#i need to tenderly grab his jaw and kiss him senseless !!!!!

[mister-ancunin]

my husband is so gorgeous…i need to lay under the night sky cuddling w him . n watching the moon highlight every beautiful feature of his while he points out constellations to me. i need to gaze at him lovingly when he’s staring at the sky n tell him the view looks wonderful when he asks . even tho im staring at him . not the stars. just saying.

[madpanda75]

“Taking Chances Part 10: The Perfect Gift”

Part 10 is here! Not gonna lie, this chapter is short and not my best work but a necessary bridge to get to the climax of our story! Fair warning, it ends on a cliffhanger. Enjoy! ❤️ 

It was the Tuesday after the dramatic Carisi lunch. You typically had Mondays off from the gallery and after fucking Rafael senseless in front of the fireplace, it didn’t take much convincing on your part to get him to play hooky. The majority of your day was spent in bed— making love, browsing through Netflix, and eating Chinese takeout. It was a much needed escape from your chaotic lives and you still had a few more hours before reality set in. 

The brilliant warm rays of the early morning sun peeked through your curtains. You languorously stretched your limbs, reveling in the sensation of your bare legs against the soft cotton sheets. With a long, drawn out yawn, you reached over to the nightstand for your cup of coffee and aimlessly flipped through a copy of the New Yorker. However your attention was otherwise preoccupied with a freshly showered Rafael walking around your bedroom with a towel hanging low around his hips. You nearly spilled your hot drink into your lap while counting the water droplets on Rafael’s bare chest, watching one droplet slide down his stomach towards his happy trail.

He let the towel drop to the floor and began to get dressed for work, arching his brow when he caught you perched on the edge of the bed staring at him with your jaw hanging wide open. 

You blushed and cleared your throat. “Are you sure I can’t make you breakfast?”

“Thanks for the offer but I should try to get to the office early,” he said, holding up two ties for you to choose from.

You picked the silk violet tie. The purple hue brought out your boyfriend’s brilliant green eyes. “Ok, but promise me that you’ll eat something other than the stale pretzels at the precinct.”

“I promise.” Rafael gave you a quick peck on the lips and wrapped his tie around his neck when he realized that he was missing a key element to his wardrobe. “Where’s my shirt? I swore it was right here a min—” His search for the missing shirt came to a screeching halt when he noticed you were wearing it.

“Sorry babe.” A nervous giggle escaped your lips. “Who knew Armani made such comfortable clothes and besides I love how it smells.”

Rafael furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “How it smells?”

“Uh huh.” Your cheeks turned bright pink and you nervously fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “It smells like you.”

An warm, fuzzy feeling coursed through Rafael’s veins at your confession. He cupped your face and tenderly kissed you before pulling away. “If you love the shirt so much, then it’s yours.”

“Really?” You glanced down at his undershirt and the tie draped around his neck. “But what are you gonna wear?”

“I have a spare shirt in my office that I keep in case of emergency coffee stains.”

You beamed brightly and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Best boyfriend ever,” you murmured against his lips before kissing him.

He deepened the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue as his hands inched further down your back towards your ass. You moaned in response, feeling him squeeze your cheeks.

“Mi amor,” he said between kisses. “I have to go.”

 “No. Five more minutes. Please,” you whined, pressing your body against his.

Rafael groaned, all the blood from his brain rushing towards his cock. You were playing a dangerous game. “If we keep this up in five more minutes I’m going to be between your legs, fucking you so hard that you’ll forget your own name.”

You nuzzled against his neck as your hand began to palm his growing erection. “Well they do say that testosterone is higher in the morning. Care to put that theory to the test?” 

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone.

With a sigh of defeat, you stopped. “Alright, can’t blame a girl for trying.” You planted one last chaste kiss on the tip of his nose and gently pushed him towards the door. “Go on. Get outta here.”

 “I’ll see you later tonight.” He grabbed his jacket and left the bedroom only to return 30 seconds later. “I forgot something.”

“What did you—” Rafael cut you off with a passionate kiss causing you both to fall back on the bed.  Your heart fluttered. You were so lost in the moment that you forgot how to breathe. You could taste him on your tongue. All too soon the kiss ended and you were left dazed with thoroughly soaked panties.

“I love you,” he purred and playfully nipped on your lower lip before leaving with a smug smile firmly planted on his face.

“Love you too,” you mumbled and held up the shirt to your nose, inhaling deeply. 

*****

A few hours later you were sitting in the small studio at the back of the gallery, dotting leaves onto a canvas. You skipped to the next song on your playlist and stepped back to analyze your work. The painting was of a large, vibrant tree in the center of a grey, bleak city. The tree was designed to look like Rafael. Its leaves matched the color of his eyes. Of course it wasn’t typical for trees to have seafoam green leaves but that was the beauty of art. You even tried to sketch his face in the trunk, its bark resembling his crooked smile and strong aquiline nose. 

Underneath the tree stood the shadowy figure of a woman meant to be you. The tree’s branches were outstretched, gently caressing you, comforting you. In the palms of your hands, you cradled your heart, offering it to the tree as the only possession you had to give. In your opinion, it was the perfect depiction of your relationship. Rafael was your protector. With him, you felt loved, safe, hopeful for the future. He symbolized a new chapter in your life.

Your “Rafael-inspired” piece was meant to be a surprise, since the elusive search for the perfect art for his home was still ongoing. Lucky for him, inspiration struck one rainy Saturday several weeks ago. Well, lazy for you. Rafael was busy typing away on his laptop. Snuggling against him with the rain pattering against the window, a flood of emotions washed over you. The next day you woke up before dawn, grabbed your brushes and paint and snuck over to the studio.

From above the sound of your music playing through your headphones, you heard the door open and turned your head to see your coworker, Phoebe, walk in.

“Bonjour, ma petite aubergine!” she said in a tone that was way too chipper for 8:30 in the morning. 

You snorted a laugh and turned off your music. “Good morning, my little eggplant?” you repeated the phrase.

“I love eggplant,” she replied with a shrug and went to stand behind you, surveying your work. “Hmmm… I like it.”

You made a face. “You sure? It’s not too cheesy?”

She hemmed and hawed for a moment before answering. “A little, but that’s ok. It's the good kind of cheesy.”

A sigh below past your lips. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she tried to reassure you. “And anyways, love makes people cheesy.” You blushed and went back to your painting while she milled around the room looking at your other pieces. “Ya’ know, there’s a new artist night at this gallery my friend works for. You should reach out to them. See if they’ll let you show your art. There are enough pieces here to choose from.” You opened your mouth to speak but she cut you off. “And before you say anything, I don’t wanna hear any excuses.” She gently took you by the shoulders and made you stand to face her. “You are incredibly talented and you should share that talent with the world while making a few bucks in the process.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you conceded, glancing back at your unfinished canvas.

Phoebe’s eyes widened. “I am? I mean, of course I am! Damn, this is the first time I’ve ever heard you consider doing a show. That Rafael guy must be a good influence on you.”

“Yeah, he’s the best.” You smiled, thinking back to earlier that morning. 

“Speaking of which,”—she grabbed a spare chair and sat down, getting comfortable—“how did the whole ‘meet the parents’ scenario play out?”

You threw your head back and groaned. “Ugh, why did you have to remind me?”

“Uh-oh. Sounds like we’re gonna need coffee.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’m gonna get a cappuccino from the cafe around the corner. Can I get you something?”

“An Americano and a cinnamon roll.”

“Be back in a flash. I wanna hear all about it. Family drama sustains me, especially when it’s not mine,” she teased before leaving.

You rolled your eyes and began to tidy up. While you stood at the sink, cleaning your brushes, watching the colors swirl and dissolve down the drain, you wondered if Rafael would like his surprise. You hoped he would. It took you hours to get just the right shade of green. 

This gift was a big deal. Apart from your parents, you had never created a piece for anyone else. Your art was private. It was personal. Giving it away was like giving away a part of you. But you and Rafael were beyond that. This past weekend only confirmed what you had known from the moment he stepped into the gallery— that you were his, completely.

The sound of the door opening snapped you out of reverie. “That was fast, Phoebe,” you said over the running water. “I guess the cute barista wasn’t working today cause normally you spend a solid twenty minutes flirting before actually ordering your drink. I’m almost finished here. Give me a sec and then I can tell you about the worst Sunday lunch in the history of the Carisi family and that includes the time my Aunt Anita stabbed my Uncle Tony with a fork. ”

“Awww c’mon, babe. It wasn’t that bad,” said a voice that you recognized all too well. 

Stunned, your hands froze, the brushes clanging against the sink. “This can’t be happening. Please, God don’t let it be him,” you thought, slowly turning around only to find your ex-fiancé standing right in the middle of your studio. 

“Theo,” you stammered. “What are you doing here?”

He ignored your question and took a step towards you with a sinister smile that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Suit Up 2

A sequel to this fic

Warnings: dub/noncon sex (a good ole American threesome, blowjobs)

This is dark!Stucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Bucky asks Steve to join.

Note: Y’all, this will be the only sequel, okay! You have Yours, Mine, and Ours, which I’ll eventually finish, but for now, enjoy this dose of Stucky.

Anyway :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read. <3 Love you all.

The next morning, you were exhausted. Bucky hadn’t stopped until you were entirely spent. He stayed after; snoring soundly at your side. Your body ached and your mind reeled. You could be mad at him for what he had done, but you were angrier with yourself for enjoying it. You could lie to him, but you knew the truth.

He had taken the suit off one piece at a time. The gloves were first. Then he fingered you until you were wailing. Then the belt. He fucked you again, this time on your back. Then the boots. He bent you over once more. The shirt and he lifted you up. When at last the pants came off, he had you on top of him. He didn’t need to guide you. Your body worked on instinct.

You woke several times. When at last you gave up on sleep, you tried to slip out from beneath his arm. He stirred and squeezed your ass. He pulled you back to him. He was hard again. His cock poked your stomach as he rolled you to face him.

“Where are you going?” His voice was thick.

“To shower,” You pushed on his chest and he slid his hand down your pelvis. He pet the small vee of hair that framed your pussy.

“I’ll join you,” He grinned sleepily, “I’ve got a long day. Me and Steve gotta meet Tony to go over our next mission and then--”

You pulled away from him and he caught your wrist. He pushed you onto your back and pinned you down with a hand on your shoulder.

“What? What is you problem?” He demanded.

“I can’t act like last night was normal, Buck.” You squeaked. “Steve--”

“Steve knows we fuck. He’s not that innocent. And by the look on his face, I’d say he didn’t mind walking in when he did.”

“Bucky! He’s a client. How am I supposed to look him in the face?” You grabbed his hand but his hold on you didn’t budge. 

“You didn’t have a problem last night. Not by my count.” His hand went to your neck and he dragged his fingers along your throat. It sent a shiver through you. “I don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard...or that much.”

“Because of you, not him,” You insisted as his eyes focused on his hand. His fingers stretched along your neck in a unspoken threat. He had never been so rough before. Never so...insatiable.

“It’s okay if you’re attracted to him.” He said. “Last night was fun, wasn’t it? The suit is kinda sexy.”

“The suit,” You cringed. “I never want to see it again.”

He chuckled. He leaned in and kissed you. “Sure,” He said dryly. “Let’s shower then,” He released your throat and sat up. He pinched your thigh and turned his legs over the edge of the bed. “You should definitely get cleaned up.”

He stood and you watched him disappear through the bathroom door. You got up slowly and looked around. The suit was strewn across the room. The boots and belt tossed around the chair, the shirt across it, the gloves underneath, and the pants a crumpled heap by the bed. You rubbed your forehead, almost in disbelief. It felt like a dream. Far-fetched; impossible.

You entered the bathroom. Bucky was already in the shower. You stood in the doorway and stared at his blurred figure through the plastic curtain. You pondered waiting until he was done. You needed time to think. To process everything.

“Well,” He pulled back the curtain, “You gonna get cleaned up?”

You forced yourself away from the door and resigned yourself to a little longer. You couldn’t figure out if you were mad at him. You were more confused. As you stepped in behind him, you shuddered. 

The hot water streamed down his broad back. He turned to you and he was still hard. You wanted more despite your doubts. He was your Bucky. The man you had loved for years.

“Come on babe,” He cupped your tit as he noticed your eyes on his cock. “We’ve got time.”

You couldn’t help your guilty smile. You bit your lip as the water splashed over his shoulders and against your chest. “Goddamn you.”

He slipped his arms around you and pulled you close. He bent to kiss you as his right hand explored your body. He kneaded your ass and wiggled his hips as his erection rubbed against you. You slung your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

You lifted your leg and he reached down to hold your knee in place. He turned you and pushed you against the tile. You were on the tip of your toes as he bent his knees and lined his cock up with your entranced. He nibbled your lip as he entered you.

You gasped and he sank to his limit. The water rained down over you and he thrust into you long and hard. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair as he worked against you. You tilted your hips and welcomed him deeper. He grabbed your other leg and lifted you entirely. You bent your legs around him as he crushed you against the wall.

“Do you still love me?” He nuzzled your neck as he spoke.

“Yes, of course,” You rasped. “Yes.”

You moaned as he sped up. The heat of the steam and his body mixed with that blooming in your core. You moved yourself against him and hummed. 

“Tell me,” He said and bit into your flesh.

“I love you,” You breathed, “I love you, I love you.”

You rutted against him and cried out as you came. You shook and he guided your body. He rocked into you harder and harder. The tile was unforgiving against your back and your shoulders began to ache from the crush of his body. 

“Fuck,” He threw his head back and plunged into you entirely. “I--” He moved his hips with each word. “Love--You.”

He brought you to his hilt and his chest rose and fell rapidly. His cum slowly dripped out around his cock as he leaned against you, his arm just above your head. He kissed you tenderly and rubbed his nose along yours.

“You’re so good to me,” He cooed, “So perfect.”

-

A few days later, Bucky and Steve left for another mission. You had yet to run into Steve alone. The few times you had seen him had been in passing and you managed to flit away while he was distracted with another. Even just the thought of him had your heart racing. 

What did he think of you now? When he saw you, did he recall that night? You splayed before Bucky on the bed, senseless and sloppy.

You were thankful for the time away from both super soldiers. A chance to think. Bucky had been with you almost every night and had turned voracious. When you first started dating, he had been clingy. He was all over you whenever you were alone but he had been sweet. Now he was insistent; ruthless, even.

Sooner or later, you’d need to face Steve. You worked with him after all. He made more public appearances than any Avenger aside from Tony. That meant you saw him more than the others. It was unusual not to see him every day. Some weeks, you saw him almost as much as Bucky, sometimes more.

Maybe that was why Bucky had taken the suit. Something had sparked his jealousy that day. You had always been friendly with Steve. You met him before you had Bucky. He had introduced you. 

The former winter soldier had been uncertain of the peppy PR manager. He had never been skilled at expressing his emotions, had he?  It had taken a huge argument for him to admit that he liked you. It was cute to see him so flustered. And when you said you liked him back, it was as if you had smacked him across the face. Now you were the one in shock.

It was over a week before they returned. Bucky texted intermittently; all was well but slower than expected. He couldn’t wait to be back but you were anxious for his return. For Steve’s, too.

You were in your office when you got the text. Bucky wanted you to meet him on the jetpad; they were about to land. You were stuck on the phone with an editor who wanted an interview with Stark. The negotiations were not going well. The magazine had not been kind in their last meet with the billionaire. You texted back, ‘as soon as I can’.

Finally done with the stubborn editor, you promised her a call back the next day after you spoke with Tony. You hung up and tossed your phone on the desk. They were probably already landed. Bucky wouldn’t be happy. You stretched and stood. You headed out, your heels echoed down the hallways as you sped to meet Bucky before he came to find you.

You turned the corner and crashed into a wall. Well, not exactly. Steve’s thick hands grabbed your arms and steadied you before you could topple over. You looked up at him in surprise and he released you sharply as if he had been zapped. He forced his hands back to his sides and cleared his throat.

“S-Steve,” You smiled. Your lips trembled nervously. “You’re back.”

“Hey,” He wouldn’t look at you, instead he kept his eyes just behind you. “Yeah, it was a, uh, long mission.”

You paused and stared at his chest, his thick arms, his square jaw. “I was just...going to find Bucky. He, um, messaged, but…” Your voice died and you swayed back and forth anxiously. “Yeah, I uh, should...go find him.”

“Sure, yeah,” He agreed and scratched the back of his head. “I’ll just get out of your way.”

You tried to sidestep him but he went the same way in his effort to let you through. You changed course and he did the same, the two of you failing to get past the other as you went back and forth in an awkward dance.

“Just--” “I’ll go this way--” You and Steve struggled to get out a full sentence as you avoided touching each other.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice ended your terrible tango and you both turned to look at him as he strode towards you. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Sorry, just running a bit behind,” You explained and finally got past Steve. You unwittingly brushed against his hand as you did. “I was coming though.”

“No worries,” He wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you. “I’m just happy to be back.”

“I’ll see you two later,” Steve said quietly. “Tony’s waiting.”

“Sure,” Bucky called over your head. You looked up as he watched his friend go, a peculiar smirk on his face. “So, what was that about?”

“Nothing, we just...ran into each other,” You replied. “I was just on a call and a bit distracted so…”

“Mmhmm,” He didn’t sound convinced as he turned you back the way you’d come, his arm slung over your shoulders. “You have time for a break or do you gotta get back?”

“Actually,” You sighed, “My day is full up. Especially after your mission, I’ve gotta explain that bridge you two decided to collapse.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” He chuckled. “Well, what about after work? We can catch up then.”

“Sure,” You shrugged. “If you’re not too tired.”

“I’m fucking wired,” He squeezed your shoulders. “What a long mission. I just couldn’t get you off my mind, babe.”

“Well, you’re back now,” You stopped and turned to him, “I’ll try to finish up by seven, okay?”

“Seven, or I come find you,” He smiled and bent to peck your lips. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” You returned, “You better catch up to Steve though, Tony’s not in a patient mood.”

-

Bucky didn’t lie. He did come to find you. You were happy to have him to force you away from your work. You went to your room and he had you on the bed in seconds. It was like a breath of fresh air. He was sweet again, gentle even. You forgot all the worries of your day beneath his touch.

You showered after. He still smelled faintly of his sandalwood soap but you felt grimy in your own sweat. He reclined on the bed with eyes closed as you disappeared into the bathroom. 

You left the door open a crack and turned on the faucet. The heat of the stream made you eager for sleep.The hot water, Bucky’s tender touch, and the tranquility of the evening calmed you. It almost felt as it had before. 

That was, until you thought of Steve and your tense stand off in the hallway. You had to meet with him tomorrow; there was no way around it. He had an appearance at the end of the week and you hadn’t even gone over the talking points. You’d just have to swallow your shame and get it done with.

You lost yourself in your thoughts and by the time you stepped out of the shower, the water had started to run cold. You rubbed your hair dry and wrapped the towel around you. Hopefully Bucky already dozed off and you could just sneak in beside him. You opened the door and stopped short. 

What the fuck?

The bed was empty but Bucky wasn’t gone. He stood by the door and watched you enter. He smiled as the shock marred your face and looked to the new presence in the room. 

Steve stood by the bed in full regalia. The suit fit him much better than Bucky. His blue eyes sparkled under his helmet and he grinned.

You looked back to Bucky. He had pulled on a pair of jeans to welcome his friend and blocked the door with his broad figure. He crossed his arms and nodded to Steve. 

“Surprise, babe.” He smirked. 

Steve shifted his weight on his feet. You could hear the strain in his leather boots. You grasped the front of your towel tightly and gaped between the super soldiers.

“Surprise?” You repeated.

“That little show in the hallway was cute, but we both know what you really want,” Bucky said. “So, it’s yours.”

“I don’t--” You turned to Steve and despite his earlier reticence, his eyes shone with anticipation.

“We talked on our mission. Lots of time for that, you know?” Bucky explained. “I never had a problem sharing.”

“Bucky,” Your voice was thin, unsure.

Bucky neared and rested his hands on yours. He slowly pushed them down and wrestled the towel from your grasp. He left you entirely baer as he stepped back. He tossed the towel away and crossed his arms once more. “Go on.”

You tried to cover your body as you felt Steve’s gaze on you. He let out a dusky breath and you shivered. 

“Don’t be a shy girl, we both know you’re not the type,” Bucky remarked. “So go on and suck the Captain’s dick.”

You glanced over at Steve, his gloved hand brushed over his crotch. His erection pushed against his pants as he bit his lip. Unthinking, you poked your tongue out between your lips. Steve unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down his hips. His cock sprung out and he gripped it in one hand.

“You’re the Captain,” Bucky growled impatiently. “Tell her what to do.”

Steve inhaled and pushed his shoulders back. He gave a small nod and turned to sit on the end of the bed. He stroked his cock as he watched you. “Come here,” He pointed between his legs, “On your knees.”

You were in shock and yet you felt the arousal in your core. Bucky tutted and neared you once more. He grabbed your elbow and pressed himself against you. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We both know you want to fuck him, so do it.” 

He let go and smacked your ass. You stumbled forward and your feet carried you without thought. You came up before Steve and he pulled his hand away from his cock. He leaned back with his hands behind him on the mattress and your mouth formed and o as you looked down at his length. 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” He gloated. “Bucky’s told me all about that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You got carefully to your knees and gulped as you stared at his cock. You wrapped your fingers around it gently and he groaned. The heat of his body surrounded you and made you sweat. You glided your hand up and down his length and he shuddered. He grabbed your wrist and squeezed. 

“I said use your mouth, doll,” His voice was harsh. “Captain’s orders.”

You could sense Bucky watching you. The door shifted as he leaned against it and you peeked behind you. Steve let go of your wrist and grabbed your chin. He turned your head back to him.

“Don’t worry about him.” He growled and his hand slid around the back of your head. “Now, open up.”

He pushed your head down and his cock pressed against your lips. You spread them over his thick head and tasted the salty precum that had gathered along it. He sank to the back of your throat. You gulped and took him deeper until you couldn’t breathe.

You pulled back and he kept his hand on your head. He urged you back down and led your motion as your mouth slid along his cock. He bunched your damp hair in his hand as he leaned back. He groaned and your spit spread around your lips sloppily. 

“Fuck,” He breathed out as he pushed you down faster and harder. 

You bobbed your head eagerly and grasped at the waist of his pants. You felt cold metal fingers along your spine and Bucky gripped your shoulder as he bent to whisper to you. 

“Make him cum,” He pressed his hand to Steve’s and forced you deeper. “Swallow it all.”

Bucky backed away and Steve kept your motion steady. He groaned louder and louder until he swore. His hot cum spilled down your throat and you struggled to take it all without choking. You swallowed around his cock and he tugged your hair. 

Slowly, you pulled away from him, your spit and his cum strung between your lips and his cock. He let go of you and panted as leaned back on his hands. You wiped your mouth and the shadow behind you moved. The chair gave a soft creak. Bucky waited patiently as Steve tore off his helmet.

“Stand up, doll,” Steve sat up, “Turn around.”

You stood shakily and Steve’s hand traced the curve of your hips and thighs. You turned your back to him and he slapped your ass. He shoved his hand between your legs and felt around. He spread your juices with his fingers and hummed in approval. 

He pushed his fingers inside and you flinched in surprise. He pulled them out and dragged them down your thigh. He left a trail around to your ass and grabbed your hips. He led you back and lowered you onto his lap. 

He lined himself up and slipped past your ass. You spread your legs as he entered you inch by inch. He stopped halfway and pushed your ass apart. He looked down at his cock and slapped you again. 

“You want more, doll?”

“Yes,” You rasped and placed your hands on his thighs. 

“Yes…” He lifted you slightly off his cock.

“Yes, Captain,” You begged. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” He pulled you down entirely and you cried out. 

He reached down and pulled your knees over his. He spread your legs as far they could go and stretched his fingers around your waist. He moved you up and down his cock. He snaked one hand up to your chest and played with your tits. He kneaded the flesh and tweaked your nipples as he led your motion.

“Look at him,” He hissed, “Look at him when you fuck me.”

You inhaled sharply and licked your dry lips. “Yes, Captain.” You peeked over shyly at Bucky. He smirked as he watched your body bounce against Steve’s. He gripped the arms of the chair as his bulge pressed against his jeans.

Steve slammed you down harder and harder. You arched your back as he stretched you to your limits and your walls ached around his cock. Your eyes closed as you moaned wildly and reached down to rub your throbbing clit. 

The chair shifted again and you sensed a shadow in front of you. Bucky tore your hand away from your bud and replaced it with his. He rubbed you with his metal fingers as he got to his knees. His eyes clung to your pussy as Steve thrust in and out of it. The front of his pants were slick from fucking you.

“Are you going to cum?” Bucky snarled. “Hmm, are you gonna cum all over the captain’s cock?”

You whined and he swirled his fingers. Your breath hitched and Steve pulled your arms behind you. Bucky leaned forward to take your nipple in his mouth and nibbled it before looking up at you again.

“Tell the captain you’re going to cum,” Bucky said. “Let him hear it.”

“I’m gonna cum, Captain,” You exclaimed as the buzz began to intensify. You bucked atop Steve and your voice cracked at the sudden peak. “Ah, I’m--cumming, Captain.”

Bucky kept his fingers moving through your orgasm and Steve guided your body. He didn’t slow as his own moans began to rise. 

“Oh, you bad girl,” Bucky teased your overworked clit, “You’re going to make him cum.”

“Shit,” Steve hissed and pulled you down as deep as he could. 

He rocked his hips as you felt his cock twitch inside of you. His cum coated your walls and Bucky pressed on your bud until your hips tilted. He pushed his fingers along your folds and slipped one in beside Steve’s dick. He pulled it out slowly and held up his slick index for you to see. He smeared it down your chest and smirked.

He stood and Steve lifted you off his cock. His cum leaked down your thighs and Bucky spun you around. He pushed on your shoulders until you bent over. Steve caressed your cheek and guided you back to his cock, now glistening with your cum and his. 

You opened your mouth to take him as Bucky unzipped behind you. He entered you in a single thrust and bottomed out. You heard Steve’s cum squelch around him as he began to thrust. You tasted yourself on Steve’s cock and he held your head with both hands.

You held onto Steve’s thighs as you worked your mouth around him and Bucky pounded into you from behind. His metal fingers hooked around your shoulder and his other squeezed your hip. His grunts filled your ears as both soldiers worked your body for you.

“You like sucking his dick?” Bucky sneered. “Hmm? Does it taste good?” He slapped your ass and sped up. “You gonna swallow again?”

Steve grunted and fell onto his back with his hands still around your head. He forced your head down as he came and you felt it in your throat. You swallowed it through your heavy breaths and he let go of you. 

You removed your mouth from him and clung to his thighs as Bucky kept fucking you. He bent over you and hooked his arms around your and pulled you back. You were on tiptoes as he hammered into you. Your pussy thrummed and your legs shook as you came around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” He cursed and crashed into you. “Fuck.”

He thrusts were painful as he came and bottomed out entirely. You were once more filled as his cum mixed with Steve’s. His heat added to your own. You were weak, delirious, and still hungry for more. 

Bucky was breathless as he pulled out and led you toward the bed. “How do you want her next?”

[kinkyacademia]

Hi made this out of the depths of despair just to comfort myself. If anybody else needs some top tier stupid comfort from Dabi, soak this crap up. The subject was really dumb, but I still bawled my eyes out over it.

All normal fucked-ideals villain warnings apply ^-^

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

You and Dabi lived in a small apartment together, his career with the League just starting to bloom. He loved how down to earth you could be, and you loved how oddly human he was outside of his murderous, dangerous persona.

While you were down to earth, you got very... attached to certain things. The lamp in your shared bedroom that Dabi bought for you as a gift that he also accidentally broke, the silverware set from your parents, and most importantly, character from your favourite goddamn show. In this particular one, you thought you had gotten over the death of your character’s very closest, most important friend that they would have done anything for.

Well apparently not. The fact that you were face-deep in a pillow typically used as Dabi’s arm rest, staining it with your tears and bawling like a maniac was proof enough that you were definitely, 110% not over their death. Someone had posted a video as a tribute to their death, and you couldn’t keep yourself from entirely relapsing your sadness over their death. You knew Dabi would be gone for at least another few hours, so you could recuperate, fix your makeup, clean the pillow and maybe cook dinner to distract him from the sombre mood you were in. Perhaps you could even chug half a bottle of wine to rid yourself of the thoughts plaguing you.

Damn it, why did they have to go die? They knew they were going to die, they knew very well they would die if they continued what they were doing. Alas, you pushed yourself up, stumbling to the liquor shelf in your dimly lit kitchen and grabbing the rest of the wine Dabi always kept stocked up.

He mostly used it for occasions where he was sad, but he said that if you ever needed them for the same reason, to always call him before pouring it. He didn’t want you to be alone when you were sad, but god damn it you knew this reason wasn’t good enough to call your very busy boyfriend off from his mission to murder the leader of a growing gang in a southern part of the district Shigaraki liked to call his own.

You would have gone with him, but your quirks didn’t compliment each other’s quite well in battle, and Shigaraki in his attempt to be a better leader had said you wouldn’t go with him no matter what. You didn’t want to under mind him in case he would lash out, so here you were, crying over a stupid character death when you could kill an entire room full of important figures and never care. But you always got attached to characters from TV shows because there was so much to love about them. So much to care about, and in this case, the character was extremely important. Sometimes this show liked to kill off important characters like that to cause shifts in the main cast, but your favourite character’s friend have to be the one? Technically yes, but that still caused them to be so sad, and they didn’t deserve it, and...

Yeah you would need the whole bottle. There was just over half left, and at this point in your sorrow, you were through most of it. As your head began to become foggy, your heart skipped a beat - somebody was jangling their keys, looking for the right one. Even inhibited, you always knew to stay alert. Dabi’s key chain was one you knew all too well, so you set the glass down making sure not to break it, then ran to the bathroom, eyes wide. You were still crying! You would look pathetic in his eyes, you were a murderous feign who upheld a gruesome vow to Stain, not some schoolgirl who cries over fake characters.

Desperately trying to fix your makeup, the door opened and Dabi called out, “(F/N)?”

You didn’t respond, working quickly and efficiently. He seemed to be doing something, and right when you felt confident enough to strut out of the bathroom, you heard him sigh, “What happened this time?”

Your jaw clenched. He was standing in the kitchen, his coat dark in some places from the obvious smell of blood in the air, and his hair was a bit flat from - gods had there really been that much blood? You cocked an eyebrow, trying to fake confidence, “I wanted to get drunk.”

“And why do you want to get drunk?” He picked the glass up, twirling it around and watching the sediment on the bottom fly back up into the glass. He then took a sip, sighing as the poison burned the back of his throat, eyes closed in bliss. He had probably gone into the kitchen first to pour himself a glass of the same stuff.

“Past tense, my dear, did. And because I can, don’t you know?” You giggled, hoping to fool him into thinking it was purely sadistic choice. His eyes narrowed as you swayed towards him, but he knew you too well. Dabi was the master of memorizing body language, and that wasn’t a drunken gate.

“You were crying,” He slowly put the glass down, and you shrugged, unable to uphold the lie any longer, but too stubborn to tell him why.

“So what? We both cry at times, sometimes more than civilians,” You felt a familiar tickle in your throat, and quickly suppressed it. You wouldn’t start crying again, not right in front of your boyfriend. He took one more step to be right in front of you, and you expected what came next.

“Don’t,” Like lightning, he grabbed your jaw, angling your face up at him and raising you to your toes, “Avoid the subject, (F/N). Why were you crying?” But this wouldn’t spark the fearful excitement in the way it usually did. You were too far off at this point for it to affect you. You merely grinned, gripping his hand around you with a fairy-light touch.

“Fuck it out of me,” That would certainly change his mind. His eyes shifted, widening and then narrowing as a smug expression pulled as his lips, but you witnessed him consciously push it down.

“I’m not an idiot. In fact, I come from a long line of smart assholes. This one wants to help you,” He leaned forward, leaned down to be level with you, “Don’t take my love for granted.”

You considered telling him the stupid reason, and you considered lying again. It was dumb, absolutely dumb, but you loved him. Perhaps you could fake how bad you had been crying? No, he saw the wine, he knew it was intense. Goddamn it, but when he was being this dominant, you couldn’t think straight...

“It was (Fav Character Death),” You averted your eyes away from him, and you were slowly lowered to the floor again. Instead of inspecting the damage, you ducked around him to grab the wine glass, “It’s a stupid reason, Dabi, just drop it.”

“Yeah, it is,” You turned to him as he was taking off his coat, and you could see spots were the blood had soaked through to his white undershirt. He walked out, and you had a second to yourself to sip the wine and think things over. The usually emotionless prick was your boyfriend, but you didn’t want to burden him with the things that you found interest in. He was back quickly, and you heard the smaller washer that had come with the apartment. You watched him as he opened the cabinet, pulling out a jar of peanut butter and then grabbing a spoon. He spoke first, as usual.

“It’s not stupid to get upset over anything. You can’t control that stuff. At least you’re normal enough to connect to a fiction character,” You perked up at that, but then felt your heart melt when he stuck a spoon full of peanut butter into his mouth, turning on a dime to observe your expression. His own quickly fowled as he scowled, “Stop that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” You waved him off, taking another sip of wine. He approached you once again, place his hand on your own.

“You should be, I’m not cute, I’m a murderer,” He could always read your thoughts, the damned smart bitch. You rolled your eyes at that, smirking.

“Since we’re both ruthless killers, that means we’re on an even playing field, so I have every right to say you’re-” A half-eaten spoon of peanut butter that tasted suspiciously like your boyfriend’s mouth was shoved into your own, and he snatched the wine out of your hand.

“It’s my job to be drunk,” He took a sip, and you whined while trying to get the rest of the peanut butter off of the spoon. He observed you, his own expression that of contentment. You knew he was thinking the same thing about you - how cute you looked - but you didn’t have it in you to shout at him. You were too tipsy and too emotionally drained.

“It’s sthicky...” You whined, and he chuckled raising his eyebrows as he chugged the rest of the wine glass, then smacked his scarred lips and walked past you, setting it down and grabbing the glass to refill it.

“Don’t worry, I promise to fuck you senseless later. Now, I have to put up with my sad girlfriend,” Your whining continued, and you shook your head, throwing the spoon into the sink and walking to the couch, plopping down. Dabi was next to you in a split second, wine glass still in hand.

“Getting connected to fictional character is one thing, but crying over their deaths? I kill people, Dabi, this is just pathetic,” You grumbled, and he shrugged. You went to grab the remote from the foot rest, but he put one boot on it, cocking an eyebrow. You gave one back, but reluctantly leaned back into the couch.

“You’re not emotionless, that’s what counts,” He started to sip from the glass, probably just pretending to enjoy it. All he craved was the high, not the flavour.

“A good killer is emotionless-”

“Stain would disagree,” Your eyes snapped wider. He rarely brought up the man both of you admired so much, and when he did, he always made a point with it, “We need a world with heroes who save because it’s what’s right. That means we need an underworld of those who kill because it’s what’s right.”

You unconsciously smiled, glancing down at his hand as you took it with your own tenderly. He ignored the gesture, but allowed you to hold it, bringing it to your lips as you kissed his knuckles, “I might be weak in this sense, but you always know how to make me feel stronger.”

“Too sappy, shut up,” You grinned as his cheeks began to darken. He’d always insult you if you flustered him like this. You lunged forward, hugging him as you straddled his warm lap.

“Love you too much to stop!” You giggled, and he groaned, then yelped. You pulled back, arms around his neck with raised eyebrows as you eyed the man. He didn’t yelp over nothing.

“You made me spill, you bitch,” His eyes were narrow with annoyance, and pursed your lips, slowly looking away from him.

“Ooh...” Then you looked down. By your leg around his own was the pillow you had cried into. Wine stained where you makeup had also done the same, but not too much. A couple drops were also on your leg. You glanced back up at him, “Wait,” you then took the couple drops on your finger, sticking it into your mouth all while making eye contact with him.

You could physically see himself holding back. His eyebrow was twitching, his teeth were clenched, and his hand was sneaking to your ass.

“Minx,” He muttered, and you shrugged, leaning it for kiss. He pulled back, shoving the glass of wine in your face, “We finish this, then we can play.”

To say the least, that glass was gone faster than should legally be possible.

[anathemafiction]

You were standing an arm's length away from him, like you always did whenever you were in public. Hadrian kept his eyes facing forward and told himself he didn't mind.

He wasn't some child needing constant attention. He knew how you felt about him - you showed it whenever you two were alone. And that's all that mattered.

But glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as you both set foot in the tavern's common hall, he can't help but feel the pull to throw his arm around your shoulders and hold you close to his side. But Hadrian knew you wouldn't like it. You would stiffen, and he'd feel like an idiot and-

He shakes his head. It did not bother him.

"So what would you be havin' handsome?" a clear bouncy voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up and sees a tavern girl with an apron in hand looking him up and down. As their eyes cross, she bluntly winks at him.

Feeling his ears burning, Hadrian coughs.

"I, uh," he looks at you and there is a deep frown on your face. Oh, Lord. "Just a beer. Do you want something?" he asks you in a strangled voice, trying to tell you with his eyes that he's not interested. Of course, not. How could he?

But you're not looking at him. Your eyes are on her. And the barmaid's eyes never leave Hadrian.

Oh God, indeed.

"That all, handsome?" she comes closer. "Are ya sure I can't get ya anything el-"

Before she can finish, Hadrian feels a hand grab onto his collar and he's pulled across the table. His lips crash against yours, your teeth clanging painfully together, and his eyes bulge as your hands grab his head firmly between them. One of your hands holds the back of his neck possessively, nails scratching his skin, and your lips work against him feverishly.

And then he feels your tongue sneaking into his mouth, and Hadrian stops thinking.

When you finally pull away, painting, and kiss him one last time on his jaw - was that teeth? - Hadrian's head is still swimming. You look sweetly at the maid, who's gaping at you. "He doesn't need anything else, thank you," you smile sharply. "You can go now."

Hadrian swallows, face bright red. He glances around and sees everyone staring at the pair of you, but it's your burning eyes that catch his attention. "Hadrian, are you alright?" you ask him, your voice soft and looking regretful. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I am so so-"

But he laughs quietly. "Alright?" he moves his chair across the floor and now, now he can throw his arm around your shoulders. "I'm fantastic, love."

His heart soars as you snuggle into him.

Alessa stood still, her face a perfect mask, as she observed you struggling with the fishing rod in your hands. Your left arm had reel all wrapped around it, and as you step to the side, your foot knocks the bucket aside and you nearly fall onto the water.

She sighs tiredly, but Alessa can't completely erase the fond smile on her lips. You looked cute, all flustered. It was rare to see you so. You were always so composed. Sometimes... Too composed.

Alessa frowns and pushes those pesky thoughts out of her mind.

"Are you in need of assistance, perhaps?" she says airily, as she approaches you. Not waiting for your answer, she begins unwrapping the reel from around you. Her deft fingers making quick work of the mess.

"Alessa," you breath out. "This is impossible!"

She smiles and tenderly takes the rod from your fingers. "You must hold it like this," she exemplifies smoothly, her movements practiced. She sends the bait into the water and steps back. Her whole being focused on the task. "And be careful not to pull too much, or the string might break."

You don't answer back, so she glances your way and sees you staring intensely at her. She frowns. "You must see what I do, otherwise you will never ho-"

You reach forward and grab her waist, and Alessa is pulled into you before your soft lips find hers. She freezes and lets the rod fall to the ground as your palms cup her cheeks and you kiss her tenderly, deeply, so lovingly. So openly. Her hands grab your shoulders, and the sun shines on her skin, and Alessa feels like flying.

You had always kissed her in the dark. Hidden away. She never thought it would feel this like this. To be bold.

When you break the kiss, your eyes boring into hers, she cannot hope to read all the emotions that swirl inside. "You are beautiful, Alessa," you tell her, and she can hear the sincerity in the words. "And I am a fool."

Before she can answer, you have her again. Kissing her senseless.

@leo-the-mediocre I think you made a mistake and submitted a post instead of sending an ask. I hope you don't mind if I took a screenshot instead. (◕▽◕✿) I hope you enjoy this scenario!

[wafflesetc]

All I want for Christmas is You- Chapter 3 (previously)

A/N: On-call room goodies. Candy canes. Pining. Jamie and Claire. You were warned. A huge amount of gratitude to @missclairebelle and @kkruml for taking the time to help fix this monster. XO. 

Happy Holidays everyone!

I felt the world swaying on its axis. My eyes lids filled with stars, his mouth hot on my neck.

In any other moment, I was as professional as they came around these parts. But James Fraser had a knack for sliding under my skin in the most maddening of ways. The way his blue eyes sparkled as he charmed his way with the nurses or kept those broad shoulders square as he delivered a speech to all the employees of the hospital- it frustrated me, made my blood boil. Never once did I allow myself to imagine this very moment. Or that Jamie Fraser could actually be mine.

“Claire,” He breathed lightly as he kissed the base of my neck. “I canna, we canna...”

I took his face between my hands and scanned his eyes searching for a hint of something, anything.

“What do you mean?” I kissed him softly, tracing his bottom lip with my tongue.

“Of all the times I have burned for ye to ask me to her bed, I never thought the day would come...”

“And now that it’s here?” I reached for the hem of his shirt as he pushed my body against the back of the door.

“I just want to make sure you are sure...”

I laughed at that and bit his neck. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He let out a husky, breathless chuckle that only ignited the fire deep in my belly more. “I watch you come through the hospital, flashing that smile with the nurses, the elderly patients, even that one female anesthesiologist… You’re a bloody charmer, Mr. Fraser.”

“And?” He smiled down at me with a devilish grin.

“And it made me jealous.” I pressed a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “But I have been too proud to admit it.”

“Mmmphm.” I heard the noise emerge from his throat and felt his hands cupping my jaw, his eyes searching my face for any sense of hesitation. We were drowning in the heat of the moment and it was either sink or swim.

“Do you want me?” I finally asked, carte blanche, it was now or never- no turning back.

“Yes,” Jamie moaned as his hands pushed my scrub top up. His thumbs drew circles on my hips. “Yes, I do want you.”

I pulled his shirt up, just above his torso as his hands suddenly took control and he rapidly stripped it off, flinging it on the tile floor behind us.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” I breathed scanning his bare body, “That’s definitely an 8 pack.”

“Fair’s fair.” He gawked at me. His hands were hot on my skin as my scrub top left my body and ended somewhere in the depths of the on-call room.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, I could sense the temperature rise in my cheeks. My sports bra was grey and I knew the panties I wore under my scrubs did not scream ‘I want to get laid.’

As if he could feel my embarrassment, he ran his hands down my arms, whispering something in Gaelic. Something I couldn’t understand.

“I want to see you.” His voice was reassuring and warm as he trailed kisses across the bottom of my neck.

I arched my back into the alignment of his body, still pinned against the back of the door. “Ah, Dhia.”

“Well, it’s not much to see, Jamie…” My voice was meek and quiet, barely audible in the already silent room. “But whatever it is, it’s yours- if you want it.”

His hands were warm as they slid up my back and under my sports bra.

“If I want it,” He scoffed, “Christ ye really are daft, are ye no’?”

I shook my head in dismay as he pushed the bra off my petite frame.

“Of course I want ye…” I felt a cold rush across my breasts as the cotton fabric ended somewhere in the vicinity of our feet.

I heard an audible gulp come from him as he took a step back, eyeing me from head to toe.

“Christ, Claire, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I took a step closer towards him, my hands on the waistband of his pants.  “I want to see you.”

Slowly I unbuttoned and pushed his trousers down to his ankles. He kicked them under the bunks, leaving the remnants of our encounter scattered throughout the on-call room.

Now it was my turn to take in his appearance- well-defined everywhere- I thought to myself in amusement. A smile must have formed on my face because I saw a flicker of eagerness cross his face.

“Come here.” He reached for my hand and pulled us towards the bottom bunk beds.  He sat on the edge of the mattress and grabbed my hips straightening my frame between his legs. “Ye still have yer pants on.”

“I kn-…” I started to untie the strings holding my scrubs up when I felt his hands grab my ass firmly.

“My god, ye have the roundest arse I’ve ever seen,” I laughed as his left hand finagled what was in my back pocket. “What’s that you have in there?”

“A candy cane, I was seeing some of the children in the PICU earlier…”

I heard a Scottish noise of amusement come from his chest as he reached in my pocket and took the piece of candy out. “I have half a mind to unwrap this and see what tastes better.”

“What might taste better” I smiled coyly, “We have to find out.”

I undid the strings and let the scrub bottoms fall to the floor. “Don’t make fun of my underwear- I didn’t think we’d be here…”

I heard the crinkling of the plastic as I shimmied my cotton panties down my legs.

Thank god I had half a mind to shave this morning.

I looked up bringing my face down to his level, sticking my mouth over the hooked portion of the candy.

“Mmmm.” I hummed, “Pepperminty.” I took one more lick of the sweet treat and then tilted Jamie’s face up towards mine.

I kissed him, slowly, delicately, tracing his bottom lip with my tongue.

“And the verdict is?”

“It tastes,” He mumbled between kisses. “Much better off yer lips.”

I took his mouth and claimed him with mine. The lines of my body molded to his and the weight of our bodies fell backwards onto the stiff mattress.

“You’re the one who still has clothing on.” I smirked with my hands on his waist.

In a rapid fury he discard the remnants of his boxers and we were laid bare before each other, our faces just inches apart. With great admiration, he took my face between his hands and kissed me once. His blue eyes searing into mine, waiting for a moment. Then he kissed me senseless- with an eagerness, ferocity, and longing I had only read about in books. 

Our legs were intertwined, my feet running up and down the back of his calves as his whispered terms of adoration in Gaelic.

His kisses trailed down my neck, to my chest all the way to my navel. He kissed with a delicate touch- as if I were a piece of fine China he was scared to shatter. We had only just begun, but I felt the most treasured I had in my entire life.

Rendered breathless, he cupped my face between his hands. “I canna wait but I dinna have…”

“It’s ok. I have an IUD.” I opened my eyes and saw a small sense of panic cross his face that grew into acceptance at our unsaid decision.

“Do it now,” I demanded not wanting to wait myself, “And don’t be gentle.”

Despite my admonition, he filled me gently, fulfilling a need I had not ever realized I had and leaving me completely at his mercy. Not that I cared or that it mattered, I was rendered helpless and was more than alright with it.

It was an odd sensation to be so full, to bare one’s soul to another and feel at home. My hands clawed at his back.

I arched my hips into his, urging him to move, just a little faster. The fire deep in my belly was raging and I wanted to feel the combustion I was close to.

He moved then, slow at first, our legs tangled together. Gradually, he picked up the pace and I closed my eyes, burrowing my head into the crook of his neck. I heard the soft ��thump’ of the metal bedframe as it hit the wall.

His breath became ragged and erratic as our hips moved in unison and he had me seeing stars, saying his name- a prayer against my lips.

I could feel his muscles contracting as he was starting to unravel and I came back down to realitiy. The grip on his intensity slowly slipping, leaving us nothing more than a collection of heartbeats and flesh mingling together.

“Ye taste so much better than that candy cane, Sassenach.” He held me tenderly to his chest, his voice as soft as snow falling outside the window.

“Mmmm.” I said, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

“Ye’re all I want for Christmas,” I thought I heard him mutter or it might have only been in my dreams.

When I woke up the next morning I was alone with an unopened candy cane next the pillow.

[hamlets-ghost-zaddy]

st. jude (the patron of lost causes)

Part 7/8

Donald Malarkey x Reader

There’s nothing so difficult to describe as happiness. There’s nothing so foreign to you.

It doesn’t settle to weigh forever on your shoulders, persistent and heavy until your feet drag, your shoulders hunch, your head bows; it’s not something to shoulder and manage as the curse of today. Happiness—happiness at seeing Don pass by on a troop transport, craning his head to keep you in his sights as long as possible; happiness when you find where the troop transport took him, or he finds you, and his warm breath mingles with yours—makes a whispering promise for tomorrow snake through your heart and mind.

And fuck, that scares you.

It scares you because this descriptionless feeling—something that is more of a lack: a lack of the ghosts in the corner of your eyes, a lack of grayness shading Don’s face—feels like trying to catch vapors in your palms. The vapors carry images—convents, and kisses, and stargazing outside of Eugene, Oregon—and you try to tattoo them into your memory because an artillery shell, or a stray bullet, or a grenade could shatter this hypothetical future. Something you’ve never before allowed yourself to believe in before could be yanked away before you could really realize what it is you have.

You’re in a German town just beyond the Rhine. You’re not sure of its name, but can’t bring yourself to care or ask.

Walking down the main street, leaving a Jeep and its driver behind, your eyes slide over a bicycle leaned against a house, wicker chairs arranged in front of a café, a storefront’s windows opened wide and allowing a curtain to flutter out. You think of the signs of life budding in Haguenau, you think how somehow more life dwelled there—there, in the in-between—than it did here, where the war didn’t exist. At the eye of the storm, the miracle of life seems an expected mundanity. You shoulder your medical bag, quickening your pace, and focus on your excuse for being here, your excuse to seek out Don: you have plasma for Eugene Roe.

“Why the long face, Nurse?” asks Frank Perconte, walking the opposite direction as you with another soldier, carrying at least a dozen eggs in his helmet. You cock an eyebrow, and he laughs, stopping short of you to smile until his eyes are twin crescents. You can’t help return the grin. It feels stale on your face, but you hope he doesn’t notice. “Germany not everything it’s cracked up to be?”

You wave a hand vaguely, as if encompassing the entirety of Germany. “Sleeping inside? Warm meals? Absolutely horrible; I’m miserable.”

“I can make you an omelet, that could lift your spirits” Frank offers.

The solider at his side, smile splintering his face to undermine his protest, squawks, “Hold on a second, Perco, why don’t I get an omelet—dear old Luz, your best friend?”

“Because,” Frank replies, drawing the word into five syllables. “You’re not my best friend when waste a perfectly good pack of cigarettes on a fraulein. Also Nurse Y/N took care of my ass.”

“Thank you for saying it like that,” you mutter. Frank’s friend howls with laughter, and you try to valiantly ignore how your face is heating, adding, “How is your, uh, ass doing anyway?”

Now its Frank’s turn to blush, and his friend is sent into another round of laughter, earning him a sharp jab in the ribs. “Sorry, sorry,” the friend manages around wheezes. He mimes wiping away tears. “I’ll try to be on by best behavior.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” mutters Frank, before waving an apologetic hand at his friend, as if dismissing his existence. “Don’t mind him; George Luz thinks he’s the company funny man.”

“What do you mean ‘thinks?’” protests George Luz.

“He’s saying he thinks your jokes smell as bad as your gas, Georgie,” replies a new voice and you don’t need to look to know who it is; your skin is prickling, goosebumps rising along your forearms, your body humming with the knowledge that he’s there, two feet away, and—

“You’d know, Malark,” George shoots back, good-naturedly.

Don Malarkey’s face pulls into a lopsided smirk, his eyes darting to you as if inviting you in a private joke, as his eyebrows drift upward. “Is there anything I can help with, Y/N?” he says, turning his back to George, signaling he’s clearly not worthy of a reply. George Luz playacts being wounded, groaning dramatically and swooning against Perconte.

Frank pushes him off, careful to protect his eggs.

Ignoring the two, you reply and gesture to your bag, “I have a delivery for Doc Roe.”

“He’ll be in the aid station. I think they set up in the pub; want me to take you there?” Don replies, a smile twitching his mouth up.

George has fallen into the dirt by now, and is bemoaning all of his friends betraying him.

“Yes, that’d be great, Sergeant,” you reply, before pausing and offering a hand to George. “Want a hand?”

Accepting it, and springing to his feet with absolutely no hefting on your part, George fixes you with a toothy grin. “Say, thanks, Nurse. Awfully nice of you, especially when all of my other so-called friends are a bunch of bas—uh, dumbies.” He shoots a glare at a chortling Frank. Don rolls his eyes to the cloudless sky overheard. “You know,” George continues, “Has anyone ever told you how angelic you look in that uniform, truly, I’m not just saying that—”

“Thank you, George,” you say, cutting him, completely confident he is just saying that. You shpot a grin to Don, before adding, “And can I please have my hand back?”

“Oh, of course, since you asked so sweetly,” George replies, patting your knuckles once before letting go with a wink and a blown kiss.

Leaving George to call out declarations of love to you—and Frank to shout about how he’s an idiot—you fall into step next to Don. You keep a respectful distance from him, though you have to dig your fingers into your trousers to keep from grabbing his hand—or grabbing his collar so you can drag his lips down to yours.

You shake your head. Don’s talking, and you have no idea what about. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was asking how you’ve been since I last, uh, saw you?” he repeats.

Since I last saw you, you turn over in your head. Last time, when Don left a tender bruise on your collarbone, just underneath your uniform. Or the time before that, when he fell asleep in your arms after kissing him senseless. Or the time before that, when he thoroughly investigated the more sensitive parts of your neck and ear. A blush properly brightens your face now.

“Oh, I’m well,” you reply. “The hospital has quieted a bit, and I’m not cold constantly.” You bump his shoulder, adding, lowly, “You look cleaner, less gray.”

“Less gray?” he repeats. He stops, blinking down at you, finding your eyes and studying them. You wonder if he notices that its light—not darkness—coloring your eyes, that some of the ghostly figures have been chased away, just as you see in his. He remembers himself, starting off again.

You nibble your lip, shivering with the heat of his eyes suddenly taken away. “Um, yeah,” you begin, unsure. “Less gray. You used to kind of bend under the weight of loss and war, and your skin looked like the color had been drained from it, but you look…” You pause to study him, realizing why you couldn’t define happiness before. You had tried to make it too grand-sweeping, too polarizing, but happiness isn’t a full-stop statement, but one negated with a ‘but.’ You say, “You’re a little less gray now. You’re sad, but perhaps…perhaps that’s okay. Because you remember, but you also chose to live.”

(You suddenly wonder if he noticed the bike in Haguenau, or the wicker chairs at the café in this town.)

When he doesn’t reply, only turning onto a side street, and away from the bustle, you rush to add: “I know that’s weird sounding; after working in the hospital for so long, I get these—”

He takes up your hands, gently leading you into the shadows cast by the midafternoon sun, cradling your knuckles to his mouth. He kisses each knuckle reverently, tenderly, and your breath catches: his eyes haven’t moved from your eyes. You know he’ll never articulate it—maybe because he doesn’t have the vocabulary to, the words haven’t been invented—but your words settle into his heart, define his existence, and make him feel wholly known.

You slide your hands from his, fingers curling gently around his jaw, and bring his mouth down to yours.

Happiness is indescribable; it exists in the absence of sadness, but it also cohabitates in your heart with nightmares about the soldiers who died under your care—under Don’s lendership—the boys who have no hypothetical futures dream about. No kisses or stargazing in Eugene, Oregon. As Don’s tongue pushes against your mouth, asking permission for entrance, you wonder if he kisses for all the men who will never be able to steal illicit kisses in shadows with their sweethearts.

You wonder if living—loving—is a memorial to them.

You’re in another German town; you haven’t bothered to learn its name, either.

Constance and you find Eugene Roe in a café, using the few remaining tables to set up his supplies, while the other company medic—you met him a few days ago, when Don finally remembered to stop kissing you and lead you to the last town’s aid station—Spina, sorts blankets on cots. “With any luck you won’t be needing those anymore,” Constance comments, pointing to the cots after handing Roe a stack of paperwork.

Doc Roe manages to work a smile onto his face. Constance looks elated. She’s been prattling on about wanting to get Doc Roe to smile—it’s all she has the mind to talk about during downtime since Haguenau, when she met him—and you suspect Constance has a small crush on him. Of course, she has a crush on nearly handsome face she sets eyes on. Still, you can’t resist your smile or barely-repressed snort.

Constance jabs her elbow into your rib, while she asks, “How are things, Eugene?”

“And you too, of course, Ralph,” you add, nodding to Spina. He touches the brim of his cap, mirroring your grin as his eyes rove between Doc’s small smile and Constance’s beaming one, equally as amused as you.

“Quite alright, thanks for asking,” Ralph says, continuing sorting blankets.

“Can’t complain, ma’am,” Roe manages. He mumbles more to the paperwork Constance handed him than to Constance herself.

Snickering, you draw Constance away from the two men and whisper, “I’m going to go find a certain sergeant. Think you can handle helping Roe with the paperwork?”

Constance tuts her tongue at allusion to Don, though her lips are stretching. “Of course,” she replies, just as low, “But just mind your time, huh? There’s only so many excuses I can give to Schroder before he begins to wonder why all your trips up to the front take over three hours.” She winks.

“Sure thing,” you reply, too pleased with the possibly of seeing Don in a matter of minutes to be abashed. “And try not to torment Roe too much. I think he’ll implode if you get him blushing too much.”

Both of you can’t help peeking over your shoulders at Roe. Sensing eyes on him, he glances up. The color gathering on his pale skin intensifies.

Constance turns a wicked grin back to you. “No promises,” she says. You shake her head, leaving her to her mischief, and hurry from the aid station. This German town isn’t particularly different from the last few—same quaint, modestly cheerful homes painted in a wash of yellows and reds and the occasional blue. Same window boxes spilling with early spring flowers. Same neatly kept shopfronts, the proprietors wearing the same masks of horror at being overrun by Americans. Strange to think such ordinary scenes could breed the rhetoric of the Third Reich.

Shaking yourself, imaging leaving those dark thoughts on the doorstep of the café, you wade into the milling soldiers, passing George Luz and Perconte assembling with a group of men. They all have their helmets and rifles, listening to an officer debrief them, and you hope whatever mission they are being sent on would be horribly boring. That the only enemy they’d find is another ferocious chicken to plunder eggs from, for Frank’s sake.

You find Don as he’s stepping out of the butcher, a cloth bundle in his hands. His smile is wide, boyish, and deeply pleased when he spies you. “Good morning, beautiful,” he greets too loudly, apparently having misplaced his senses.

“Hello Don; what’s got you shouting to high heavens?” you reply, stepping up to him, voice lower. “And the brass?”

An unspoken truth exists between you: if anyone—besides Constance, reliable and trustworthy and ‘I love love’ Constance—discovers how often a sergeant of the United States Airborne and an Army Nurse Corps nurse kiss on duty, you both would be demoted, court martialed, or shipped Stateside faster than you could shout, ‘Nuts!’ You aren’t keen to figure out which of the three options it would be.

Still, Don’s mood remains chipper. “I was hoping you’d show your pretty face around town today, because I have the morning off and I got us a small picnic.” He raises the clothe bundle in his hands in indication. “And here you are, so could I convince you to let me steal you away? I found a little meadow not far out of town.”

“‘Convincing,’” you reply, “Is hardly necessary.”

Don’s ‘small picnic’ includes cold cut ham, smoked cheese, and real bread.

It is forgotten after a few bites in favor of sitting in Don’s lap, counting the freckles on his hands, your fingers twined together. He’s leaning against a tree, arms around you, and your ear is to his chest to listen to the sound of his voice—low and rumbling as it pitches lower, higher, lower—as much as his words. “My Ma used to take my brother and I out on summer afternoons for picnics,” he offers. “She’s make these little pastry pies, filled with gravy and meat but use these crazy spices that make your hair stand on end and your nose run. She said they were new takes on Irish favorites.” He chuckles and you smile, loving how honeyed the sound is in his chest. His chest swells against your cheek as he catches his breath. “She also had fruit, and veggies, but I remember the pies the best. She said they were a good heat for summer heat.”

“She sounds like an amazing chef,” you offer.

“She really is,” Don agrees, one hand going to play in your hair. He winds your hair around and around his fingers. “And so smart. She had wisdom and advice for almost any situation. You know, my kid brother has this crazy temper—”

“Very Irish of him,” you interject.

He chuckles again. You would do or say anything to hear that sound for the rest of your life. “Yeah, very Irish. And he has the same red hair as me. He’s got everything going against him, really,” Don says. “But he’d get into these big scraps with some kids in the neighborhood. Ma would give him a real earful as she patched him up, and then she’d remind him to be like a duck.”

“A duck?” you repeat, unthreading one of your hands from his to run your thumb over the icon of St. Jude, shinier and more polished than when you last saw it.

“Yeah. Be calm on the surface, but paddle like hell underneath.”

You snort. “I like that.”

“Yeah, she did, too,” Don says, voice growing soft.

There’s a blanketing silence between you, your thumb releasing the icon and his fingers continuing to twirl your hair. Then, you offer, “I’d like to meet her someday.”

Don’s fingers still. His hand moves from your hair and to your chin, tilting your face. Your noses bump, your mouths are incredibly close, your eyes can look nowhere but into his. His eyes: dark brown earth, the color of nutrient-rich soil. Soil that can support growth, flourishment, life. Your breath catches in your throat as a wild thought, unbidden and unwanted but sweet and daringly formed, flashes through your mind.

“Do you mean it?” he asks.

I’ll survive this war.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

Don Malarkey will be the soil where I plant my new life.

He kisses you; kisses you sweeter and softer than he ever has before.

And Don Malarkey will plant his new life with me.

You mind the time as Constance warned, pulling regretfully away from Don when the chapel bell tolls out noon. Fingers threaded together, you and Don walk together to the edge of town before forcing your hands apart. As you near the café, and Constance waiting outside with a running Jeep and a bashful Eugene Roe, Frank Perconte runs past. You hear his words to Major Winters: “We found something, sir.”

(By the end of the day, you know you’ll never be able to forget this town’s name: Landsberg)

[sweetlullabysblog]

Hoseok Smut ;)

We didn’t meant any of this; I promise it was absolutely accidental…

But there I was, straddling his lap, kissing his jaw line and sinking my nails onto his shoulders because the grip he had on my ass was too strong. I started to grind on him to get some kind of release; I was starting to get anxious, needing him so bad, wanting him to take me already but we were just getting started.

 - ¿What do you want babe? - Hoseok asked while massaging my breasts through my shirt and looking straight at me with lust in his eyes.

- I want you… I need you right now. – I said in a low voice.

- ¿Are you sure? – He said a little bit insecure but giving a light squeeze to my butt.

- Yeah… I’ve been waiting a long time for this – I answered biting my lip.

- Me too… - He kissed my lips tenderly and caressed my back, he held me real close to him and started to move his hips to get some friction and I couldn’t help but let out a small moan that made him smile.

 He got me off of his lap and took my hand; he led me to his room and closed the door quickly.

 - We wouldn’t want the other members to see us, ¿right? – He gave me a playful wink and approached me slowly.

 He kissed me again maybe for the fourth hundred time today but this time the kiss was different, it was needy and desperate, I led my hands to the hem of his shirt and lift it up his head, I caressed his abs and laced my hands behind his neck deepening the kiss we were sharing. He unbuttoned my pants, took my shirt off and unclasped my bra real quickly, immediately going for my left breast, kissing and taking my nipple between his teeth, I moaned and the feeling and shut my eyes close to feel it all.

He slowly led us to his bed and lay me down on the mattress; he positioned himself in between my legs, we kissed a little bit more and he started to kiss his way to my stomach, he gave me one last look before asking me once more if I was sure.

- ¿Are you really sure? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to… - He said while caressing my skin right where my underwear was showing.

- Hoseok for fucks sakes, just take me already – I said desperately.

 He leaned to kiss my stomach and started to remove my pants, he took them out completely leaving me only on my panties, he took a moment to look at me and lick his lips, he instantly led his right hand to my core and rubbed my clit through the fabric.

 - Mmmm… so wet for me already –

-P…please H…Ho…seok, no teasing – I managed to said in between moans, this man wasn’t doing much but his simple touch was enough to get me going.

 He got up and took his grey sweatpants off and I got a good look of his erection wanting to be free, I got even more anxious, he got on top of me again and we both let out sighs of satisfaction once we felt each other a little bit better, he started to move his hips in circular motions and I felt his member growing bigger.

 - You have no Idea how much I’ve wanted to have you here beneath me, fucking you senseless, making you scream my name… God, I’ve been in love with you for a long time, be mine only mine please… - He said while rubbing our bodies together a little harder and faster making us both moan a lot.

- Yes… fuck yes I’ll only be yours H…Hoseok –

 He took my panties and his boxers off; he went to his night stand and opened the first drawer taking a condom, he slide it down quickly and aligned himself on my entrance, sinking down painfully slow and grunting while I was breathing hard. Once he was entirely inside of me he kissed me and I moved my hips signaling him to move, doing it hard and slow, and making me feel him completely.

 - F…Faster p…pplease – I moaned.

 Obeying my pleas, he started to thrust faster and deeper, I couldn’t help but moan and whimper underneath him, shivering, sinking my nails onto his arms.

 - Fuck… fuck fuck fuck – He groaned and stopped for a moment.  – Get on all fours for me babe, please –

 I rapidly did as I was told and gave him a great view of my ass, almost immediately he buried himself again within me and started to move deliciously good, forcing me to let out a few curse words because my orgasm was near.

 - Hhhoseok… mmore – I said while turning my head to watch him pound into me, he looked at me and smirked, thrusting faster.

- ¿More? ¿My baby girl wants more? – He said with the smirk still plastered on his face.

- ¡Y… YES! – I practically screamed.

 I felt one of his hand travel up my spine and caress my hip, while the other made its way to my clit, he started to do circular motions and it was enough to send me over the edge.

 - Ho…hoseok, I’m gonna… I’m… - I couldn’t utter a word, it was too much for me, I was trembling and breathing really hard.

- Go on babe, cum for me… - He said while rubbing my clit faster and thrusting deeper.

 I clenched my walls around his dick and I felt it twitch a little bit, I moved my hips in circles and he gripped my hips harder, hissing at my movements. I could hear his moans, the sound our skins made. I started to sharpen my senses, capturing the smell, the taste of the sweat that traveled down from my forehead to my lips, turning my head to watch him with his eyes closed and lips parted breathing hard as I was.

I came; I shut my eyes close and gripped the bed sheets turning my knuckles white, my heart beating real fast and Hoseok still moving himself inside of me.

His thrusts started to get sloppier and his grip was loosening a little bit, I moved so he could reach his high, and a few more thrusts and he came too. Hoseok pulled out and I fell on my stomach trying to catch my breath, he got up and got rid of the condom. I turned to face the ceiling; he laid beside trying to catch his breath as well.

 - That was… - He spoke up.

- Yeah… -

- I meant it, what I said about you being only mine, I meant it – He grabbed my chin to face him and smiled at me.

- I know, I meant it too, I love you Hobi – I said smiling too.

 We stared at each other for a little bit until a scream startled us.

 - ¡YOU GUYS! ¡THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE! – Taehyung screamed while laughing his ass off.

- ¡Hobiiiiii, mah men! – RM spoke up.

 I gasped and started to giggle, Hoseok looked at me and laughed as well, he got on top of me again and kissed me again.

 - Love you – He said firmly.

- I love you too Hobi – I said kissing him.