him frown, rubbing a hand self consciously across his shaved head. 

“Ain’t like I had a choice now is it?”

Curly hates looking lousy- Tim blames the vanity on him sharing half a soul with Angel- and short hair has never suited him. 

They lapse into silence. Tim because silence is the only thing in the whole world that makes Curly uncomfortable and because the little shit deserves to squirm. Curly because he must know he isn’t supposed to have visitors, which means he knows Tim isn’t here for a mere social call. This visit is important, and Tim knows Curly knows it. His kid brother is stupid but he isn’t dumb, and he’s scarily perceptive when it comes to reading emotions. 

“How is it,” Tim asks when Curly starts fidgeting proper and glancing at the guard like he might try something to piss him off, “that you were sentenced to six months and after being here less than a week they’ve upped it to seven?”

Curly shrugs, that shit eating grin taking over his face once again, “got into it with some asshole in the dining hall. The guards didn’t much like that.”

“And how is it,” Tim continues, wishing for a cigarette and knowing he’ll get kicked out faster than lightning if he pulls one out here, “that you’ve already lost your visitation priviledges?”

“Poor old auntie delilah,” Curly drawls, dodging around the question, “good thing they were nice enough to let you come and comfort me about her passin’.”

“Cut the shit Curly.” Tim orders, “enough causin’ trouble. You could be outta here in four months if you keep your head down. Hell, maybe even three considering this place is prone to overcrowding and this is only your second offence. But only if you play right with the staff and make like a good little reformed schoolboy.”

“Why?” For all he likes his games, Curly’s done playing, eyes sharp, “What’s goin on?”

“We need you back in Tulsa.” 

“Why?” Curly demands again, a spark of panic lighting in his eye. This is unusual behaviour, especially for Tim, and loathe as he is to admit it, Curly can tell right off, “is something wrong with Angel?”

Per usual, Angel’s been the exact definition of a fucking piece of work ever since Curly got locked up, because the twins don’t do well with separation. Yesterday she and ma had gotten into it, and he’d practically had to pry her off the old bitch, but not before she’d ripped out a chunk of ma’s hair. Then she’d gone and baited his two best bruisers into a brawl at the dingo, and now Ricky was getting charged and Danny would be recovering for a few weeks. Just this morning she’d gone over to Buck Merril’s and if rumours were true had hooked up with one of Merril’s shadier friends, some asshole new in town and determined to cause trouble. If she kept up like this until Curly got back, Tim was gonna have to keep her on a very short leash- and Angela never liked following rules.

“She’s fine. Shackin’ up with that buddy of Merill’s, Jack or whatever the fuck, but she’s fine.”

Curly curses. “That asshole will swing at her sooner or later.”

“He won’t,” Tim and some of the gang had made that very clear to him before he drove down here, “and if he does I’ll take care of it.”

“Then what’s goin’ on? How come you want me playin’ goody two shoes in here, huh?”

Tim sighs. “You read the paper in here at all?”

Curly looks at him incredulously, and yeah, that’s fair. It was a stupid question.

“Of course you didn’t. I forgot you can’t read.”

“I can too!” Curly shouts, lowering his voice when the guard makes a move to grab him, “I can! It just…it ain’t easy. The letters all jump everywhere.”

“We need you in Tulsa,” Tim tells him, brushing past it. Reading has always been a sore spot with Curly, and Tim doesn’t want to shame him more than he already has. It wasn't his fault every teacher he’d ever had had glanced at his name on the registrar and immediately abandoned him as a lost cause. “Shit went down last week. You missed a hell of a rumble last week.”

“Fucking socs,” Cury scowls, “did we win?”

“Of course,” It’d be a cold day in hell before any of them lost a rumble to the socs, “but uh, the rumble wasn’t all that happened.”

“TIm.” Curly is as serious as he ever gets, “What happened? Why are you bein’ so weird?”

“Dallas is dead,” Tim admits, and hates that it stings. He hated Dally as much as he liked him, but it was rare he ever found someone he understood so well. The guys in his gang were all a little afraid of him and he liked it that way, and the Curtis’ were too nice for all they were good fighters, but Dally Winston was the same type of asshole as him, loyal to no one, and just about the only person Tim ever really had fun with. Much as he hated to admit it, he was really gonna miss him.

“Winston?” Curly’s eyebrows shoot up, “Shit, I’m sorry man. What happened?”

“Shot,” Tim manages, “he was pointing a heater at the fuzz, the dumbass.”

“Shit,” Curly repeats, shaking his head, “Dallas ain’t stupid. The fuck was he doin’ baiting the cops?”

“He was mad. That little dark haired kid, Johnny. Him and Ponyboy Curtis got caught up in a murder rap, stabbed some soc in the park and skipped town. Got caught up in some fire at the church they ran to, saved a bunch of kids. But Cade got caught up in it, died in the hospital a few days later. Guess ol’ Dal couldn’t take it. Shit kid, you really ain’t heard a lick of this from the papers?”

“Ponyboy was in a fire?” Curly asks, ignoring every other piece of Tim’s story just like he knew he would. Curly was stupid over that Curtis kid as much as he pretended he wasn’t, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes. Tim had seen Curly with crushes before, but none half as bad as the one he had on the Curtis kid. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Got a concussion in the rumble but other than that he’s ok. Darry says he’s taking the whole situation mighty hard though. Him and Cade were good buddies, and Dal was in their gang.”

“They just lost their folks too,” Curly recalls, biting his lip. “Hey, uh, next time you see him tell him I said to take it easy, ok?”

Tim rolls his eyes at his kid brother being reduced to an absolute lovesick fool. “Tell him yourself, I ain’t your messenger.”

“C’mon man,” Curly whines, “don’t be a dick.”

“Don’t get mouthy,” Tim warns, rising when the guard starts making his way over, no doubt ready to tell them their time is up, “and quit causing trouble. Things haven’t cooled down with the socs yet. We need you in Tulsa.”

He allows himself a self satisfied grin as he’s escorted outside. If there’s one thing that can motivate Curly to do anything these days, it’s mentioning Ponyboy Curtis.

Maybe he should pay a visit to the redheaded kid. See how he reacts when he mentions Curly to him. After all, if Curly’s gonna date the kid, Tim should probably get to know him a bit first. Vet him y’know. Plus it’ll annoy Curly.

Four months later Tim makes the drive out to the reformatory and if he just so happens to bring a redheaded Curtis kid with him, so be it.  He’s helping Darry out ‘cause apparently the kid’s been too quiet since everything went down.

Curly’s eyes widen the second he stumbles out the gate and lays eyes on Tims new passenger. He stammers out some half crocked greeting, clearly caught off guard, and Ponyboy grins, despite looking a little confused. Tim watches Curly’s failed attempts to flirt the whole way back to Tulsa, hiding his laugher the whole time.

[starrystevie]

"since when do you know how to use a gun?"

steve's standing in the bunker doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, hip balanced against the door frame. he's watching eddie meticulously clean what used to be a basic rifle that's turned into some monstrous thing hopper built with an additional barrel and multiple scopes. they just got back from a big fight that took a lot out of them all, so he's not surprised that eddie stays silent before clicking something into place. the sound of the metal echoes off the barren walls and he finally turns to look at steve.

"since i started hunting with dear old dad when i was 6."

he pulls off a scope, peers inside and frowns at something steve can't see before blowing against the glass lightly. there's a rag sitting next to him covered in some mix of blood, guts and grease and steve wouldn't be surprised if it isn't the first cloth he's had to use on that particular rifle. it's one of nancy's favorites, after all, and she's not known to clean up after every fight.

eddie looks good with a gun in his hand, steve thinks in some dark recess of his brain that ignores the part where he hates guns. he thinks about the part that loves the focus on eddie's face when he holds one instead, his jaw set in place. eddie looks older, they all do, but with scars dotting his face and wrapped around his neck and days old stubble covering his chin because they haven't had enough water for a shave, he looks mature.

there's a permanent scowl on his face that seems wrong, takes over where cheeky grins used to be. he misses the days where eddie's laugh was the only thing ringing in steve's ears, when his eyebrows weren't pinched in the middle, when he would play alongside the kids with wild expressions and jokes to match.

steve guesses coming back from the dead could do that to a guy.

"hey," he offers, a bit quiet and hard to hear over the clinking of the metal and the ambient sounds of the underground bunker they've lived in for months now. eddie's head stays dropped over the gun as he cleans but he gives a hum in response, so steve takes it as a go ahead. "i think i'm ready to take you up on that offer."

eddie snorts. he wipes some grease over a piece of the gun before setting it down on the table to grab something else steve couldn't name if he tried. "gotta be more specific, stevie boy."

"i want-" steve huffs and readjusts his stance to look more serious. he wants to bring eddie back, but that might be too hard to do in the apocalypse. "i want you to teach me how to shoot."

they spend their allotted 30 minutes above ground later that afternoon in the open space that used to be an old garden. there's trees surrounding them and cans sitting on an old cardboard box structure yards ahead of them. everything's tinted red from the upside down sky that bled into hawkins a year ago and never seemed to leave.

the only gun steve wanted was a handgun, a tiny thing that he can hide in the back of his waistband if he needed, backup for if he lost his bat in a fight. it's not that he wants to shoot, that can be left to nancy and hopper and apparently eddie now that he's healed up enough to fight. no, steve just wants a way to connect with eddie again. a way to bring a little glimmer of light back into his eyes that look more and more like the upside down darkness everyday.

"you need to hold it tighter, steve." eddie's next to him with an arm hovering under steve's elbow as he aims at the pepsi can in the middle of the stack. "it'll throw you back when you shoot, so you gotta be ready."

steve lets his fingers curl tighter around the gun, careful not to press down with his pointer finger that's over the trigger. he can hear eddie huff under his breath and then suddenly he's there, hand curled around his arm and chest pressed against his side. eddie's hand whips up to wrap around steve's on the gun and he shakes his arm like he's testing how tense steve is.

"noodle arms ain't gonna help you. hold it tight."

there's something about the red sky and decay in the air and eddie's gravely voice in his ear that gets to him, his southern drawl more prominent now that he's come back. it's like he's trying to be wayne, trying to replicate what he thinks a man should be because the best model for it that he's had is wayne. steve plants his feet firmly in the ground to ignore the icy shiver passing through his body.

eddie breathes in deep and steve copies him, his shoulder pressing in firmly to eddie as he does. it feels like the first real breath he's had in a while and all it took was eddie munson touching him for steve to breathe again.

"that's better," eddie says and drops his hand from steve's elbow to hover somewhere around his waist. "be relaxed, but concentrate. keep steady and don't let your eyes look away. how do you feel?"

even though he asked a question, steve feels like he shouldn't answer. in some ways, it feels like a trap, like if he says what he actually feels then it's all going to fall apart. but there's this part of him, this tiny, nagging part of him that doesn't want to go back into the bunker without telling eddie how he's felt for far too long.

"okay, i think."

"go ahead and shoot when you're ready."

"...okay."

they stand in silence for a beat. steve can feel eddie's breath tickling the long hairs at his neck and there's a ringing in his ears that he doesn't know what to do with. the air is more suffocating than ever and steve wonders if he pulled out his pocket knife if he could cut through the tension.

eddie's hand finally lands on steve's waist and it blazes through him like a bullet. how is he supposed to shoot a gun, this all powerful thing, when eddie is there? he's breathing and he's alive and he's right where steve wants him to be. he knows he must tense up, knows he must take in a shuddering breath at the contact because-

"stop," eddie says, breaking the silence and pushing away from steve. he feels colder now, the fire that licked along his veins not 3 seconds ago diminishing at the distance between them. steve sighs, takes his hand off the trigger and lets his arm hand limply at his side. "why did you ask me to help you with this? why not nancy or hop?"

his questions hits steve like an accusation and steve wishes he had expected for it not to happen. this is eddie now, he's a little bit harsh and more than a little bit angry at the world. and god, steve had hoped that being with him, that being outside with him would help just even for a minute.

he wishes the upside down would open up and swallow him whole so he could escape the glare that eddie's throwing his way, but he couldn't stand to be an addition to the pain eddie carries around on his back. steve looks him in the eye, shoulders pushed back and something like determination on his face, and hopes he can feel what he's feeling, too.

"you know why."

it's whispered but he knows eddie hears him. it's loud, always loud in hawkins now, but he knows eddie hears him.

somewhere in between dragging eddie out of hell and nursing him back to semi-okayness and staying up in the middle of the night with cold rags on foreheads and arms wrapped around waists, something started growing. steve knows he can't have all of eddie from 86 back, and that's okay. he's not the steve from 86, either.

but he'll try with every last breath he has to see him smile again.

eddie steps closer, shuffles his boots across the dirt until he can take the gun from steve's hand. he does something with it that steve can't really see, unloads the ammo and puts the empty pieces into the deep pockets of his cargo pants. there's lighting flashing across the blood red sky and he's sees it mirrored in eddie's eyes.

"you mean it?" eddie whispers back. steve is strong and he's been holding on for so long to see a light like that in the dark brown pools he's staring into that it cracks a smile onto his face and he sees eddie's lips pull up just the tiniest bit to copy him. it's a start.

"yeah."

steve knows they don't have much time left topside and soon enough hopper will be yelling over the speaker they wired up to the bunker door that they have to come in. he knows they don't have much time left in whatever hawkins has become, more and more creatures breaking through the liminal space between worlds every day.

they don't have the time, but steve would tell the earth to stop spinning for eddie any day, and fitting their palms together to tangle their fingers seems like the right way to spend whatever time they have left.