#i have to pull myself together and do some laundry and make dinner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oh-koenig-my-koenig · 7 months ago

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doing the laundry

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, mdni, smutty domesticity, könig likes panties a lot ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (just like everything with panties i could think about), mutual mast*rbation, creampie)

König said he was gonna do some chores before we head out for dinner, but it seems like he's taking his sweet time. I go to look for him in this big ass house, running down to the cellar, where the washing machine and the dryer are. He said he'll do the laundry, so I'll probably find hi-

I peak my head in the door and my mind blanks, the words halting in my throat when I see him. Standing in front of the washing machine, his shorts pulled down, pooling around his knees. His hand is around his dick, moving up and down his length in hasty motions.

A piece of fabric between the fingers of his other hand. His nose buried deep in the soft purple, grunts dropping from his lips as he fucks his fist.

The frilly lace is giving it away. Those are my panties. My panties!

He is never shy about telling me how much he likes my taste, how much he loves having his face buried in my pussy. But this is a little different. My jaw drops, a gasp torn from my lips and he finally notices me. Dropping the hand from his face. Red hot blush staining his cheeks when he looks at me.

"Oh fuck, Liebes... I'm sorry.", he almost stammers, his mouth falling open, sucking in air.

Fuck. He looks so good. His chest peppered with dark hair heaving with his deep breaths. A stray strand of hair hanging over his face, sticking to his cheek. His abs taut, his dick hanging heavy between his legs, hard and red. The tip is leaking precum, wetting his hand, leaving stains on the sweatpants, as he tries to pull it up. Caught red-handed jerking off sniffing my panties.

As he is scrambling to get himself together, I take a few steps into the room, in his direction. Stopping his wrist when he tries to pull his sweatpants up even further.

"Don't stop on my account.", I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto his jaw. He's still frozen in place almost like a statue, as I brush a strand of hair out of his face. Leaving him standing there as I make my way to the washing machine, lifting the hamper from its top and setting myself on the plastic covered surface.

Stupid heady desire rushing through my veins while I get rid of my jeans, purposefully keeping my panties on, a similar pair to the one he still got in his right hand. His eyes widen a little bit, the lustful stare meeting me while I sit there.

"I wanna watch.", I say, hoarse, almost soundlessly.

A little shiver shakes him, I can see it in the way his shoulders tense for just a moment.

"Okay." Taking one, two steps back until his back hits the wall, his hand dropping to his dick again as he leans back. This time it's the one holding my panties, the lace wrapping around his girth while he slowly starts to jerk off, his eyes meeting mine, a little smirk playing around his lips.

It’s not the first time seeing him play with himself, but still…

Mesmerized I watch him, biting my lip. I lean back too, propping myself up on my arm, and lift my legs up, positioning them at the edge and dropping my knees to the side. Showing off the panties I'm wearing right now, the fabric over my pussy already a little damp. Seeing him like that got me worked up a bit...

My hand moves down my body until it's between my legs, the fingertips brushing over the wet lace and I can't help but moan, the first contact with my clit - even through the fabric - making me squirm.

He falters a little bit, his eyes intently on my fingers, his own hand stopping for a moment before picking up speed again. He spits, down at his own dick, wetting it a little more, while gripping tighter.

My strokes get needier, feeling the wetness seep into the fabric as I start to rub myself, my hips bucking into my hand and I can’t help the sounds I’m making. Feeling the roughness of the lace against the sensitive skin, and the growing slick underneath.

As I pull the fabric to the side, he sighs. “Hmm, yes, stuff yourself, Hexe.”, the little order dropping from his lips.

And I’m more than happy to oblige, my middlefinger slipping into me. Adding another finger quickly, sighing as I try to reach deeper. Giving him full view of how I’m fingering myself, a little grin stalking onto my face, moans getting pulled from me as I push inside me, over and over again.

The simmering heat in his gaze feels like soft touches all over my body while he fucks his fist, his brows pulling together, his eyes glazing over as his jaw goes slack, a telltale sign that he is close.

"Fuck, g'na come.", he groans, his hand moving faster up and down his shaft, squeezing the tip with every pass.

"Not yet.", I tell him harshly, and he lets go of his dick, almost surprisinfly obedient. Breathing heavily, but just looking at me, his eyes narrowing, the lids droopy.

"Come here.", I mouth, making a 'come hither'- motion with my fingers, ignoring the wetness on them, and he follows in an instant.

"Yes, Ma'm."

Just two strides and his thighs almost collide with the washing machine, his dick hanging between us as he props himself up with one arm and leans forward.

I take the panties from his grasp, telling him "Open up." and he drops his jaw without hesitation. I love it when he takes charge, doing me however he likes to, but seeing the big hulking man just do everything I tell him to, also does things to me.

The look on his face, when I push my panties into his mouth, his eyes rolling back, groaning, sends another shiver over me. His hips rut forward, the tip of his dick nudging against my pussy, against the panties I'm still wearing, which only makes him groan more, the sounds getting muffled by my undies.

I chuckle a little, pressing a tiny kiss to his nose, before I pull the already soaked fabric to the side. He doesn't wait another second, pushing into me, and the sudden stretch pulls a loud whine from my lips. My hands shoot out to hold onto him, my fingertips digging into his shoulders as he grips the top of the washing machine and starts to fuck me. Deep hard thrusts, pushing me into the surface, and I desperately try to meet his movements, try not to get pushed off the surface.

He never holds back his sounds, his grunts and deep moans intermingling with mine when he is fucking me, but with the impromptu gag they get stifled in the most delicious way. Sounding a bit more desperate too. My own sounds reverberate off the walls, the small cellar room creating an echo of my moans, the slapping of skin against skin, the rattling of the machine underneath me as König's thrusts shake it.

The tip of his dick reaching deep inside me, his girth stretching me when he pushes balls-deep.

I reposition myself, my legs up high, ignoring the hardness of the surface beneath my butt. Leaning further back and my feet dangling over his shoulders as my knees get pushed into my front. The change of angle has me lose my mind, filling me up just right.

“Yes, yes, just like-”, I plead, my eyebrows pulled up, and my eyes going wide, the words getting stuck in my throat. I’m desperately hanging onto him, my fingernails digging into his biceps, leaving red marks - something he won’t mind at all - while I come. Making a mess on his lap, wetting the panties I'm still wearing even more.

König doesn’t stop, pushing my legs further back, his hands grabbing the plush of my thighs while he sinks into my pussy, his long hair whipping back and forth, the soft strands brushing over naked arms and shoulders. His eyes roll back, the expression on his face mirroring the one from before, when he had his nose buried in my panties, and he comes as well, his upper body shaking hard, the plastic surface aching as his hands press into it.

I can only stare at him, my mouth fallen open, my eyes fixed on him. The groan leaving his throat, getting caught in the fabric of my panties, sends a tingle down my spine.

His hips stutter forward, his dick pumping into me, sticky cum spurting inside me, spilling over my pussy and panties. He slows down, pushing into me one last time, slick dripping out of me.

He’s pulling back, softly caressing my thighs where his fingertips left little bruises with how hard he was grabbing me, lowering gently.

I jump from the washing machine, landing on the floor, grinning up at König. He’s still gagged, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. I reach up and pull my panties from his mouth, soaked in his spit, and he catches my wrist. Pressing a few soft kisses to it, and the back of my hand. When he lets go, I toss the little piece of fabric into the hamper.

“Thank you, Liebes.”, he hums, smiling down at me, drowsiness dropping his lids and blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh, you’re so very welcome, Sir.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips while he pulls up his shorts.

Grabbing the waistband of my panties, I pull them down instead, the damp fabric clinging to me for a moment, and then I put them in his pocket, patting it, gesturing him with a little wink, that those were his now. As he seemed to like them so much.

He grumbles something in German, pulling me against him again, capturing my mouth in a kiss. A long and sweet one that has me melt against him.

“Shower and then going out to dinner?”, he suggests, pressing me against his sweat slick chest, his arm coming around me. “I’ll do the laundry later.”, grinning down at me apologetically. Like I ever could be mad at him when his little distraction lead to some hot and kinky sex.

"Yes, cause that was my last washed pair of undies.", I tell him, with a sly grin and a sidelook at the basket full of dirty clothes. "Seems like I need to take a page from your book and go commando for once."

He groans, the sound almost turning to a little growl. "You're killing me, Hexe."

I giggle. "Just pray that I don't pick out my one short dress today...", I tease him.

He catches my chin, making me look up at him as he leans down, coming closer and closer. "Oh, quite the contrary.", he drawls, his signature smirk stalking onto his face. "I pray that you wear that one cause I like it. And you're still gonna be a good girl and behave."

My mouth drops open, sucking in a breath as he presses a kiss to my lips which is a threat and a promise at the same time. He lets go of me, and I grin up at him, before I back away, still holding his gaze.

"We'll see...", I say, dashing away through the door, but his hand still lands on my butt in a loud spank. I laugh as I keep running, up the stairs.

“Can’t catch meeee.”, I shout over my shoulder which always does the trick. I’m scooped up within seconds, his strong arms lifting me up.

“If you keep this up, we’re never gonna catch the reservation…”, he grumbles, but I see the mischief flashing in his eyes.

My answer is a giggle, my hand tangling in his hair, grabbing the long strands between my fingers, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of his face.

~ More in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #spending time with mh!k #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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starlight-and-snowflakes · 1 year ago

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5 strategies that have improved my executive functioning in 2023

1. Preparing tasks in advance

This tip has been one of the most useful things for me to be able to actually get the things I want to do done without getting stuck in the process. I am very prone to difficulties with task initiation and task switching. Basically I've found that if I check what activities are upcoming for that day in my calendar (but you can use any task that you want to do sometime that day) then I set the task up in advance it's a lot easier to actually do the task.

So if my goal is to stream after dinner then I turn my pc on and have my setup ready to go before dinner. If I want to do a Pilates workout I set up my mat an hour before I actually want to do the workout. If I want to go to the gym I get into gym clothes at the start of the day so I don't have to change later.

I basically eliminate all the difficult prep work and then I find doing the task so much easier when I get to it.

2. Task switching when stuck

A lot of neurodivergent people have issues with getting 'stuck' or 'frozen', myself included. Whether it's autistic inertia or decision paralysis or something else it's very common to find yourself unable to do anything at all. You'll know that even if you put your phone away or stop what you're doing you'll just continue to sit there doing nothing.

The solution to this for me has consistently been to switch goal. I want to get up and shower but can't? I'll find that I can pull my laptop out and get some work done instead (and then shower after lunch later in the day). I am stuck when I want to stream? I find I can do my skincare instead (and I ended up streaming the next day).

Yes this means you don't get your original goal done when you wanted but you get something done, and something is better than nothing.

3. Task chaining

I've found that task chaining is the easiest way for me to get multiple tasks done. It's basically building upon your success. Take the example from my task switching section where I couldn't get myself to start streaming so I decided to do my skincare instead. While doing skincare I remembered I wanted to ask my brother about a particular product. So suddenly I'm capable of going to ask him about it. I couldn't even get out of bed before but now I have the motivation to move (I keep my skincare next to my bed so I didn't have to get up prior to this). After talking to him I decide I can go downstairs and make tea (something I originally wanted to do before streaming but was too stuck to do). While downstairs my mother tells me that she has a pile of laundry for me. I decide to take it back upstairs and put it away immediately. While doing so I figure I may as well sort all the laundry that's piled up on my floor as well.

I've gone from not doing anything to completing 4 separate tasks. If I wanted to get up and put the clothes on my floor away originally I'd never have been able to do it. I built on my successfully completed tasks and chained them together. Of course you should still remember to rest after chaining a number of tasks together.

4. Prioritise harder tasks earlier

I get all my energy at the start of the day and feel quite tired by the end of the day. This is how most people feel due to how our circadian rhythms function. Because of this I have found it's a lot easier to get difficult tasks done in the morning.

So now instead of trying to clean my room or go to the gym at 5pm I'll do it at 9am. I'll save 5pm for my easy tasks, things like studying Korean, meditating, studying geography, and coding. Take some time to figure out which tasks you find easy and which you find hard. If you consistently find yourself unable to do a task that's a hint that it's difficult for you. Vice versa if you're consistently capable of a task it might be a sign it's an easier one for you.

5. Using an AI scheduler

I saved this one for last, not because it's ineffective, it's actually made a huge difference in my life. But it does cost money to take full advantage of this so I put it down the bottom. Still there's a lot to be said for using an AI scheduler. I hate choosing what to do and have always preferred to be told what tasks I should do each day. It also takes a huge amount of mental energy to decide what tasks I should do when each week and organise them in advance.

Enter Reclaim, the AI scheduler of my dreams (there are lots of other ones on the market too like Motion! Take a look around and see if you can find one you like but unfortunately they all seem paid). Reclaim does have a free version but for me their paid version is necessary to achieve my goals.

I set up all my tasks and habits in Reclaim, I can customise how often I want to do things, how long they should take, and what hours I have free. Then I just check my calendar each day and see what tasks I'm meant to do. If I end up taking more time than expected I just hit the 'reschedule' button on a task and it's automatically slotted in somewhere else that week. This has definitely made one of the biggest changes to my quality of life I could probably make a whole separate post about using Reclaim.

That's all the tips that have worked for me this year so far, maybe some of them might help you!

#actually autistic #actually neurodivergent #executive dysfunction #adhd #autism #executive function #long

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jade-parcels · 2 years ago

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🌱🌱🌱Silly little Haitham bf hcs to celebrate his banner 🌱🌱🌱

🌱Haitham is a relatively good cook but he doesn’t venture into cook books for new recipes. If it was up to him, you’d eat the same 4 meals over and over. He enjoys rice, meat and veggies so every dish he makes will include those things. When you make something new for him, he’s always appreciative and willing to try it and even if he isn’t a big fan, he’ll eat it to make you happy. Food is food to him, it doesn’t have to be his favorite in order for him to eat it.

🌱Al Haitham’s the type of guy to take a ‘little sip’ of your drink when you tell him to try it except he’s a Big Man and he takes a HUGE mouthful… then hands back the almost empty glass with a “yeah, that’s pretty good. I might get some for myself”…. This bitch… get your own >:(

🌱Haitham would fold your laundry for you and put it away if he noticed that you were overwhelmed by it all. However, the downside is he reorganizes as he goes, putting things in places that ‘make logical sense’. Now your shirts are in color order and socks are separated by length

🌱He’s secretly a cuddle bug ;-; he wants you to be close to him whenever possible. He isn’t a fan of pda but behind closed doors he wants you to sit close against his side, lay in his lap, rest your head on his chest, run your hand through his hair, kiss his cheek… Poor guy is so smart- he’s so straight forward but that’s his own downfall cause when it comes to affection, he gets embarrassed to ask for it. He doesn’t know how to word it. “Hug me” is too demanding… “May I have a hug?” Sounds too childish… “I want a hug” sounds out of character to him. So he just hopes you catch onto what he wants. Sometimes actions speak louder than words

🌱When he’s out jogging or taking a walk after work (he’s gotta stretch his legs after sitting doing paperwork) he’ll slow down when passing by fruit stalls. He makes a point of buying your favorite fruits for you almost daily so you have a lil snack for after dinner or for breakfast the next morning. He’s a regular at these stalls now because of you :) <3

🌱Haitham’s favorite part of a party is leaving. He will happily take the blame when you get tired and want to leave. Like the true gentleman he is, he’ll use the excuse of ‘I have work in the morning. It’s time for us to get going’ so you two can go home. Are you going straight to bed? Maybe. Are you going home to cuddle and read together? Very likely

🌱While he prides himself in his self control, you’re Haitham’s weakness. He’s easy to rile up, easy to pull into an alleyway to kiss behind shops or between trees. He can’t really hide when he blushes cause he doesn’t just blush lightly, he turns beet red from his neck up to his ears so please don’t embarrass him at work but if you do he’ll return the favor later so… ;)

🌱Haitham prefers to be the big spoon when you guys sleep cause hugging something or someone is comforting for him. In his college years when he wasn’t getting laid, he went to sleep hugging his pillow… That’s what he did before he met you too. Now he has you in his arms, you’re secure and keep him feeling comfy n warm. Sweetie pie <3 if you ask why he likes to hold you that way you’ll get a long winded lecture about emotional security, couple co-sleeping and so on lmao

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #I love him dearly he’s such a sweetie

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vodika-vibes · 3 months ago

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Together

Summary: You spend an evening with Alpha.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 830

Warnings: None

A/N: I don't have a lot of words in me today, so I wrote something small and easy. I hope you like it!

Click HERE to join my taglist!

You yawn as the storm outside starts raging a little harder. You’re no stranger to storms, Kamino has them all of the time, but tonight's storm is particularly bad.

Bad enough that they had to strap down the ships to keep them from getting knocked into the ocean.

You yawn again and whine as you stretch out across your couch, turning your exhausted gaze away from the holofilm playing in front of you to see what time it is.

It’s still early.

Well, early-ish.

It’s late enough that you could get up and start dinner if you wanted. However, it’s also still early enough that you can wait an hour before you have to start making food.

Assuming you don’t fall asleep on the couch.

You yawn a third time and quickly realize that you are running the risk of falling asleep and skipping dinner, so you sit up and swing your legs to the floor.

Your suite on Kamino looks just like all of the other long-term suites. No colors, just white walls and white floors and fluorescent lights. Naturally, when you moved in you made some adaptions to make it more comfortable for you.

Thick carpets, cloth hanging on the walls to give the room some color, blankets running every color of the rainbow, and plants filling the room with life, making you feel much more at home.

It also has the added benefit of making your suite warmer than the other suites.

You silently pad across your home until you reach the kitchen, and you start pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cabinets. You’re not sure what you’re going to make, yet, but you’ll figure it out as you cook.

You’re about to pull a box of rice from the cabinet when your apartment door slides open, and you hear heavy footsteps, and very familiar grumbling, coming from the entryway. A smile lifts your lips, Alpha is home.

Eagerly, you drop everything on the counter and poke your head around the corner to greet Alpha, only to have to press your hand over your mouth when you see him.

He’s soaked, water dripping from his armor and pooling on the floor.

“Did you fall in?” You ask amusement in your voice.

He shoots you a look and finishes stripping off his armor, setting it out so it can dry overnight, and then he peels off his top and tosses it into the laundry room.

“I think I’d be less wet if I did,” Alpha jokes as he heads towards the bedroom, likely to grab something dry to wear.

“So the storm really is as bad as it sounds?” You ask as you trail after him. You sit on the edge of the bed as he moves over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of sleep pants.

“Worse. And it’s not improving.” He tosses the bottoms of his blacks into the laundry bin and smoothly pulls on his sleep pants before he walks over to you and lightly taps your chin with two fingers.

You grin at him and get to your feet to slide into his arms, “Is it getting worse?” You ask as you rub your cheek against his chest.

“That’s what it looks like. Everything’s being shut down until the storm lessens.”

You pull back to look up at him, “Meaning?”

“Meaning, cyare, that you have me all to yourself for the next couple of days.”

Somehow, your grin widens and you hop up to wrap your arms around his neck, “Oh no! Whatever will I do with myself?”

“Brat,” Alpha says affectionately as he wraps his arms around you, “I’m sure you’ll come up with something to keep yourself occupied.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” As soon as you’re sure that Alpha won’t let you fall, you press your hands against his cheeks and you lean in to press your forehead against his, “I missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning,” Alpha reminds you, his hands firm against the back of your thighs to hold you securely against him. “In fact, you laid on top of me and tried to convince me to sleep in with you.”

“You refused,” You reply with a small pout.

“Mm, I did. And I will every other time until this war is over.” You pout a little more and then giggle as he shifts you to catch your lips with his own, “It’s the only way to keep you safe, cyar’ika.”

“I know.” You bump your nose against his, “I can’t wait until the war is over and we can go somewhere else.”

“Yeah?”

“Somewhere warm and sunny, where we can make our own family.” You whisper.

He chuckles, “You want me to give you babies, beautiful?”

“Mm, someday.”

“It’s a promise.” Alpha kisses you again, and then lowers you back to your feet, “for now, how about dinner and a movie?”

You grin at him, “Date night?”

“Whatever you want, beautiful. I’ll make it happen.”

@bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes @imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni

#star wars #tcw #alpha-17 x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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starlight-lesbians · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/scealaiscoite/756187411996950528/prompts-for-helping-bathe-an-injured-loved

also dinah taking care of greaseball after an injury?

a/n: ok this is precious omg

Suds n Bubbles

warnings: really just injuries, implied nudity but not sexual

prompt: “so mr/mrs surly and serious likes having their hair washed for them, hm? don’t worry, i’ll keep your secret.”

Dinah was annoyed, like she was often, with her beloved girlfriend. Greaseball had once again pulled a stupid stunt to win a race and gotten herself hurt. The repair techs said she'd be fine in a couple days, but for now, Dinah was on care duty to make sure Greaseball would actually rest. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy doing it, quite the opposite really, but she was frustrated that Greaseball continued doing things she knew worried her.

They arrived back at their shared garage and Greaseball flopped unceremoniously onto the couch, whining about her head hurting from her fall. Dinah sighed and brought her an ice pack for her head, feeling how much dirt and sweat had gotten in her hair from the race, "You need to wash your hair sometime tonight, I'm not letting you in the bed this dirty."

Greaseball groaned, holding up her injured arm, "I can't wash my hair with my arm in a sling babe, can it wait?" Dinah shook her head, "Definitely not, I'll just have to do it, I guess" It wasn't like she didn't normally play with Greaseball's hair when they were going to sleep, so washing it wouldn't be any different. "So you're saying we can shower together?" Greaseball smirked at her in supremely dorky fashion considering her current position.

"Not in that way, you have a concussion, sugar" Dinah kissed her cheek, rolling her eyes when Greaseball put on a disappointed face, "I'll just wash your hair and shower myself while I'm in there, okay? No touching." Greaseball sighed and nodded, "Fine.."

Dinah hopped up from the couch and heated up some leftovers for dinner, making sure to mix a little extra diesel into Greaseball's so she'd have some extra energy. They ate dinner, and now Greaseball was dragging her feet about showering.

Managing to finally drag her much taller girlfriend into the bathroom, Dinah started helping her get undressed around the sling and get settled in the shower before she followed suit. "Okay I need you to either lean down or sit on the floor, I can't reach your head." Dinah was used to the extra height her wheels gave her, so she tended to forget exactly how short she really was. Greaseball sat down on the shower floor and looked up at Dinah expectantly, forcing back the grumbling she normally would be spewing about the situation.

Dinah started massaging some shampoo into her hair gently, and Greaseball practically melted into her hands immediately. This she was familiar with, she would always almost knock out from getting head scratches after all. "Stay upright honey, you still have to finish your shower when I'm done." Greaseball groaned and reluctantly righted herself, letting Dinah continue getting all the dirt and grease out of her hair.

“So Miss Surly and Serious likes having her hair washed for her, hm? don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.” Dinah giggled, finishing up putting conditioner in Greaseball's hair as she started to get sleepy again, grumbling nondescriptly about being called surly, and the accusation of liking the treatment she was currently receiving. She couldn't deny it much though, considering she was practically putty in Dinah's hands.

Once Dinah finished rinsing her hair off, they finished showering and got into bed, "See, now the sheets can stay clean and I have to do less laundry, isn't that nice?" Dinah ruffled Greaseball's damp hair, smiling fondly. All she heard back was an affirmative grunt before Greaseball was fast asleep with her arms secured tightly around her waist.

(aww guys they're cute please ignore that this request took me so long, also yay first non headcanoned post!! everyone cheered!!)

#starlight express london 2024 #starlight express #stex #dinah the dining car #greaseball the diesel #greasedinah #dinah starlight express #rory rambles! 💕#greaseball and dinah #dinah x greaseball

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fanfic-scribbles · 3 months ago

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Dinner Date Chapter 34

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 34: The Mission

Chapter Summary: Steve goes on a routine mission and ends up confronting the Winter Soldier. It doesn’t end well.

Chapter Word Count: 8602

A/N: I have not coherently put together how “CA:TWS” happened in this universe but I have tried to thread it through. I hope I explained it just enough for what matters, but if you’re still confused, I’ll put a summary at the very end of this chapter. That said: I am soooo sorry for how long this chapter is. I had actually wanted to combine this chapter and the next, but when all was said and done, it took everything in me not to split this chapter up into two. As a result, there is a bit more angsting than I normally do, but…you gotta have some hurt to get to the comfort. Hang in there; it’s coming <3

It figured that when Steve’s work started to die down, mine started to pick up. Not in the overly obvious ways, given how the corporate overlords were deathly allergic to paying overtime, but just enough to leave me too drained to do much other than trudge home, do basic human maintenance, and then sleep before I had to do it all over again the next day.

It was near the end of the week and on top of an especially long fucking day, that when I finally got home well after dark, I practically crawled into my apartment. I tried to hit the lights on my way in but missed, and I didn’t care enough to backtrack. Apparently I had left a lamp on in the living room this morning, (oops), so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but given I could barely keep my eyes open it barely mattered anyways.

I stumbled further in, dropping my shit to the floor and yawning so big I could just barely see a lump of something on the couch. Ugh; my laundry. Instead of contending with that, I tried to kick my shoes off. It didn’t work super great, and I ended up tripping over myself and falling down. While sitting on the floor I realized how great sitting down was, and my floor was mostly clean, and I really didn’t want to have to fight with gravity any more today anyway.

“Fuck it, I live here now,” I grumbled and flopped over to lie on the floor. It was a good floor. Clean. Sturdy, yet comfy. But…there was something in front of me.

I blinked when I realized I was staring at boots. On feet. Attached to legs. Belonging to…

“Oh. Hi Steve.” Well, that explained the light, at least. I tried to think of why he was here, and after a few seconds, a single synapse managed to fire. “Shit. Is it Thursday already?”

“Yeah.” He leaned over and looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You, uh, comfortable there, Sweetheart?”

“Mmm. It is a good floor.” I thought about moving.

Luckily Steve came down and crouched closer, next to my head. “Did you really not notice me?”

“I sort of saw a shape but I thought I left my laundry on the couch.” Hey, wait; that meant I hadn’t. “Ooo, I did my laundry. Go me.”

“Yeah, go you,” Steve chuckled and stroked my hair. “Come on, the couch is more comfortable than the floor.”

“If the couch wants me it knows where to find me.”

He said my name sternly. Well, semi-sternly, but the push was there. I sighed but rolled over so I was on my back. I extended my arms to him. “Help; I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

His laugh was quick but full, like his beautiful smile when he wasn’t sure he should show it. God, I loved that sound. Go me indeed. “I thought I was supposed to be the geriatric in this relationship,” he said and pulled me up effortlessly.

“Only to the uninitiated,” I said and brushed off my clothes. “But only one of us regularly curses their joints and back and, surprisingly, it’s not the one who bodychecks Nazis and aliens and Nazi aliens for a living.”

He smiled and pulled me in. But then, there it was– The Concerned Forehead Crease. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked and started patting over my body.

I rolled my eyes, but I put my face right next to his. “If I say ‘no,’ are you gonna keep feeling me up?” I asked. The Crease relaxed, and he smirked and kissed me. I kept him drawn in and close and he melted right into me. I wished I could have done the same but something about the moment felt…off. I chalked it up to a weird fucking week and one of the longer days of my life, but even though I tried to focus on the fact that I was home and kissing my boyfriend, something nagged at the back of my mind.

When I finally realized why I felt so weird, I pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a little dazed.

“You’re not in normal clothes.” I looked him up and down. Normal-ish, but his pants were definitely different, and I pulled back part of his jacket to see a darker swatch of his uniform. “You’re dressed for work. You’re leaving?”

His expression softened. “Not for a while yet. I did as much prep as I needed so I could come see you for a few hours. I’ll have to get back to the tower very early in the morning, but you’ll be well asleep by then.”

Steve was leaving again, for who knew how long, and I had taken my sweet time getting home and barely clinging to consciousness during the little time we had together.

“Sweetheart?” he said uncertainly and slipped his hand into mine to grip. “Are you mad at me?”

I took a deep breath and tried to exhale all my frustration. “No; no, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me; I fucking–”

“Don’t– don’t be mad,” he interrupted and kissed my head. “Things happen. It’s good enough we get to spend time together now.”

“Hmf.” I glanced at the clock. “When do you have to leave?”

“Before you wake up in the morning.”

“That’s assuming I go to sleep,” I said and started for the coffeemaker.

He snagged my hand and pulled me right back into his arms. “You are going to get some sleep.”

I scowled at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

He softened into a smile and nuzzled me. “Well, if bossing won’t work, how about bribery?”

I nipped at his jaw. “What kind of bribery?”

He kissed me. “The kind where we go make out in your bed until you fall asleep.”

That did actually sound really nice. Cozy and comfy. I eyed his outfit, and he gave a helpless shrug. “Hm,” I said. “Boots are not allowed in bed.”

“Fair enough,” he said and let go. “Go get ready, and I’ll take care of ‘em.”

I should have argued, but I trundled off with (mostly) minimal grumbling. I wanted to argue. I felt bad that Steve had been waiting around for me while I did something stupid (work; ugh). Even though I would have avoided it if I could have, it still sucked to know I’d been elsewhere instead of spending time with him when he’d be leaving again.

But I dressed for bed– fresh pajamas, without any holes to speak of, and I brushed my teeth extra nice and made sure I looked especially presentable before crawling into bed. My pillow felt so nice, but I heroically kept my eyes open, and was rewarded with a nice sight when Steve came in. Sans boots and jacket, and my but that work suit was very flattering. Dark blue was a good color on him. However, he also brought in the small soft blanket from the couch.

“The outfit’s protective, and that means it’s not all that comfortable from the outside,” he said, laying on top of the covers but draping the blanket so it covered his chest before he wrapped an arm around me and I snuggled closer.

“I’m so glad you thought of my delicate sensibilities,” I said and slid my hand behind his neck.

He grinned and opened his mouth, but I dove in to save him from himself. And myself, from him inadvertently talking his way into getting kicked out of bed. I didn’t have the most patience at the moment, but as we fell into a familiar rhythm I did start to relax more and more, until it was too hard to keep my head up.

“Damn it,” I mumbled as he chuckled. I didn’t bother opening my eyes; I was done fooling myself. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Not long; not even a week,” he said. He slowly traced gentle circles in my skin. “We’re just doing some cleanup.”

“M’kay,” I said as I started to doze. “I’ll make it up…when you get home.”

“We’ll spend plenty of time together when I get back,” Steve said like he was agreeing with me.

“Stay safe,” I said, or tried to say, just before I fell completely asleep.

Several days later, on an otherwise pleasant Sunday morning, I got a phone call. Not a text, a call. From Natasha.

“Are you guys okay?” I asked as soon as I picked up, hoping that she was immediately about to launch into bitching about Sam or Steve doing something stupidly heroic that got them hurt but not too badly.

She was silent. “Everyone’s alive,” she said in a flat tone of voice that made me sit up straighter. Despite her words, I felt my stomach drop like a rock. Something felt very, very wrong.

“Natasha?” I asked, and my voice was shakier than I expected.

“I can’t say more over this line,” she said. “Someone is coming to pick you up and bring you here. I’ll explain more when you arrive.”

I opened my mouth to ask more, but she fucking hung up on me. I took a few seconds to sit with my panic before I got up, took several deep breaths, and grabbed a few things. Just the basics I always took when leaving the house. I waffled over the portable charger, unsure of how long I’d be out, but a knock at the door made me jump. I grabbed whatever was closest, made sure I had my wallet and keys and phone at the very least, and opened the door.

“Phil,” I said in surprise.

His smile was definitely strained. “Maria’s waiting in the car,” he said and gestured for me to go ahead. I nearly fumbled with locking my own door, I felt so scattered, and as we walked down the hall I opened my mouth, but Phil held up his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said as we waited for the elevator. “I promise, we can talk more in the car.”

I sighed, but his voice was just soothing enough that some of the jitters went away, and since this was apparently the only way I’d get more information, I followed him out without another word.

As soon as the door shut and Maria and Phil were buckling up in front, I leaned over the seat. “Is Steve okay?”

“He’s going to be just fine,” Phil said and started the engine. “Put your seatbelt on.”

At least I had that much to go on, so I sat back and did as he said. “Why did Natasha call me instead of him? Is he hurt bad? Why did you come to pick me up? What is going on?”

“Most of it I think I’ll let Captain Rogers tell you,” Phil said, sounding almost business-like. He’d never talked to me like this before, so I paid attention. “But the facts are this: there was an altercation with a potential enemy agent known as the Winter Soldier. Captain Rogers engaged him while Agent Romanoff and Falcon subdued the surrounding Hydra operatives.” Phil looked in the rearview mirror at me. Maria was pretending not to exist, so I focused on him. “Steve is in medical, but he shouldn’t be there for too long. Overnight at most,” Phil said, a little gentler. “But he was still hurt in the scuffle.”

There was so much I wasn’t being told I felt like I was fucking choking on the elephant. “He’s been hurt and in the hospital before. Why did you guys come to pick me up?”

Phil looked back at the road, and didn’t glance at me anymore. “We have more information now, on the Winter Soldier,” he said, going matter-of-fact flat again. “His past, his…identity.”

There was silence. I tried to peer around the seat. Maria looked at him sharply, but I couldn’t see Phil’s reaction. Just hear him as he picked up like he’d never stopped. “And some of his movements over the past couple of years. We have reason to believe he may know who you are. Specifically, who you are to Captain Rogers.”

Well, that was unsettling. I sat back in my seat. “Does it really matter that much?” I asked. “And what does ‘potential enemy’ mean? Who is this guy?”

“It’s complicated,” Phil said. “Captain Rogers will tell you more.”

I opened my mouth, but Maria held up her hand, and once I shut my mouth, she held up her phone and started making a call. A bitter and self-centered part of me wondered if she was just doing that to make me shut up, but I just crossed my arms and fumed to myself, trying to metaphorically steam out all the anger before we got to the hospital. Steve was hurt and would need me to not be a raging bitch, and I could manage that. For him, at least. Right now, his friends were on thin fucking ice.

Especially so when we didn’t even get to the hospital. We turned off onto a small side street between two nondescript buildings, and Phil turned into a driveway I hadn’t seen even seconds before he was in it, and then we were at a parking turnstile guarded by people with very big guns.

“Get your ID out,” Maria said as Phil spoke quietly to the attendant. “We’ll need it to get you clearance.”

I wanted to know what the fuck was going on, but more than that I wanted to be away from this, so I scrambled to do what she asked and managed only slight trembling when I handed it up to her. I didn’t even drop it.

“I’m going to roll down the window and they’re going to confirm your identity,” Phil said, and I did appreciate the warning, considering when I faced the window, I was looking right at someone’s very fancy high-tech phone. It was brief, and after only a couple of seconds they walked away and the window went back up. I expected that to be the end of it, so when we sat there for several more seconds I started to wonder if I had been secretly framed for murder somewhere and was about to find out in the worst way possible.

Instead, the attendant handed Phil a laminated card on a clip, which he then handed back to me, with my ID, and I found myself staring at maybe the worst photo I had ever taken. “Wow,” I said, distracted enough that I only realized we were moving again when we started down an incline. “You guys put the DMV to shame.”

I couldn’t see Phil’s full face in the rearview still, but his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Don’t worry; nobody takes a good photo,” he said as if to reassure me.

I looked at Maria, who was only ever immaculately put-together, and thought of Sharon, who was only ever gorgeous, and Natasha, who was only ever what she wanted to be, and even Fury, who was nothing but utterly terrifying. “Sure.” But I cleared my throat as we turned into a gated area. “I sort of thought we were going to the hospital Steve has been in before?”

“Captain Rogers will normally only be here for immediate patch-up after missions. He does not like to stay long, so if he has more extensive injuries, and they allow for it, we take him to the hospital he trusts,” Phil said. “Circumstances, this time, have not permitted that.”

I thought about that, because Steve had sort of said as much once– that he woke up in a SHIELD medical unit when he was unfrozen, and the shock of the whole thing had fucked him up. I assumed this wasn’t the same place, since we weren’t anywhere near Times Square, but, now, not only was he physically fucked up, he was in a place that might have reminded him of a really bad mental spot. I said nothing but tried to let my disapproval seep out of me in waves.

“He hasn’t been on his own,” Maria said. Not soft or gentle, but understanding. Sometimes it was nice being around spies, if only so I didn’t have to try to emote too hard. “Black Widow has not been far away, and Falcon is with him now.”

That Sam was here was a huge fucking relief, actually, because we had only just parked and I was exhausted and dreading having to be the strong one. Also, it was curious that Maria was defaulting to code names around me, but she was also way more strait-laced than I’d ever seen her, and I already thought she was kind of a hard sell normally. I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up though– I had the mental space to care about the well-being of one person right now, and I didn’t want to risk any delay in getting to him. This was probably her version of being stuck in work mode.

I didn’t give a shit about SHIELD interior decorating, except to note that the building we were in, despite the large underground parking garage, felt very narrow and was incredibly bereft of people. The only sign of life were guards stationed at points along the way, and all of them stood straight and gave an acknowledging nod to Phil and Maria when we walked past. I was practically bouncing in the next elevator we took, hoping it would lead me right to Steve.

When the doors opened and I saw Natasha standing there I almost felt relief– until she said a few clipped words to Phil and Maria in Russian and didn’t even acknowledge me. We walked out of the elevator, she walked in, hit the button, and she was gone without another word. I shook it off the best I could, followed Phil and Maria past the occasional SHIELD worker or guard (or both?) until we got to a door.

“Excuse me,” Maria murmured and peeled off to talk to someone who looked like a doctor.

Phil said my name and introduced me to the agent at the door. But he didn’t give me their name. “I have something to take care of,” he said. “They’ll be here if you need anything, or if you’re done visiting.”

“Thanks,” I said and took a deep breath. Everyone said that Steve was going to be okay, and he was alive, and safe, and that was all that mattered. The agent opened the door and I walked in, managed a small smile as Sam noticed me, and–

Everyone was full of shit. Steve was covered in large, ugly bruises; his whole right arm was bandaged up and I could see burns at the edge that still hadn’t healed, as well as healing red skin in other places. He was sleeping, but his face was twisted in pain even out of consciousness. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

I had never seen him look so bad.

“What…happened?” I asked, stumbling forward.

“Hey. You’re gonna need to sit down for this particular story,” Sam said. He was using his gentle ‘I do this for a living’ therapist voice and fuck if that didn’t set off all my alarms. I didn’t want to deal with him yet, couldn’t even look at anything but Steve, so I slipped past him and took the chair next to the bed. Sam pulled his chair next to me and took my hand, giving it a squeeze I could feel only in the physical sense. “He’s gonna be okay.”

I stared at him and tried my best not to look like I was going to set him on fire with my mind. Sam hadn’t done anything, but I had had it with all the talk-around. “Natasha would only tell me everyone made it out alive. Phil and Maria came to pick me up for some reason, and Phil only told me he got in a fight with the Winter Soldier guy,” I said, trying to be as neutral as possible, and, failing that, at least trying to be quiet. So I mostly ended up hissing, “What the fuck is going on?!”

Sam put his hand on my back and rubbed, and I literally had to force the tears back. I didn’t know what was happening but it was bad. “He’s gonna be all right,” Sam murmured, but even he looked doubtful as he glanced at Steve. “But he’s got a lot to deal with right now.”

“Like what.” I was no longer asking.

Sam didn’t answer right away. He chewed on his lip for a few seconds. “What all do you know about the Winter Soldier?”

I wanted to yell. Why did I care? “Big bad assassin guy. Was involved in whatever the fuck happened in DC with SHIELD; started on Hydra’s side, then suddenly switched for some unknown reason and helped against them. Apparently was only on their side because they tortured him to hell and back.” Maybe I was missing some stuff, but that felt like all the bullet points. Except… I looked at Steve, then back at Sam. “What did he do?”

Sam breathed deep. “We’ve been trying to find him. Partly because we know what he’s capable of, partly because we want to help him,” he said. He seemed so sincere when he said that. I doubted how much SHIELD would want to help a former enemy combatant, but for Sam and Steve, I did believe it. “Also important to mention is that we knew he’s been a prisoner of Hydra for a long time. Longer than normal; reports go back to the sixties or seventies of his first show on the scene. They used cryo-freezing as a form of suspended animation– only bring him out when they needed him for a special job, then put him back under. Ad nauseum.”

Ad nauseum was right. I shivered a bit at the thought. Sam leaned forward in his chair, letting his hands clasp in front as his eyes dropped away from mine. “So when we heard a faction of some Hydra remnants got their hands on him and were trying to bring him back under control, we raced to the rescue.” Sam visibly swallowed. “And, for the first time, we actually got a look at his face.”

I waited. But he hesitated, like he didn’t want to say it.

“It’s Bucky.”

I first registered the appearance of Steve’s voice meant that Steve was awake and I whipped my head to look at him. What little relief I felt was short– there was such a dead look in his eyes as he stared vacantly at the ceiling.

And then I registered the words. At first, it didn’t make sense. I couldn’t figure out what Bucky had to do with–

Prisoner for a long time– suspended animation–

“What?” I said, barely audible even to myself as I realized why the world felt like it was dropping out. I knew Steve heard it, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t acknowledge anything. I looked at Sam.

He nodded, and let out a breath. Meanwhile I felt like I was going to cry. This had nothing to do with me but everything to do with Steve and I didn’t know what to do, how to help. If I even could. I scrabbled for Steve’s hand without looking and squeezed. He didn’t react. “All the info we scraped together– it’s pretty minimal. Nothing with any hints to the Winter Soldier’s identity,” Sam said, occasionally glancing at Steve. “So we knew we’d barely scratched the surface. After this last–…”

…This last, which had left Steve more than a mental wreck. “What happened,” I said again, trying to compose myself. Steve couldn’t do it, so I had to be together. For him. I took a deep breath and focused on that. “Hydra got to– …to him again. And then– then what?”

“They were trying to bring him back under their control.”

Sam and I both jumped a bit, though I felt reassured when Steve finally did squeeze my hand, even if it was small. Natasha stood by the door, with Clint. She cast a glance over Steve, but she looked…okay. Better than her phone voice had hinted at, at least, and better than when I’d seen her at the elevator. Clint looked more serious than I’d ever seen him, but he gave a little wave, and they both came to join us at Steve’s bed, Clint leaning on the wall and Natasha standing in the space beside Sam and me.

“Whatever methods they used in DC aren’t working anymore,” Natasha continued, looking at Steve. “This time, they relied on the classic standards– physical reinforcement, manual conditioning, heavy drugging–”

“He didn’t know which way was up,” Steve said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, but when I tried to rub my thumb over his hand, he took it away. His face was stone, and he didn’t look at me– or anyone. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“He was lashing out at anybody who got too close,” Natasha said, and inclined her head to me, then to Steve. Obviously, yeah, I could figure out what happened there. “Once he recognized Steve, he…stopped, looked horrified, and ran away. We didn’t find him again, but while waiting for evac I did find where he had holed up before he fell into the trap they’d set. And there, I found documents he had salvaged that confirmed his identity.”

The silence after that was…awkward. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid to say anything, in case it was wrong. But they all kept looking at Steve, like he was going to show them–…I didn’t even know, but it was stupid. And rude.

I swallowed. “He got away. From you guys and Hydra, right?” I asked. It felt stupid, but…I wanted to know. “Do you think…he’s okay? Physically?”

Natasha let out a little sigh, Sam rubbed his face, and Clint rolled his shoulders. I didn’t know if they actually thought I was stupid, bit whatever; so long as they stopped looking at Steve like they were waiting to watch a crack form right down the center of him. “There’s no reason to believe otherwise,” Natasha said, and she looked so incredibly tired in that moment I felt a little bad for my uncharitable thoughts. She’d mentioned the first time I’d heard about the Winter Soldier that the brainwashing stuff hit too close to home; this was probably hard for her too. And she and Clint and Sam cared about Steve. I was just being a bitch.

“And yes– he’s fully in the wind, and SHIELD is focusing on keeping track of any other rogue Hydra units looking to find him, rather than on capturing the Soldier himself,” Natasha said, walking around to the end of Steve’s bed.

That, oddly, got Steve’s full attention. “Really?” he asked warily. Skeptically.

Natasha nodded. “Fury deemed it a better use of resources,” she said, a bit dry. “As long as he doesn’t fall into Hydra’s hands, he is less of a threat to us.”

Less of a threat? Steve’s jaw tightened, and I braced for a fight, but he was silent, took a few deep breaths, and then…he said, “Thank you,” and settled back against his pillow.

An argument felt like it was still in the air, but Natasha inclined her head, and neither of them mentioned it. Nobody mentioned anything, actually, and I tried not to be a jerk– they were his friends, they were allowed to visit him too– but…

I looked around. Clint looked pretty hale and healthy, but Natasha was worn to a wire’s edge and Sam had bandages of his own and looked exhausted. I almost wanted to ask if he was all right but what if he got those from Bucky? I didn’t want to step on anything. But I did want a chance to visit with Steve alone. And I kept looking from Natasha to Sam, trying to find a polite way to ask if maybe they needed some sleep…

Natasha’s lips curled in a wry smile when I looked back at her for maybe the hundredth time. I curled in on myself, considered never looking her in the eyes ever, ever again, then thought, ‘fuck it,’ sighed, and looked her head on.

Her smile softened, and she stretched, bringing just enough noise to the utterly silent room with her movement. “As fun as it is to watch you try not to crack another rib, I’m exhausted, and you need to sleep too.”

“Yeah, don’t want your battle-axe of a nurse to see you up too late,” Clint said and came to stand next to Sam. I focused on Steve as they all shuffled out and when the door clicked shut…well, there was no magic shift. No special acknowledgement. Just more stifling silence and a growing pit of dread forming like a black hole in the center of me.

I sighed and took his hand again. I touched gently, moving over bumps and ridges before leaning in to kiss his bandaged knuckles. He gasped and when he looked at me, weariness set in on his face, making him look so much older. After all that time setting himself up like a gargoyle, sorrow arrived relatively quickly.

I sat closer and angled so I could hold him. He moved too quickly, but leaned in to hug me. He rested his face in my shoulder and took big, heaving breaths.

“Seventy years,” he croaked. “He’s been tortured and used while I slept, and assimilated, and–”

He broke, and I felt like a flimsy plastic pole trying to weather a hurricane. There was nothing I could say, or do, and neither could he. But I stayed, and held tight.

He cried himself to sleep and I set him back in bed as well as I could. I wiped down his face, straightened his hair, and gave him a kiss before I left, stumbling a bit as my legs refused to work at first.

Sam was waiting for me when I came out. I didn’t know what to say, so I gave him a little wave and walked. He fell in step beside me and stayed quiet until we got to the elevator.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as we waited for it.

“Like a…” I mimicked wringing out a dishrag and he gave me a little smile. “How are you?” I asked and tried to gauge his injuries, but I could barely focus on anything.

“I’m fine. Really,” he said firmly, and patted his bandages. “A few burns, some bad aches, but I got the good pain meds so the worst is actually the jet lag. I’ll be fine once I get some sleep.”

I nodded. For some reason I could only stare at the floor. “You should; you–…you…should…”

Sam said my name. I blinked rapidly. “Sorry,” I said. The elevator was small. And quiet. I felt my face start to twist and I contorted it even more, as I looked down and away, trying so hard not to break into tears. But they were coming. They were still coming.

Sam said my name again and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “And I’m not just saying that. Steve’s gonna pull through.” I could hear his sigh, quiet as it was, as I shook from the effort of trying to swallow all of my feelings without choking on them. The elevator dinged loudly enough to make us both jump, and I kept my head down and let Sam lead the way. Breathe, breathe, breathe, I just wanted to fucking breathe and not have a nervous breakdown in Spy Headquarters.

When we were in a corner off to the side, I managed to pull myself together just enough to ask, “Do you think…Bucky’s okay?”

Sam didn’t respond. Not right away. “I think fully answering that is way above my pay grade,” he said gently. He paused again. “Do you want him to be?”

“God I hope he is,” I said. I held my face. “It’d be so much better for Steve if he is.”

Sam shifted. “Even though it might mean…”

“He deserves to be happy,” I said without thinking. True, though. “Whatever form that takes, I just want him happy, and safe; I–…I–…” My eyes burned. ‘I love him so fucking much’ I wanted to say, but couldn’t, because that was the end of my ability to cope with this rollercoaster of a fucking day and I started crying into his chest. Sam was good, too good, and held me for all of the hyperventilating waterworks, even though it couldn’t have been comfortable, even without the times I caught myself pushing my face too hard into his body. Thankfully the break didn’t last too long, and as soon as it tapered off I unpeeled myself from his person.

“Sorry.” I rubbed my face hard and took a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “You know I’m your friend too, right?”

I continued to rub my face raw of any trace of tears. I hated crying in front of people, and I had to consciously stop myself from thinking of all the surveillance that probably happened in every part of this fucking building. “It doesn’t even directly affect me. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“It’s tougher, sometimes, when it’s people we care about.” Sam squeezed my arm. “It’s going to be tough, even just being there for Steve right now.”

I swallowed one more time and, despite still feeling rough, I felt…better. Less on a knife’s edge, at least. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here, and…we’ll deal.”

Someone walked up behind Sam and he stiffened, and used his arm to move me closer to the wall and more firmly behind him as he turned. “Hey Phil,” he said, not exactly warm, but polite enough. “You need something?”

Phil said my name. “I just need a moment of your time before we take you home.”

I rolled my shoulders and looked around. Luckily, I had a good excuse not to face him yet. “Yeah, just give me a minute. I’m gonna hit the bathroom first.”

“Take all the time you need,” Phil said, and left. Or so I assumed; I didn’t really hear him go but Sam sighed and turned to face me again.

“You want me to stick around for that meeting?” he asked.

I gave him another look over. Maybe he wasn’t hurt that bad, but he looked exhausted. I shook my head. “It’ll be fine,” I said, and kept the, ‘I hope,’ completely to myself. “You go get in bed and sleep.”

His lips curled up. “Yes ma’am,” he said, and leaned back in for another hug. A really tight hug. When he stood fully again he said, “Hey,” and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Call or text, any time. I’m here.”

I nodded. When it came to Steve, I probably wouldn’t hesitate. I’d just have to find some cute pictures and dumb memes to pepper in to make it worth it. “You staying at the Tower?”

“Yeah.” He actually managed to forge a decent smile. “As much as I’d love to come vet your couch, the apartments Tony’s set up for us ain't half bad.”

I scoffed. “Can’t believe you’d pass up my couch for a bed that probably costs more than I pay in rent. No accounting for taste.”

“It definitely isn’t better company.”

“I don’t think that’s true right now.”

“Well, that’s going around,” he said gently.

After one more hug, I managed to shoo him off, and I ducked into the bathroom to wash my face at least. I definitely looked ragged in the mirror but the cold water felt nice. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone for too long, but when I glanced at who entered, I was definitely surprised. Perhaps foolishly so.

“Oh. Hi Sharon,” I said, and dabbed the paper towels at my face. She greeted me but she didn’t go for a stall, nor did she use a sink. She just leaned against the back wall. I sighed. ‘Foolish’ for sure. “You need something?”

“I’m going with you to the meeting,” she said. My stomach clenched with dread, but I just wanted to be done with all of this and back home. Well, I’d rather have stayed with Steve, but barring that, home was the next best thing, and Phil was too creepily good at his job. Even if I managed to duck out, he could probably materialize from my mirror and I wouldn’t think twice about it. Better to get this over and done.

I followed Sharon just down the hall, and when we entered the room it was occupied by Phil, Fury, and four SHIELD agents– including the brunette guy from the first time I’d ever tried to visit Steve in the hospital. That brought me up short and I wondered if I’d accidentally wandered into a different meeting, but Sharon gently nudged me further in so she could slip inside and shut the door behind us.

“Uh…” It was quiet. And awkward. “Hi?”

Phil said my name in greeting. “We’ll keep this short, since I’m sure you’d like to get home,” he said. “To start– everyone in this room is aware of the true nature of your relationship with Captain Rogers.”

I hadn’t known I could still emote, but my eyebrows went all the way up when I looked at him. “Why?” I asked warily.

Fury shifted, and all attention turned to him– even though I couldn’t even tell how he had moved. “Despite Captain Rogers’s feelings on the matter, the Winter Soldier is a dangerous and deadly assassin. Given their past relationship, and your current relationship, we are going to be giving you a security detail,” he said. Like that explained everything.

My immediate ‘that’s stupid,’ was, thankfully, something that didn’t come out of my mouth. Maybe out of my eyes, but at least I didn’t say it. Granted, Steve was in terrible shape so, yes, Bucky was objectively dangerous, but…he had run away from them. And why waste his time coming after me when Steve was, ostensibly, the one he had major Feelings about, and lived in the same damn city?

“Does he even know we’re dating?” I asked. “I shouldn’t matter any more than Steve’s other friends.”

“We’ve found out that he has…observed the two of you on at least two occasions,” Phil said. “We don’t know exactly what he saw, but he was one of the best assassins alive, under Hydra’s control, and he might be even better now.”

Creepy. I tried not to think too hard about it. “If that’s the case, he’s been free for years now. If Mister Super-Duper-Assassin wanted to take me out, it’s not like he couldn’t have done so already.”

“Except now we don’t know where he is or what his state of mind is after the weeks he just spent under re-conditioning,” Fury said. “There are a lot of factors going into this. We have discussed all the angles. A minor security detail is necessary.”

These people looked very serious and very capable, so ‘minor’ didn’t feel quite right. However, I was just done. With everything. “Ugh,” I said and rubbed my face. “I think it’s really stupid and a waste of your resources, but I’m too tired to argue about it.”

“Good enough,” Fury remarked dryly. I rolled my eyes, but let him and Phil blather on to the agents about shifts and details, and just…zoned out. Until someone tugged at my jacket sleeve and I turned to see Sharon right there again. She jerked her head at the door and I followed along, letting the rest of them continue to do…whatever.

I regained enough conscious thought to wonder if this was awkward. Sharon wasn’t immediately connected to it, but she was friends with Steve, and Peggy…god, I almost didn’t want to think about it. But my head kept circling back to it.

“How are you?” she asked, kindly, once we were on the road. This time it was just me and her in the car. Was she part of this new detail? From the way Steve talked about her that seemed almost demeaning, and I kind of didn’t want to ask in case it was.

“I’m, um, fine. Fine enough. It must be weirder and harder for you, with SHIELD and…” I swallowed. “How’s Peggy?”

Sharon was silent for a little bit. I was just about to get in my head about how maybe that wasn’t an appropriate thing to ask– Sharon and I were friendly but we weren’t friends– but she actually admitted, “We haven't told her yet.” She focused on the road. “I haven't told her yet. It has to be in person, but I still…”

The way she trailed off sounded…uncertain. And I could relate. She didn’t have much more stake in this than I did– we both had Steve, but I while had the ‘new girlfriend dealing with old boyfriend’ issues, she had the ‘SHIELD agents versus former Hydra assassin’ issues, and I…started to wonder. I started to wonder if maybe she shouldn’t be the one to say it. If maybe…

“Can you wait, and let Steve do it?” I asked. She actually looked at me, long enough that the light turned and someone honked. She got back to driving, but she kept glancing at me. I swallowed. “It’s not my business,” I said, because it really, really wasn’t, “–…but it’s going to be hard to hear and…maybe it would be…maybe it’s better. If she hears it from the one other person who knew– who knows Bucky.”

She drove in silence for a few more minutes. Then she asked, “Does he really believe Barnes is still there?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “What’s more believable– that the Winter Soldier did a sudden inexplicable heel turn against masters he was violently conditioned to obey?” I asked. “Or that Steve got through to him based on years of ingrained trust?”

She let out a short but heavy sigh. “Most of it feels pretty inexplicable,” she said. “But Romanoff and Wilson said the same thing about this last time. That Rogers got through to him.”

“I think he did,” I said quietly, and we both left it at that. When she pulled down my street I took a moment to make sure all my limbs worked and were going to support me properly.

“Hey.”

I looked at her. “Don’t worry about the detail,” she said. “We can make ourselves noticeable if the occasion calls for it, but we can also be pretty inconspicuous too.” Sharon gave me a small smile. “I lived as Steve’s neighbor for months without him having any idea until I revealed myself.”

“Impressive,” I said. Steve wasn’t spy material, but I’d always thought he was good at sussing out when people were watching him. “Also kind of creepy.”

“That’s the job,” she said, as if stating an unfortunate but also true fact, and, well, she was right. She stopped in front of my building. “I mean it, don’t worry; if anything does happen the agent on duty will make themself known and escort you to safety. But we’re all hoping this is going to be a fairly boring assignment.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I still thought it was stupid to waste their time on it though, and once I got my head on straight, I’d be telling them that. Telling Phil that at least. Fury wasn’t mean, per se, but he was still intimidating as all hell. “Thanks for the ride.”

She nodded. “Tell Steve to get in touch, if he doesn’t want to break the news,” she said, a little quieter. “I’ll take care of it.”

I wasn’t sure when I’d see Steve again– if he’d come over willingly, or if I’d have to track him down. But I knew where he lived; I wouldn’t let him run away. Not from me. I nodded, got out, waved goodbye…

…And the next thing I knew I was zoned out at my door, keys in hand, when I suddenly heard someone’s door opening down the hall. I cursed at myself– seriously, so many possible assassinations could have happened it was stupid– but I fumbled with my lock, got inside, and leaned my back against the door.

From there it was a slow descent to getting my apartment ready for the night. The day was over, and tomorrow was Monday, and I was so tired I wasn’t sure if I should prepare to call out or just go and be miserable and deal with it. If I was going to be miserable anyways, it was better to at least get a paycheck for it.

And, when a knock at my door made me jump to a straight-up sitting position on the couch, I wondered if I wouldn’t feel so nervous if I wasn’t so…alone. Which was stupid, because even if pigs did fly and Bucky did come after me because his head was so fucked up, wouldn’t it be better if there was no one else around?

I sighed and went to check the door.

Natasha stood there. She then immediately looked right at me. Or rather, right at the peephole.

I unlocked the door and opened it. “That’s such a horror movie thing to do,” I said.

She shrugged, and a plastic bag in her hands crinkled with the movement. “Depending on what side you’re on, I make a hell of a slasher,” she said, like she was trying to make a joke, but it came out a little…flat. She held up the bag. “I brought you dinner.”

“Oh, nice,” I said and stepped back. She didn’t take the implied invitation, so I waved at her to come in. After only a second, she did, and I shut and locked the door. “They’re not making you do this stupid ‘detail’ thing, are they?”

“No. I’ve been deemed ‘too close’ to the issue,” she said. “But I also don’t think it’s stupid.”

I chose not to follow that, just in case it led to an argument. She kept glancing around, like Bucky might jump out of a closet, so maybe she had been watching one too many horror movies. “What’d you get?” I asked. “That’s a big bag. You’re staying to eat too, right?”

She visibly hesitated. “I was going to,” she said. Her tone was still fairly flat, and I wondered if this was how she got when she was tired. “But maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” I said.

She gave me a look like she knew I knew something was off. “I’m not capable of being very ‘normal’ right now.”

I snorted. “Join the club.” I walked up to her and took the bag, setting it on the counter right behind her. “Normal’s bullshit anyways. Let’s eat.”

She watched me unpack the food, but when I got the plates, she took one and loaded it up, and joined me on the couch. She was muted in a way that I worried I might have pushed her into something, but if there was anybody I didn’t think I could force into shit, it was Natasha, so I took her as she was, and let it be. Mostly. The air seemed to get heavier by the passing moment, with the two of us moodily chowing down on food that was too good for this amount of personal dark clouds, so I took a chance, and stabbed at a particularly good-looking bite on her plate.

I probably should not have done so while she was holding a fork. I almost had it when she struck, poking me so hard with her utensil that I jumped and took my hand back, but the pain was quickly gone, and there wasn’t even any blood. The look she gave me, both eyebrows raised, made me laugh. “I can’t believe you actually let me get that close,” I said and shook out my hand.

“I could hardly believe you were trying it,” she said. She sighed and looked away, as if frustrated. “I told you I wasn’t normal tonight.”

“It’s still fine. I didn’t actually piss you off, did I?” I asked. She shook her head. “Then, no harm, no foul.”

“Hm.” But she only poked at her food. It was almost a minute before she spoke again. “This is all–…it’s not exactly the same, but it’s…hitting similar buttons.”

I considered. “What happened with Bucky?”

She gave a curt nod. “This last time especially. Most of what they did to him before used methods they could only employ against someone with the serum. Anyone else would have been dead,” she said. “But this most recent, with the drugs and the…‘manual’ brainwashing…that was familiar.”

I didn’t know what to say. I leaned against her for a brief moment. “People fucking suck,” is what I decided on, and I sat up and scraped my plate.

She didn’t move right away. But then she let out a little huff. “Yeah. Sometimes,” she said, but she started eating again too. When she finished she put her empty plate next to mine and sat like she was…waiting for something. Sam was exhausted, and I assumed she must have been too, but she was way too wired. And maybe sleep was a worse idea than just dealing with reality.

Or…

“Hey,” I said. She looked at me. “Have you ever played a farming sim?”

She blinked several times. And stared. “Huh,” I said. “I’ve never gotten a look that good before. I’d ask if I was suddenly speaking Russian, but–”

She hit me with a throw pillow so hard my shoulder hurt. “That’s not even an expression,” she said and flumped back on it. “Also– no. I haven't. Shocking, I’m sure.”

“Do you want to?” I picked up my controller regardless of what the answer was and started flipping through my library. “You can make a stupid looking avatar, and go on dates.”

“I thought you said it was about farming,” she said, watching as I scrolled through. “Oh god– are all of those about farming?”

“Da. The curse of capitalist pigs trying to–” She hit me with the pillow again. “–Ow how do you do that?” I asked, dropping the fake Russian accent and stopping to rub my aching arm. “I bet you could give somebody a Charlie horse with a fucking blanket.”

“That’s too easy. But I’ll show you if you do the accent again,” she said, back to resting on her Murder Pillow.

“Yeah, yeah.” I picked a game, flicked through the initial menu, and handed her the controller. “Make a stupid avatar and get fishing.”

“I thought I was farming,” she said, but she started flipping through hairstyles.

“You can plant crops, smooch pixels that look vaguely humanoid, and make fish fear you,” I said. “Oh– those overalls are awful.”

“Perfect,” she said, and settled in. Nothing was right, none of us were okay, but we could only do so much, and for the moment all of us were, at least, safe. I could only hope Bucky currently had that guarantee too– for all our sakes.

Basic background info for this chapter in case of confusion: “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” movie happened mostly as-is, up until the unmasking. The mask didn’t come off, but Steve accidentally broke through the programming, allowing Bucky to regain just enough sense of self to break from Hydra. Bucky did come back at the end to help against the Helicarriers, but after saving Steve from his fall into the Potomac, he left without a word. “The Winter Soldier” has been in the wind ever since, fighting against Hydra, and destroying/taking anything that might hint to his true identity.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

#steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert #dinner date

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multiverse-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

Dude I shit you not your Legato relationship imagines post had me tearing the fuck up.

Only if you're comfortable doing so, but could I request some relationship imagines with an s/o who has similar past trauma and struggles with panic attacks? I repeat, only if you're comfortable doing so 😵

A/N: I'm so willing to have the panic attacks necessary to write this one. I imagine myself having a similar relationship with Legato when it comes to intimacy. Guess I have a lot to say about him xD

One Step at A Time

Legato x also traumatized!reader

You and Legato had been together for well over a year, and there was no denying the heart fluttering adoration the two of you shared for each other.

Legato wasn't always very vocal or over the top with his acts of love. It was little things like, getting you a snack on his way home, a gentle kiss on the forehead before bed, or laying his hand on yours while you sit in each other's company. Little things that you knew were his way of showing his love.

Acts of service and praising words were Legato's forté. He praised every moment, no matter how small. He praised you when you managed to eat your meal, no matter how childish, or bland. He praised you when you did something to take care of yourself. Showering, clipping your fingernails, asking for a second to breathe, letting him know you were anxious before a full blown panic attack settled in, anything really.

He was also on the ball in subjects such as readying your shower water and items, clearing the kitchen counter before you did the dishes, changing the laundry over from the washer to dryer, and making the grocery list before the two of you went shopping.

His attentiveness often inspired you to make sure his needs were being met as well. Although you couldn't always provide acts of service, you made sure to thank him for his hard work, and made sure he knew how much you appreciated him. The two of you always made sure the other knew how much they were loved, wanted, and accepted for everything they were…. Especially the inflicted wounds given to you both from the tribulations of your pasts.

You had confided in Legato, your past with people who were not kind to you. Afterwords, he told his story to you, thus creating an even stronger bond between you.

Intimacy was rough for the both of you. Physical touch being the hardest. He went to rest his arm around you for the first time, and his hand landed on just the wrong spot, sending you into a panic attack. He was quick to help you out of it, apologies and calming words flowing from his mouth like a symphony. He seemed to know almost immediately what would calm you down, simply from how observant he was over the past year.

He snatched up your favorite comfort food, water, and tissues. He communicated well on whether you wanted to be held or not. He waited patiently for you to be able to speak again, and for you to calm down enough to talk about your thought process within your trigger.

Once learning that the spot he'd grazed was one that was quite a heavy topic, he immediately apologized, and thanked you for telling him. Since then, he warmed you if he needed to touch that spot for any reason, which was seldom ever. The only case was a stray hair or a crumb of food.

The two of you made a list of sorts. Things that could trigger each other, and the best methods for pulling you both from your panicked states. You keep this list hidden, tucked under your mattress.

You and Legato occasionally had experimental nights in, but these were not typically spent making out or touching each other. These nights, you two would sit with your shirts off, or wearing minimal clothing, just doing normal things, all the windows closed, curtains drawn. You'd watch a movie, finish that load of laundry, or make dinner. It was only when the two of you went to sleep next to each other that night, each cocooned on your own soft fluffy blankets, that the two of you would share a kiss. Soft, gentle, and praising each other for how well the other did.

The two of you spoke often of How the two of you would interact intimately together, in preparation, and anticipation, for the day the two of you could even possibly be physically intimate. On the rare occasion that the both of you were in a positive headspace, the two of you laid, fully clothed, in a few basic sex positions. Not moving. Not touching. Not kissing. Purely keeping eye contact (where applicable), and just… talking. About your day, about house chores, about music or something that wasn't the vulnerable position the two of you were in.

Sometimes this was something done on the couch while watching a movie. If you both made it through the whole movie, without an anxiety or panic attack, you and Legato would go on a date to your favorite fancy sit down restaurant. The two of you would split a bottle of wine or some other fancy drink, and each have your favorite meal together.

If things end in panic attacks, love and aftercare is given, snacks are retrieved, and the experience is talked about. The two of you relax with a comfort show or movie to help you calm down from the experience. Neither of you let the experience be anything that stands between you, but rather an obstacle to be fought together.

That just means that someday, if… no, when the two of you can be tangled in each other, making sweet love til sunrise, you know the struggles will all have been worth it.

#trigun #trigun brain rot #legato bluesummers #Legato x reader #I forget how much i adore my blue haired bby boi

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allthingsfangirl101 · 2 years ago

Text

*Perfect Night–Joe Keery

Wattpad Request by Snackycake1975

Warnings: lots of fluff, protective sex, language

I've known Joe for four years. We met on the set of Stranger Things. He played Steve Harrington while I worked in the costume trailer. Two years ago, he finally asked me out. We've been together ever since.

Joe and I decided to move in together on our one-year anniversary. We found a small house on the outskirts of LA. It was close enough to Netflix's set while still giving me the small-town experience.

Every day I've spent with Joe has been one of my favorite days. He means the world to me. I used to think that the only time I'd been in love was in high school. Until I met Joe. I've never felt love like this.

But lately, things have felt a little off. Joe's been gone a lot more than just work. He's been on his phone more, constantly texting someone. Whenever I've asked, he's shrugged it off and told me it was something to do with work.

It almost felt like he's been keeping something from me. I didn't let myself spend time thinking about it because when I did, it made my stomach turn sour. I tried talking to some of my friends about him and what was going on but they instantly accused him of cheating on me.

I had just finished the laundry when I heard the front door open and shut. I heard Joe kick off his shoes and hang his keys by the door. I waited for him to call out to me or come find me but he didn't.

"Joe?" I called out as I carried the laundry basket out of the laundry room. "Is that you or a burglar?"

"If I was a burglar, you should call the police," Joe said, sounding weird, "not call out to them."

I stopped when I saw him still standing in the doorway. I put the laundry basket down before walking over to him. I reached up and gently cupped his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked under my breath. He started to say he was fine, but I cut him off. "What happened at work today?"

"Maya, Joseph, Natalie, Charlie, and I were supposed to go to lunch," he started to explain. "We got cornered by the damn paparazzi. Again."

"I'm sorry," I sighed, pulling him into my chest and wrapping my arms around his neck. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," he said, slowly going back to his regular self. "Just being with you is enough."

Joe leaned in and pressed his lips delicately to mine. He started to try and deepen the kiss but I broke it before he could. I smirked up at his pout.

"Cheesball," I teased before turning on my heel.

Joe stopped me before I could walk away. He pulled me back into his chest, a different look in his eyes.

"I had an idea about dinner tonight," he said.

"Okay," I shrugged. "What's your idea? I went grocery shopping today so I could make. . ."

"Let's go out," he interrupted. "And I don't mean our usual places."

"Did you have a specific place you wanted to go to?"

"Antonios."

"What?" I asked, slightly laughing. "Baby, that place is extremely hard to get reservations. You have to call like six months in advance."

"Not unless you know the host," Joe said with a teasing smirk, "which I do."

"You're kidding," I said slowly. "No, you're not."

He pulled me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. He chuckled as he rubbed our noses together.

"I'm not," he whispered. "Here's what I want you to do, baby. Go upstairs and take a nice, hot shower. I want you to get dressed in your favorite dress, the one that makes you feel the sexiest. Do your hair, makeup, the whole nine yards. And then I am going to take you to dinner."

"That sounds amazing," I sighed. I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his.

We instantly started moving our lips messily in sync. We broke the kiss, laughing as he picked me up and started carrying me upstairs. He dropped me on the bed, instantly crawling over me.

"As much as I would love to do this," he moaned, "we should start getting ready. Mikey made our dinner reservations for 7."

"I can shower and get ready in an hour," I teased, dragging my hands up his chest.

"Baby," he moaned, pressing his lips to mine. I giggled against his lips as he started undressing me. He broke the kiss long enough to add, "You're the reason I'm always late for work."

I pushed on his chest, making him break the kiss. I couldn't help but smirk as Joe looked at my body which was partially revealed to him.

"You're the one who loves spending time together in the morning."

"Waking up next to your gorgeous body," he teased, "can you blame me?"

* * * * *

After we finished, I started to shower but Joe joined me. My shower was longer than normal with Joe behind me. Eventually, we finally finished showering and got ready for dinner. As we pulled into the valet parking at the restaurant, a sick feeling flooded me.

What if all of this was to make him feel better about cheating?

I shook my head, forcing myself to push that aside. I knew Joe. He would never do that to me.

A valet was about to open my door but Joe stopped him. He nodded to the guy in appreciation before opening my door. He grabbed my hand, helping me out of the car. The butterflies went crazy, trying to tell me something, but I instantly ignored them.

We walked into the restaurant and didn't have to say anything to the host. Joe's friend Mikey nodded at him and grabbed two menus. He led us through the restaurant to a private room in the back. I tried to ignore the look that Joe and Mikey shared before Mikey walked away.

Throughout dinner, Joe was his normal, charismatic, charming self. I tried to go back to my normal self but I couldn't ignore the pit in my stomach.

"You alright?"

I looked up to see Joe scanning my face. He reached over and grabbed my hand.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "I'm just. . . I think the wine is giving me a headache."

"You only had two glasses," Joe said, clearly overthinking things. I smiled when he reached up and gently felt my face. "You're a little flushed. I hope you're not coming down with anything."

"I'm fine," I tried to reassure.

"How about a walk on the beach?" Joe suggested, sounding a little strange. "Maybe the fresh sea air will help."

"That's a great idea."

After leaving the restaurant, Joe and I walked around the park by our house that we liked to go to. We started getting close to our favorite gazebo and I noticed he started to slow our pace.

"Do you remember the day we first met?" Joe asked.

"Of course I do," I chuckled. "It was my first day at my new job. They needed me to fix a zipper on one of the outfits that Nancy wears. I was running late because I couldn't find a needle or the thread the first costume designer used."

"You were swearing up a storm," he teased. "I walked into the costume trailer because they told me I needed different sneakers and all I hear is a girl swearing like a sailor."

"To be fair, I had no idea you were there," I defended myself.

"No need to be embarrassed," Joe chuckled. "That first time we met, I fell head over heels in love with you. I had to get to know you better. I figured it out extremely fast that those days I didn't see you, were some of the worst. So, I made sure to stop by every day."

"Even if it meant ripping off one of your shirt buttons?"

"It seemed like a small price to pay," he shrugged. Suddenly, the look in his eyes changed. He led me over to our gazebo. We got to the middle of it when he finally let go of me. I wrapped my arms around myself as he walked away.

"Joe." I was about to tell him to hurry up and end things but he flipped something on. I gasped as the whole gazebo lit up.

"What is all of this?" I stuttered as I looked around. There were lights strung up around the gazebo and flowers that added to the lights but felt slightly out of place. "Did you. . . Did you do all of this?"

I turned around, my breath getting stuck in my throat when I saw him down on one knee. I tried to catch my breath but it was useless.

"To answer your question," he chuckled as he grabbed a dark red velvet box out of his pocket, "I may have had some help, but yes I did all of this. And before you ask, you're worth it."

"Joe," I whispered his name. I was going to say more but decided against it. Whatever he was doing, I doubt he wanted me to interrupt.

"I'm gonna keep this as simple as I can. I love you, Y/N. I have loved you since the very first moment I met you. I knew an actor dating a crew member was against Matt and Ross's rules, but I was willing to break any rule I had to to get near you. After weeks of flirting back and forth, before I asked you out, I begged Matt to let me. I had to sign a bunch of agreements that I wouldn't sue Netflix if something happened between us but when he told me I could. . . One date and I knew. I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you."

Joe paused as he looked down at the velvet box in his hand and slowly opened it, showing me the ring he bought for me.

"So let's start that now," he said, his voice dropping. "I love you with everything I have. I promise that I will spend every day making you happy. I will spend every ounce of energy I have to give you the life you deserve. You'll want for nothing. As long as you have me. As long as I have you, I won't need anything else. I love you, Y/N, and I have been dying to ask you a very special question."

"Please," I whispered, "ask me, Joe. I've been dying for you to ask me."

Joe smiled up at me, happy tears building in his eyes. "Y/F/N LY/L/N, will you marry me?"

"Yes," I said, the second after he asked me.

Joe smiled as he slipped the ring on my finger. He jumped to his feet and pulled me into his chest. He leaned down and kissed me. I instantly ran my fingers through his hair as our lips moved in sync. We would've gotten carried away if it wasn't for the applause.

We broke apart and looked toward the parking lot to see our friends and family running toward us. I looked at Joe to see him smirking at me.

"What?" He teased. "You really think I would propose to you and not have our closest friends and family nearby to celebrate with us?"

"I love you," I said, my voice breaking.

"I love you too, baby."

After the proposal, we all went to a nearby restaurant that Joe had rented out for our engagement party. The entire night, through all the congratulations and stories, I couldn't keep my eyes off of my fiancé. Every time he caught me looking at him, he'd send me a wink that made my stomach flip.

I went to the bathroom and when I was done, Joe was waiting for me in the hallway outside the bathroom. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest.

"Finally," he sighed, slightly moaning, "we're alone."

We were about to lean in and kiss but my sister came running toward us. "There you two are!" She giggled. "They just ordered more champagne."

Joe and I sent each other looks before following Y/S/N back to the party. A little while later, I couldn't handle it anymore. I walked over to him, smiling at an old coworker he was talking to. I think his name was Jason. He excused himself, freeing Joe so he was all mine. I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to me. I stood on my toes, pressing my lips to his ear. I felt him shiver as I whispered into his ear.

"Let's go home."

* * * * *

We were barely inside the house before Joe's lips were on me. He grabbed me from behind and started kissing my neck. I giggled as his hands started rubbing my hips. I closed my eyes and leaned my head to the side, giving him more room to explore my neck. I shivered in delight as he started nibbling on my earlobe.

"Baby," he groaned into my ear, "let's go upstairs and celebrate."

"We've been celebrating all night," I teased. Joe grunted before grabbing my hips and spinning me around.

"Not the way I want to," he said through his teeth. I gasped as he roughly pressed his lips to mine. Without breaking apart, Joe backed us more into the house. We laughed into the kiss when we hit the wall.

Joe tore his lips away from mine and attached his lips to my neck. He knew I loved when he spent time exploring my body. He grunted as he pushed me further up against the wall.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging on as many pieces as I could. Joe pulled away, grunting as he grabbed my hands, pulling them out of his hair. He started moaning my name but his moan got stuck in his throat when he looked down at the ring he put on my finger a few hours ago.

I smirked when Joe got back down on one knee. He looked up at me, not breaking eye contact as he took my left hand and brought it up to his lips. He started delicately kissing the back of my hand. I bit my lip when he kissed my ring finger, directly above my ring. I finally let the moan out I was holding back as he took my ring finger and put it into his mouth, all the way up to my ring.

Joe slowly pulled my finger out of his mouth. I let out a shaky breath as he grabbed my thighs, rubbing his hands up and down them. Joe smirked up at me before tucking his head under my dress. I let out a shaky breath as he started kissing my thigh.

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes as he went up my thigh before switching to the other one. I gripped his shoulders tightly, not sure what else to do with my hands.

"Joe," I said, his name getting stuck in my throat.

I threw my head back when Joe started using his tongue to push into me through my underwear. I whined when he pulled his head out from under my dress just as I was starting to get into what he was doing. He slid his hands up my body as he stood up.

Joe gently grabbed my hands and placed them on his shoulders. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and grabbed my thighs. I jumped, helping him pick me up. I leaned in and started kissing his neck as he carried me to our room.

When we got to our room, he dropped me, catching me so I wouldn't fall. I slid my hands down, playing with the buttons of his shirt. Joe leaned down and kissed me again as I started unbuttoning his shirt. I slowly slid his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall behind him.

I danced my hands across his abs, smirking when I felt the goosebumps form under my fingers. Joe moaned against my lips as I started undoing his jeans. He bit my lip when his pants hit the floor. He broke the kiss and scanned my still-dressed body.

"Keep the ring on," Joe said as he breathed heavily. "Take everything else off."

"Yes, sir."

Joe let out a shaky breath, a shutter going down his spine at what I called him. I smirked as I reached up and slowly slid my dress straps off my shoulders. Joe bit his bottom lip as my dress fell to my ankles.

I gasped, turning into a giggle, when Joe gently pushed on my shoulders, making me take a step back. My knees hit the edge of our bed and I fell back onto the mattress. He smirked as he slowly climbed over me, not looking away.

He stopped when he got to my hips. Without breaking eye contact, Joe slipped my underwear off. Once they were discarded, he straddled my hips. He finally broke our eye contact long enough to glance down at the only piece of clothing I was still wearing.

He groaned, his boxers tightening, as I reached up and unclasped my bra from the front. I smirked as I tossed it aside. Joe quickly closed the gap between us and smashed his lips to mine. The momentum from the kiss made us fall back onto the mattress.

Our lips moved messily in sync as our bodies grinded against each other. I pulled on his hair as he massaged my hips. Our tongues were in the middle of an intense wrestling match when Joe grabbed my leg and wrapped it around his waist.

Joe slightly pulled away from the kiss to grab a condom out of his bedside table. He pressed his lips back to mine as he opened it. He was about to slip on the condom but stopped. He broke the kiss and looked at me, something in his eyes changing.

"You know," Joe whispered as he hovered over me, "we could get a head start on our family."

"No," I said, my breath getting caught in my throat. "Not yet, I mean. I want to focus on just us for a little while. Enjoy marriage and then build our family."

"You got it," he said before smashing his lips back onto mine.

As our lips moved in sync, Joe finished slipping the condom on. I bit his lip when I felt him push into me. I started chewing on his lip as he pulsed in and out of me. I arched my back, breaking the kiss. I struggled to catch my breath as Joe started kissing between my breasts.

I grabbed his waist, pushing him deeper into me. Everything about us fell in sync; our kisses, our thrusts, our moans. Our orgasms. We knew exactly what the other wanted in bed. We knew where the buttons were and how to push them.

It's just one of the reasons Joe and I worked as well as we did. In as long as we've been together, we've never had any issues with communication. I understood that sometimes his work schedule was crazy and he'd miss our weekly date night. He understood that I often saw other guys shirtless when they came in for a fitting. We understood each other.

We were perfect for each other.

* * * * *

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Joe whispered. He reached over, moving some hair out of my face. "What's on your mind, gorgeous?"

"I feel like I should apologize to you."

"What for, sweetheart?"

"I thought. . . This is going to sound ridiculous," I said, glancing at the ring on my finger, "but the last couple of weeks I thought you were cheating on me."

"What?" Joe asked, not an ounce of anger in his voice. He actually let out a small laugh.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I was confused and insecure. I felt like you've been jumpy lately. Checking your phone a lot more. I thought you were even checking my phone a couple of times. Talking to our friends."

"Let me explain," Joe whispered, pulling me so I was laying on his chest. He started rubbing his fingers up and down my back. "The time you caught me with your phone, I was getting your father's number so I could call and ask his permission. I was talking to your friends to get your ring size and your preferred diamond shape. The times you caught me on the phone and I ended the call quickly when you walked in the room, I was talking to your family and our friends so they could help me plan the surprise party after I asked you."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. I looked up at him, overcome with guilt. "I can't believe I would think that you would cheat on me. You'd never. . . I'm so sorry, baby."

"It's okay," he chuckled. He grabbed my chin and leaned down, pressing his lips to mine in a soft kiss. When he broke it, he looked into my eyes and nowhere else.

"I love you, Mrs. Future Keery," he whispered.

"I love you too, Mr. Future Husband."

#joe keery #joe keery imagines #joe keery x reader #joe keery POV #joe keery smut #requested imagine

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Elisview Manor P2

Media IRL

Characters Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Spooky

I did my best to make myself at home here I made up the fire, settled my things and ran myself a nice hot bath, the water steaming sweetly. I pealed the many layers of my dress away adding them to a small wicket laundry basket but leaving my ribbon as always, I went over and climbed into my bath having to hiss from the heat as I first climbed in but soon settled into the nice heat relaxing against the side for a while. Once I had relaxed all the knots out of my back I took my bar of soap and scrubbed the dirt and death off my body, I kept hearing that strange creaking and shuffling behind the walls but I did my best not to let it bother me as I finished up my bath. I climbed out wrapping my towel around me tightly heading out to sit by the fire and putting a brush through my hair before tying it up tightly to prevent it from knotting up into a mess while I slept. Once I was dry I slipped on my cotton nightie and closed up all my curtains, locked my door and headed to my bed I left a candle on the small table as I climbed into the large double bed built into the wall, the walls around and above me had a sweet wallpaper with thorned vines swirling around it, I got myself under the soft covers and blew out the candle plunging my room almost into utter darkness if not for the small light coming in from under my door and the flames flicking in the fireplace, I tried to settle myself to sleep but found the vast darkness frightening so I pulled the doors of my box bed closed and locked them from within giving me some peace that I was surely safe in my little box. I plumped my pillow and got comfortable happily drifting off to sleep to the sounds of wind whistling and my fire cracking.

I woke to the sound of knocking on my room door, I opened the shutters of my bed and climbed out heading over to the door and opening it up to see Miss Marybell.

“Good morning”

“Morning, The master of the house is leaving on business he requests to see you before he leaves.”

“I will get ready and come down as soon as I can, Miss” I nodded closing my door,

I got dressed for the day into my stockings boots, bloomers, dress and gloves tying my ribbon as always before I hurried down to the front gravel where a coach sat well loaded and I spotted Miss Marybell as well as the boy I met yesterday who immediately glared at me

“Ah there you are Miss Y/l/n” The master of the house smiled “Now I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you two take care of the house and look after each other” he said “I’m sure you two will find common ground over the coming cold days” He explained

“Yes sir” I nodded

“We can Hope” The boy glared

“Thomas. Be nice” He warned

“Yes Father” Thomas sighed

“Good, I’ll see you both when I return” he said before he finished his arrangements and climbed into the coach before it started off pulling away from the house. Miss Marybell headed inside to return to work leaving thomas and I stood together.

“Perhaps we should-” I began

“Go drown in the river” he snapped

“Oh goodness” I gasped “Please sir, whatever have I done to offend you so?”

“I want you out. As soon as possible. Whatever you up to you can forget it. I’m lord of the manor while my fathers gone” He said “You are to stay in your room, I find you out of it I’ll throw you in the elis river myself” He said heading inside

“Yes sir” I nodded headed inside and up to my room got one of my books and sat in the window seat to look out across the river listening to the wind whistle and the fire crack away doing my best to stay off the cabin fever already setting in.

I did my best to do as thomas had asked of me, but as lovely as my room was I found myself utterly mindless being stuck up in her all day every day, my only break when Marybell would bring me my breakfast and dinner her having long since dropped me off a pot and small rack so I could brew my own tea on the fireplace. I had been up here for days, But I snuck out of my room and did my best to sneak through the house doing my best to stay away from his part of the house, trying my best to explore without getting in any trouble. I stopped at the kitchens, and the library, and popped into several offices and unused rooms, and various windows looking out the gardens and river, I stopped for a moment as I saw a tall portrait of a well-aged woman standing in a long white dress in the middle of a group of ten young children the painting old but well cared for, and in the back corner I saw her.

“Mother.” I whispered, “Did you find yourself so sleepless here?”

“What did I tell you!” His voice echoed through the halls I didn’t even turn to look I simply bolted as fast as I could down the stairs and corridors with him chasing after me “Get back here you little witch!” I ran as fast as I could trying to get back to my room where I could shut and lock the door “Come here!” He yelled catching up to me, I turned seeing him so close behind me and he went to grab my neck but he grabbed the end of my ribbon pulling on it as he grabbed it immediately I screamed tumbling to the floor in a panic holding my neck tightly he stopped as he heard me scream looming over me his face softening as he seemed confused and alarmed at what exactly he’d done. “What?” He asked, “What did I do?”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer the seconds of silence between us seemed like hours until he moved closer kneeling beside me and offering my ribbon in his hand

“I’m sorry- I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he said “Here, Take it”

I took the ribbon and quickly retied it around my neck with a bow and fixed myself slightly “You didn’t. I’m sorry I-”

“It’s alright,” he reassured offering his hand and I took it as he helped us both to stand “What are you doing out of your room?”

“I became feverish sir”

“Sickness?”

“No, cabin fever sir. My room is very beautiful but it is only one room”

“I’m sorry. It has been a long time since a lady walked the halls of Elisview.” He said “I do not mean to be cruel. But I assure you, you are far safer in your room.”

“Safer? From what may I ask?”

“If I told you, you wouldn't be safe any longer”

“I see. Forgive me, for not listening to your rules.”

“Come. I’ll walk you back” he said

“Thank you” I nodded

He squeezed my hand still in his own and we walked the dark somber corridors together

“If I may ask how long has it been since a woman has walked the Elisview halls?”

“Discounting Marybell. You are the first since my mother died”

“Forgive me I shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine. You lost your own recently? My father told me”

“The dirt is still fresh upon her as it were.”

“I lost my own when I was thirteen. I warn you, The pain never truly leaves you.”

“I can’t imagine it would.”

“You lost your father too?”

“Many years ago.”

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright, we all must lose and gain” I answered

“I don’t see much of my father. He’s away most of the time, and even when he is here he doesn’t have much desire to see me.”

“Whyever not?”

“... it brings back memories for him. Terrible memories.”

“Of your mother?”

“He’s always said I remind him of her, he doesn’t want to be reminded of his loss,” he said I didn’t speak I didn’t want to tear open the wounds he clearly still carried “Here. get yourself in for the night,” he said as we reached my room

“Of course, Thank you for walking me back”

“Don’t leave again. Not without someone with you. Especially not at night.” He warned

“Yes sir” I nodded sheepishly

“But… I’ll come up in the morning take you down to breakfast. Stop you feeling so feverish”

“Ohh thank you”

“It’s fine” he snapped “Get to bed.” He demanded heading off into the house and disappearing into the darkness not long after, I did as he asked going into my room and locking the door, I took off my dress and changed into my nightie, I threw an extra couple of logs on the fire, closed up the curtains and headed to bed climbing in and shutting the doors on myself crawling under the covers and doing my best to sleep and not worry over his words, and his concern, often stroking my ribbon out of fear he may have seen below it.

#tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs smut #tbs imagines #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut

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slit-you-open · 7 months ago

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Thinking about bringing home this cocksucker i know, you know, one of those little fucking teases who doesn't seem to realize anyone's looking when they walk around with their thighs and stomach on display. I want them bad, I do. They say they're not looking for anything right now. Long term relationship. I'm about ready to snap, I want their ass so bad.

So fuck it. I'm thinking about bringing them back to my place. Tell him I want them in the living room, that we're going to hang out and have a nice platonic night in smoking weed and watching those dumb fucking cartoons he likes. I won't actually partake, but I doubt he'll notice. Justify it if he asks with work in the morning, but he probably won't even ask. Then... hell, I'll make him dinner, I know he likes that. Slip a little something fun in there. Not a serious tranq, I'm not pathetic. I want him to struggle. Just a little something to make it harder to remember in the morning. Shrooms, maybe, or a little ket.

I'll get him in my room somehow, it won't be hard. Tell him I've got a gift, or something to show him. They're stupid and trusting. It'll work, it'll be easy. They'll eat out the palm of my fucking hand if I tell them to. Just won't offer up that tight little cunt of his. The one fucking thing to call off-limits...

It'd be a classic to bend him over the desk, but really, a bed this big with a frame this solid is begging to be used. I'll pin his chest to it after we walk through the door. Trip him, maybe, the drugs will make him clumsy. He'll freeze first, ask what I'm doing; that's good because he's always wearing these tight denim jeans and I know it'd be a fucking hell of a time trying to unbutton them if he was thrashing. I could cut them off him if I need, but I don't want to have to need.

He's not gonna be that stupid even when I got him drugged up, though, I'm not gonna plan for him to be. He'll put it together when he feels me ripping his pants and his boxers away from his cunt. He'll start to struggle here, but not too hard. He's my friend. He won't want to hurt me, not at first. That works for me. He'll probably try to push his chest up, or try to push at my hands. Maybe both. Not coordinated. I keep ropes attached to the bedframe for other things - laundry lines and keeping stuff in place - but that's an excuse; the real reason is that it's easier to tie an errant limb up when you've already got everything attached. I don't want to really hurt him but i want to secure him first; i can always retie him later. His right arm is always going to be closest to the side of the bedframe. It'll be no hard task to catch it and tie it down to the metal, pull the line taut and trap his dominant hand to the side of the bedframe.

He's high, so he'll start begging here, getting scared. The tears will start to run, the gasping. "What are you doing, I don't like it, stop, what's happening?" Like music to my goddamn ears. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. And he's not stupid, just high. He knows some of what I like. It won't take long before he's really fighting, pulling hard and twisting and trying to bite me where I'm holding his face into the mattress. If I'm not careful, if he gets his teeth in my arm he's going to do some real damage, god knows he bites like a dog.

At this point fucking... planning around it is stupid, I know what I want and I know I'll be out of my mind with the wanting. i'd say I had more plans here, I'd say I'd fix the tie or I'd pull off his binder. I'm putting my fingers up his cunt, we all know that. He's going to be squirming and pulling, his stupid skinny jeans around his knees stopping him from doing almost anything with his legs, and I'm going to watch his ass work and the muscles strain and the way his belly fills out as he gasps for breath and I know I won't be able to stop myself. I'll swipe through his folds, flick his little t-dick, and then god knows I'll push my fingers into his hot little fucking hole and listen to the way his voice changes when I reach deep inside him.

He's probably tight as hell. He's been on testosterone longer than I've even known him. Every so often I hear him talk about this dildo and that one he can't quite make work any more. According to him he used to be a real size queen. I've been wanting to get my fist inside him since we met. I'll be seeing if it'll even work.

I think this'll scare him, just a little. He'll go still for a moment, let me fix my grip on his upper body. Easiest place to hold would be his neck, but he'll have a much harder time prying my hand off his upper spine, but honestly now that I have him where I want him I don't need him pinned. He's got nowhere to go; i'm between him and the rest of the room and his hand is tied to the bed probably tighter than it should be. I can let him up, wrap my forearm over his throat, instead. Not a choke, just a hold; something hard as fuck to get out of one-handed. Hell, he might even like having me pressed up against his back. He seems like the type.

He'll probably start trying to bite me again after a little of this, me fitting as many fingers as I can into his little off-limits pussy and panting and probably ranting deranged nonsense into his ear, and I'll have to grab his jaw if I want to keep control of that. That'll let him get a grip on my arm and try to pull me off, but that's not going to help him much. He'll probably try to kick off his pants, but there's no way that works out for him, not uncoordinated and without any real room to work. I might let his upper body go entirely just for the sake of looping my loose rope through the crease of his thigh and tying that to the bedframe too, though, just to hold him even more firmly in place. He'll probably slap at me, and god knows that'll make me laugh if it does anything. I don't think he'll be ready for me to hit back. I think he'll forget that's an option. I think it'll take him by surprise when I punch him in the ribs, and I think it'll really surprise him when i don't let him even try to get in another blow, no matter how uncoordinated, how when he starts raising his free off hand I'll hit him again, low and hard. I don't think he even knows how to land a strike on someone behind him; he might elbow me but I'd ve surprised if he did it well. And all the while I'd still be pumping my fingers in his cunt, feeling him twitching and clenching around me as I stretch his walls wider and wider.

I don't think two fingers will be hard to fit. Three maybe, but doable. My fingers are slim, all things told. The pinky I can work in no matter how tight he is, basic trick of physiology. When I get that in, I can work him over my knuckles. Maybe he'll tear. Won't put me off, I've always liked a little blood. Besides, he'll walk it off. If he's walking tonight, that is.

He's high and he's been fighting me. The more pain he's in, the less energy he'll have for any of that. I don't want him totally out of fight, but I want to maneuver him a little, move him around without getting kicked in the head for my trouble. These first few minutes are going to be the hardest, before i can really tire him out.

I'll force my whole hand into his cunt, thumb pinning his little t-dick between the side of it and the ridge of my hand, and while i'm curling and uncurling my fingers I'll push him up further onto the bed, change the angle so he's up on his toes, hips up on the mattress for me. That'll give me a good angle to get at him, really work my way into his cunt. Press the knuckles of my fingers hard into his cervix and the back of my hand against his g-spot, feel his little dick harden into the pressure even as he begs and sobs against my bed or tries again to shove me away. It'll be cute. I'll tell him, if I feel like it. I'm sure I will. It's cute that he'd get off from me violating his trust and his body like this, it really is, like he's practically a toy. Put in the right inputs, shove something into his holes and hold him down until he gets used to it, and he might even like it. I imagine this'll make him start fighting again; maybe it'll startle him bad enough if I ram my fist into him from the inside he'll stop and maybe it'll make him try harder, and there's no real reason not to find out. I'll give it a try, listen to the way he'll groan.

And all too soon it won't be enough, I know it. His turgid little clit pinned in my hand, his entire body splayed out for me, still tied. I really should fix that. Soon, sure. I need my hands free and I need my cock buried in him first. I'll give it one last thrust, one final squeeze to his clit, and then pull myself out, holding his folds apart. He might try to get away again, so I should be quick with this, working the head of my dick into his gaping hole. With the heel of my hand at the top of his pubis mound i should be able to keep him in place, at least enough, to thrust my way inside before he can get anywhere else.

Alright. With both hands free it's time to fix the ropes. He's probably got some compression damage on the wrist, maybe burns there and in his inner thigh both. And i need his legs to open wider anyway. I undo that and he's probably going to try to scramble up onto the bed; i'll use my off hand to catch him around the throat. Maybe by the hair instead. Maybe i'll hit him again. It'll make him jump, make him clench, make it all the better for me. Maybe i'll tell him I want to untie his wrist. Maybe he'll hold a little stiller for me, maybe he'll bide his time and try to get away when I undo the rope entirely. He'll feel good no matter what he's doing. I'll just be enjoying myself.

Instead of loosing his legs from his stupid tight jeans, I'll step through them with one leg, trapping his hips against me. I can maneuver fine like this. All it means is that he'll have even harder a time trying to get away from me. Then I'm going to lean over and sink my teeth into the side of his ribs.

By this point I know he'll be tired. Sapped of energy, between the fighting and the drugs. I'll take my sweet time with it. Tie his wrist back up right, tie his thigh up tight and admire the way it presses into the curve of his lower ass. Grope the parts of him he never lets me get away with touching, unzip his little binder and play with his stupid little tits and dig my fingers into the muscle between his belly and the bone of his hip, grab at his ass hard enough to bruise. Maybe i'll hold his little t-cock gainst the shaft of my own, stroke back and forth and tell him it's basically frotting, make a crack about how his is smaller than mine or something. Anything to put a little life into him, make him squirm and moan and go back to struggling like a fish on a line. Maybe he'll finally get one of his legs out of the jeans and try to kick me so I have an excuse to beat him black and blue.

I'll cum in him, just for the hell of it. I know he's not on BC, but i'd be surprised if anything came of it. I could blame it on his girlfriend if it did. Don't think they would even think of me either way. Then while he's lying there, tired and practically out of his mind, i'll take his phone and his thumb, use his tied-up hand to open the finger lock. What's he going to do, stop me? I'll open up his Instagram, post a story, maybe snap a picture of his face from the front, me barely visible in the back, slap some text on. "made a really bad choice tonight but it felt so good, might have to fuck around on the dl more often" or something. Throw some doubt on the record. We all know what he likes, it's not like it'd be out of this world for him to have asked me for this. If he didn't have that fucking girlfriend, that is.

Then I'll take some real photos, nice ones. Spanl bank material. His leaking cunt, maybe a shot with my fingers back in there if I'm still feeling tempted. My hands on his hair, his ass, his back, some of the brighter bruises. The ropes, probably. God knows the cherry burns and black fabric will sit nicely against each other. Maybe if he's really flying high I'll tell him to smile, see if I can't get a couple real good shots of his tear-streaked face in there too. Maybe i can even convince him he asked for this in the morning.

Because he's still going to be here, of course. He's high, he's got to sleep that shit off here. He knew that from the minute he got here.

I'll bundle him off to the shower, make sure he's clean and seems taken care of. I'll bandage any cuts. Remind him what a great time I had, tell him I'm glad we're friends. We'll crash in the same bed, the same way we always have. I'm sure he'll notice the way I'm holding him is hard to get out from unnoticed. I'm sure it'll be the first time he ever does.

In the morning I'll say something stupid, something cheesy. Ask him how I played the role or something, let him think I thought that was what he wanted. Ask if next time I should get him off more or if that was enough, if I should be rougher. If I scrambled his brains right, he'll be second-guessing already. He'll get nervous, get weird. He'll go home, work himself into a panic, and try to hide it from his girlfriend. But i'm sure someone's already shown her my post to his account, at that point.

Maybe they'll break up. Maybe he'll even ask me to tap his ass a second time, if I play my cards right.

Mmm... Maybe I really will invite him over. Just gotta make sure I have everything set up...

#r4p3 fantasy #fantasy #r4p3 m3 #showed this to the non-fictionalized version of the guy i wrote it about and he keeps telling me he's thinking about it #think that means i won at writing down fantasies

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wannabepapa · 2 years ago

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Oooh, okie I will send you an ask before bed then.

I keep thinking about both of us having long days and seeking solace in each other, but having absolutely 0 energy to do anything. I'd be waddling around the kitchen, doing what I can to help while trying to keep my heels from aching too bad. A short but conversation-filled dinner in the living space, a shared piece of cake I got from a student at work, a quick shared shower and we're in bed, snuggled up with my belly between us, our little nugget kicking and squirming up a storm. We'd both be tired and wonky, but the warmth and cozy vibes would be immaculate all the same

the long days filled with annoyances at work are all worth it in the end when i get to come home to you. though i am absolutely exhausted physically and mentally i am shuffling through the house to find you to give you a kiss on the cheek before my arms wrap around you. i can't give you a full hug now thanks to how big our little nugget has grown but i do over getting to feel your belly press against my softness. it isn't long before i'm also getting attacked by their kicks and punches so i'm kneeling down in front of you to give them much needed attention. i know their mom is doing everything she can for them and now she can take a load off so i can do what needs to be done before bed.

we'll do the little bit of cleaning while we're still coherent enough—i will be doing ll the bending and heavy lifting while you pick up around the house and come waddling over to help with putting away some laundry or dishes. in the kitchen we'll make a joint effort to preping the ingredients and i'll do the cooking if you are too tired to stand any longer. i love cooking so it doesn't bother me to be the one standing in front of the stove. we've got your chair pulled over to the side so we can talk about our days while you are off your feet for a few minutes. i take little breaks away from cooking to kiss the top of your head or place my hand on top of your belly to try calming the whirlwind movements of our little nugget.

when we've gotten through dinner with even more tired conversations in hushed voices we share that delicious desert that fills us up to capacity. i'll get the dishes in the dishwasher and do the kitchen clean up while you sit back and talk about what crazy things the baby did today. it's perfect, a happy contentment between the both of us as we cherish our time together before the baby is born. i try going on about having to put the baby's cot together when you're dragging me to the bedroom half awake at this point. the shower is quick but filled with gentle touches and even gentler kisses as i help you get washes up, dried off, and waddle walking with you to the bed.

i am far to lazy to get completely dressed. all that i manage is an oversized shirt and boxers before i've collapsed into bed. my eyes may be shut but i am aware the second your side of the bed squished down and you're shimmying into bed. my arms are open for you as you get situated, your belly pressing into mine as i wrap myself around you as much as i can. i can feel the kicks against my squishy stomach and an exhausted laugh tumbles out while i grunt out that it was bed time and they need to stop assaulting their mom and papa. it isn't long before we're both passed out—hands clasped together with twined fingers over your gravid swell with the tiniest movements before the too are asleep for the next few hours.

a perfect life. our perfect life.

#;ask and ye shall receive #darling marin #;Marin you are too good #;i also was desperately trying not to write this much but it got away from me #;i really just love the idea of coming home and getting to greet you heavy with my child #;it's doing things to my brain #domestic things

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morganicandlocal · 21 days ago

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i’ve been crying a lot lately. i’m crying right now actually. i don’t really like to cry and it’s not something i’ve done much of since I’ve been on antidepressants. some people hate that about antidepressants, that they make you feel less. i love it. i’m not sure my body could cope with all of my feelings unmedicated.

emma reminded me one night while i was weeping on the kitchen floor (because i was too hungry to think and i had just hit my head on the corner of the fridge and i had a hard day at work and we had just dropped a heartbroken friend off at the airport after too short of a visit and my period was about to start) that crying is a regulatory activity and even if i hate it, it will put me back in my body where i belong. i don’t really like my body, i don’t take very good care of it, i’m not sure it’s good for anything except housing all of my thoughts and feelings, most of which are harsh and unforgiving.

emma told me she loved me. she offered many perfectly good dinner options for me even though she wasn’t hungry. i whined petulantly and cried a little harder at every suggestion until buttered noodles. she offered her protein pasta for me to use. she gave me ideas to add fiber. i shook my head no. she said “that’s okay!” i insisted i could make it myself through a choked sob from my residence on the cold floor when she pulled out a pot and bag of pasta. she filled the pot with water and added a molly baz approved amount of diamond crystal kosher salt and said, “i’ll just start it and let you do the rest.”

i am at my parents’ house now, trying to get my 16 year old senile family dog to be near me for more than just the incentive of a slice of turkey from the fridge. i give him the turkey anyway and he walks away when i no longer offer anything practical to him. i hear my laundry spinning in the dryer. i have a washer and dryer in my apartment building but my mom thinks it’s silly to spend 3 dollars in quarters for one load of laundry. so, i spend my saturdays here and do my laundry for free.

my dad is in the garage. he’s replacing the struts on my car. i’m not totally sure what that means or why it needs to be done, but he does and i guess that’s all that matters for now. i called him crying weeks ago after my oil change at midas to tell him they said i needed $5000 of repairs. he didn’t offer me much comfort, just asked me to send him the quote. I did and we looked at it together. he told me he could fix all of it for less than $800. he told me i could send him money whenever. i half-joked through my pending tears and said, “i’d be bankrupt without ya.”

i think my recent tears are mostly good. i think they are reminding me of how loved i am. it’s easy to overlook practical love. i certainly overlooked it when i was younger. practical love shows up in such subtle ways and i’m feeling really grateful that my brain has been picking up on those ways lately. my best friend makes sure that i meet my own basic needs when i’m incapable of doing so myself. my dad sacrifices his saturdays to save me money. my sister in law finds home decor on facebook marketplace in my city that she does not even live in and sends me the link. my mom says that she’s glad i went to urgent care for that health concern i had and that she’ll split the copay with me.

i think my tendency towards hyper-independence and self sufficiency is slowly being suffocated by my realization of the practical love that surrounds me.

#adhd #therapy #journal entry #mental illness #rambling #love!#i love my friends

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roastntoast · 10 months ago

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I keep cancelling on people

I have a friend who lives nearby, she's very sweet and her kids get along with mine. However, she's more of a surface level friend since she's intertwined with the school and kids. I'm careful with friendships, there's really only about 2 friends that I truly confide in. Those 2 aren't connected with my family, nor do they even know each other. I have 2 others that I can confide in, but it's been so long since we've talked, that I can wait because I really only have enough energy to talk to one or two people about my life right now, and I'm thankful for what I have. Their conversations really do keep me from locking myself in my room and falling further into depression.

The friends I have that are connected to the kids have been pushing to go out to breakfast or lunch. Meet up and catch up with their lives. Let me be totally honest, since this is becoming my little diary anyway. I'm not in the best place mentally right now, some days it's all I can do to make dinner and do some laundry. I know how these lunch/breakfast dates go. It's forced, some of the ladies there I barely know. They live in these huge, and I mean, huge McMansions behind me. The conversations are all about vacations they take or plan to, big projects being done on their houses, endless expensive activities they have planned for their perfect children. Who are all in honors classes and most likely going to college on scholarships or school will be comfortably paid for. Let me tell you, I DON'T FIT IN WHERE I LIVE. I don't even try to pretend, but I'm at the point where I have to protect my sanity. Which means constantly saying NO to plans. I just can't do it. I confided in the one mom I am the closest with just by letting her know we were going to list our house for sale. I'd assumed she might try to understand the gravity of that situation, instead she invited her kids to sleepover my house. I can't assume people will be empathetic to me, but I also don't feel as though I owe anyone my personal business as an answer. No should be a complete sentence, but when the kids are mixed together, it's harder to hide. I just don't know what to make of it. I have other friends I've been canceling on too. My inner self is telling me it doesn't matter, and I don't owe anyone explanations. I know enough since I've stopped drinking, to protect myself in any way that I can. I made a promise I wouldn't put myself in any uncomfortable situations that might cause me to relapse. Normally you would think that means to stay out of bars and parties. But it isn't the alcohol that I'm afraid of, it's identifying what will make me want to drink it. Right now I'm avoiding pulling nails out of my living room ceiling, because I felt compelled to write. I'm glad I did, because I just reminded myself exactly who I'm protecting. I'll pull those nails, and I'm not afraid of being in uncomfortable situations. What I have to recognize is when I am strong enough to handle those situations and when I'm not.

Thoughts today,

R&T

#alcohol free #sanity #friendships #self preservation

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year ago

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Heart’s Choice - Chapter 2

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

Sometimes it takes a minute for my brain to catch up to my mouth, especially when I'm stressed or under pressure, which is what happens when I open my front door dressed in my underwear and find myself face to face with a pair of officers and some unexpected news.

"Dead? What do you mean he's dead?"

The male officer looks me up and down but I'm pretty sure he's not checking me out.

More likely he's comparing me to some profiling list in his head and checking off boxes.

✓ Mid to late twenties ✓ Male ✓ Longish hair ✓ Medium brown skin ✓ Obviously doesn't have his shit together ✓ Latino-looking ✓ Probably a criminal of some kind

"I mean that he is no longer alive, Mr. Martinez," the man says.

"He is deceased. Passed away. Expired."

"Está muerto," the female officer joins in helpfully.

I rub my hands over my face and do my best not to scowl.

"I get that, thanks. What I mean is... what happened?"

"That's what we're trying to establish, Mr. Martinez. My name is Detective John Turner. This is Sergeant Latoya McKenzie. May we come in?"

"Uh..."

I glance between the pair.

I'm pretty sure I can refuse but less sure I can do so without hurting my chances of appearing 'not guilty.'

They haven't said as much yet but also I'm pretty sure they're not here just to tell me Kyle died of natural causes..

"Of course."

I step back and hold the door open as they enter.

Two pairs of eyes rake across my living space, doing inventory, drawing conclusions and I cringe as I see it from a visitor's perspective.

I'm not a slob but I'm not Marie Kondo, either.

Most of my stuff is from thrift shops or hand-me-downs from friends.

None of the furniture matches, every dish I own is from a different set and it's been a week since my last weekly cleaning day.

I wince at the overflowing laundry basket, the dirty sink and the two-day-old pizza box occupying the coffee table.

"Sorry about the mess. I, uh, wasn't expecting guests," I say and then mentally kick myself.

The cops aren't 'guests,' Carlos.

Detective Turner quirks a brow but merely nods at the couch.

"Can we sit?"

"Of course. Uh..."

I scramble to clear away the pizza box, several dirty napkins, an open DVD case, a book and a packet of cigarettes.

The cops take the sofa, while I perch nervously on the edge of a well-worn La-Z-Boy.

"You smoke?" Sergeant McKenzie points at the Marlboro Lights.

"Huh? Oh, no. My aunt does."

"Your aunt lives here, too?" Detective Turner asks, pulling out a notepad and pen.

"No, no. She's in Oregon."

"Then why you got her smokes?" Sergeant McKenzie swipes a finger across my countertop, as if checking for dust.

"They're not hers. They're mine."

The pair share a glance and Turner scribbles a note.

"You just said you don't smoke. So which is it?"

I frown. It feels like I'm already being interrogate, and I don't even know what the deal is yet.

"I lived with my aunt until recently," I say. "Relatively recently, anyway. I was... feeling homesick, I guess. Missing her. I saw these at the gas station and bought them on a whim. Not to smoke, just to... just to have, I guess."

"Decorative cigarettes. Right?" Turner asks, making another note and my frown becomes a scowl.

"No offense, officers but what happened to Kyle and why are you here?"

Detective Turner takes a breath and studies me with a penetrating stare.

"Kyle Peters was murdered, Mr. Martinez, some time last night. Can you tell us where you were between the hours of ten p.m yesterday and two a.m. this morning?"

"I was here. Asleep."

"Anyone vouch for that?" Mckenzie asks and I shake my head.

"I live alone."

"You didn't text anyone, call anyone? Facetime your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a... No. I had dinner, took a shower and went to bed. I was tired."

"Hmm."

Turner makes another note and my temper finally wakes up (along with the rest of my senses).

These two obviously got here early, hoping to take me off guard and they succeeded.

I'm sitting in my living room, dressed in my underwear, being questioned by cops.

It doesn't feel real and in the dreamlike state of shock after learning my assistant is dead, who knows what shit I might say to incriminate myself?

"Look, just tell me what happened to Kyle," I say.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

I turn to Sergeant McKenzie.

"Yesterday, around lunchtime."

I scowl at Detective Turner.

He's hot, no denying that but obnoxious.

"Two pm. I gave him twenty bucks to go get us some burgers. He never came back."

"That didn't concern you?"

"Sure it did. I didn't get lunch, lost twenty bucks and had to finish the rest of the day's work alone."

"You didn't think to call him? Make sure he was all right?"

I meet his sexy Russell Crowe stare and refuse to blink.

"No. He's only been working here two or three weeks and it's not the first time he's dipped in the middle of a shift."

"Two or three?"

I narrow my eyes at him.

"What?"

"You said, 'he's only been working here two or three weeks.' So which is it? Two weeks or three?"

"Shit, I don't know. I'd have to check the books."

"Can you check them now?"

Glaring, I stand and stalk over to my 'desk,' which is really just a piece of scrap plywood bolted to some two-by-fours and painted white.

Painfully conscious of the detective's eyes on my back, I rouse my geriatric computer from it’s slumber and open a spreadsheet.

"Two weeks and three days," I say, and clear my throat. "He started on the 17th of last month."

"Thank you. That's very helpful."

I turn and find myself almost chest-to-chest with Mr. tall, dark and antagonistic.

There's a moment of silent masculinity measuring and then I yield, glancing away and taking a tiny step back, bumping into the desk.

Like Aunt Tony used to say, pick your battles or pick your tombstone.

Oddly, Turner seems equally off-balance, as if he hadn't meant to stand so close and takes a step to the side, allowing me a clear path back to my seat.

Excruciatingly conscious of the fact he's watching me, I make my way back to it and sit down.

"So. Are you going to tell me about Kyle or not?" I ask.

"I assume someone's spoken to his aunt."

"She's been informed," Turner says stolidly, as if Lucille can expect a standard government-issue letter in the mail.

"Kyle was found by a runner in the park, early this morning," Sergeant McKenzie says. "Where the trail goes under the highway between Chestnut and Main."

She pulls out her cell-phone and holds it towards me.

"He was surrounded by symbols like this. Any significance to you?"

I squint at the screen, then school my face into a featureless mask as a shiver runs up my spine.

"No. What is it?"

"Some sort of occult symbolism, as far as we can tell from the shit on the internet," McKenzie says, pocketing her phone again. "Kyle into that kinda thing?"

I shake my head.

"No. Not as far as I know."

Detective Turner sighs.

He hadn't retaken his seat and leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed.

Now he straightens and pulls a card from the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt and holds it out to me.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Martinez. We'll be in touch if we have any further questions."

"We're sorry for your loss," Sergeant McKenzie adds. "I hope we can count on your cooperation as we investigate."

"Of... of course," I say, taking the card reflexively.

"If you think of anything else, give me a call," Turner says.

Then, with a bit more awkwardness, they're gone and I'm alone again.

As soon as the door shuts at their backs, I dash upstairs and snatch my phone off the bedside table, ripping out the charging cable and bringing up Aunt Toni's contact.

Hands trembling, I tap her number and listen with my heart pounding in my ears as it rings.

Voicemail. Again.

‘Toni Martinez. I'm busy. You know what to do.’ Beep.

I draw a breath, words swirl in my brain.

Then, like I have the last three times I've called, I hang up.

I said some shit to Toni the last time I saw her, when I left for Spring Lakes, some shit I needed to say but maybe not quite the way I should have said it.

She raised me and overall she did a good job but she'd hurt me, too and with my words, I hurt her back.

That wasn't my intention but words are like toothpaste, hard to retract once they're squeezed out.

That symbol the sergeant showed me was familiar, too familiar and my first thought was to run to Toni for advice.

Now, I shake my head at myself as I get dressed.

I told Toni I didn't need her. Time to prove myself right.

The rest of the day passes in a blur.

I fix a busted tail light, change a battery, flush a transmission and order some specialty parts for a certain vintage Volkswagen.

The whole time I keep my phone with me, waiting for Lucille or Tony or the cops or someone to call me but it stays silent.

The shop is silent, too.

It's as if nothing happened and by the end of the day I've half convinced myself it was all a dream, that tomorrow Kyle will show up bright and early for his shift, with some wild story about why he never came back with that burger the day before.

As for what I'd seen on the sergeant's phone...

Maybe I was wrong.

It wasn't that clear of a picture, after all.

Maybe my coffee-deprived brain had just filled in the blanks.

I mean, what were the chances that mark would show up here and that it would have any relation to Kyle?

I've pretty much convinced myself of this, that Kyle met a tragic, untimely but ultimately mundane end, by the time I close up the shop for the day.

He was the victim of a mugging or a drug deal gone wrong or maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time but it's got nothing to do with me.

It weighs on my heart, of course.

The poor kid was so young and while I can't say he was destined for greatness, who knows what impact anyone else might have on the world?

Now whatever impact Kyle might have made, good or bad, is forever lost.

I'll have to buy a suit for his funeral, I think, as I trudge upstairs after work.

'If I'm invited to his funeral.'

I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower.

'Funerals are depressing as fuck. I hope I'm not invited.'

I wash my hair, soap up, rinse off and reach for my towel.

"Why you gotta do this to me, Kyle?" I sigh as I wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror and stare into my own dark eyes.

"I give you a job. You take my twenty bucks and get yourself killed. Where did I go wrong?"

Something moves in the reflection and I gasp and spin so fast I almost fall on my ass.

I thought there was someone in the room with me, an intruder appearing at my back.

Instead, I groan with a strange mix of terror and relief as I find myself face to face with Kyle's ghost.

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