#i want them to have gold medal sex about it too. like. hold on do you see my vision

[t1erradelfuego]

god they make me so sick

[poppy-metal]

need need NEEEED to feel like coach patrick and i are a team so bad like really wanting to play the best you’ve ever played and win because hes the one who trained you and perfected your technique and you know he’s on the sidelines watching and believes in you ☹️☹️☹️ not a clue in your mind that part of him is only doing this as bait for tashi and art and not because he just really likes coaching you...!!!

wanting to make him proud when he’s holding your shoulders and bending down to look you in the eyes during a pep talk. telling you how easy it’ll be for you to crush the guy you’re playing against when you look nervous. having him ruffle your hair and hold your bags and running right to him once you’re off the court im actually going to be sick i need him immediately

no because it's a different kind of hurt - you'd thought you were a team. on eachothers side. take your feelings for him and the sex off the table, he's just a good coach, when he puts his mind to it. it's the feeling of not being alone, of having someone in your corner to turn to when you've hit that winning move. when you run to him after dropping your racket and you jump into his arms and he spins you around - you don't want to say it feels fatherly - not with the way you cum on his dick - but the support - the guidance of someone older than you. the elation of making someone else proud, of striving to continue to make them proud. it's addictive. it's heady.

nothing makes you happier than when you can see genuine pride in his eyes - and he has the kind of grin on his face that splits it - shows off his teeth - and his dimples and his cheeks crease - you feel like you've accomplished something truly marvelous. like you're doing something with your life that makes it worth living. it breathes life into your lungs. it's what drives the motion behind your swings to hit the ball. what's tingling in your fingers after every win. you don't care about the medals around your neck or the screams from other people. your eyes swivel to seek out patrick always, always, a dog seeking approval from it's owner, a worshipper looking to glow in their gods attention - eager and hungry.

when he holds you and crushes you to him so hard you feel your lungs squeeze and your ribs too, and you feel the movement in his chest as he laughs - that's what you live for. you want to bottle the feeling and sip from it everyday.

so when the events of your match against art happen - and you realize you were essentially a conduit for patrick to get closer to two people who are not you, it feels like your life force is ripped from your hands. sapped from your very being. a flower wilted.

and yet still, when you're back home - you feel that ache in your chest. that longing for tennis - that longing to hit a ball with a racket. and you hate patrick even more for not only making him fall in love with you, but with tennis itself, when it was never something just to be shared between the two of you. it was never an intimate or romantic connection. it was false.

when your phone pings with a text from him and it reads you don't have to like me to work with me and win. I want you dripping in gold. I'll see you tomorrow for drills.

you have to wonder if you're just a doll now. and if so, how do you become hollow like one? a machine with no feeling. you don't know how, but if you're to survive being around patrick and not breaking- you'll have to find out.

[torakowalski]

Swimmer Steve - Part 11

And we're back! Where have I been? No clue. Well I've been right here but my ability to make words has... not. So we're starting slow, easing into it and hoping they don't notice me creeping up on them.

(part one | part ten)

Steve's part of the Olympics lasts six days, then he turns up at Eddie's door, lays his three(!) medals down on Eddie's dresser, crawls into Eddie's bed and falls asleep for ten hours.

He wakes up, eats some fried chicken that Eddie went out to buy, then goes back to sleep for another four hours.

Eddie, usually never ever able to stay still, discovers that lying on his belly next to Steve, watching him snore softly is way more soothing than any of the herbal teas Wayne likes to press on him.

"Morning," Steve says, blinking sleepily at him at like, ten at night.

"Morning, doll," Eddie says. "Sleep well?"

Steve yawns. "Hm, kept dreaming I was at the Olympics." He blinks around himself, exageratedly. "Well, what do you know?"

He looks so sleepy and smug that there's nothing Eddie can do but scoot over and kiss him. Steve makes a happy noise and hooks an arm around Eddie's neck, pulling him closer.

Steve stripped down to just his boxers before he fell asleep the first time, so Eddie's got nothing but smooth, hot skin under his hands. He still mourns Steve's chest hair, but maybe Steve can grow it for a while now and Eddie will get to experience it, at last.

"Did I dream it, or did we have the best friend chicken ever, at some point?" Steve asks.

Eddie would be more offended that Steve's thinking about food while Eddie's making out with him, but the poor guy has been living the high protein, low carb training diet for way too long now.

"You didn't dream it, but it was only maybe the third best fried chicken I've had here."

Steve's eyes light up when he grins. "You've gotta take me sightseeing before we go home. I want to see everything you've seen and eat everything you've eaten."

"Then your wish shall be granted, good sir," Eddie promises.

"Yeah, talk nerd to me," Steve says and hauls Eddie into another kiss, which Eddie happily gives him until Steve bites his lip, pulls back, and says, "Hang on, I need to piss."

Eddie laughs, rolling off him and flopping backwards onto the bed. "That the kind of romantic way you speak to all the girls, Harrington?"

"No," Steve says. "But I don't feel like I've gotta pretend with you."

Well shit, Eddie thinks, as Steve climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. Who knew Steve was gonna be sincere?

He lies on his back, watching Steve's ass unashamedly as he makes his way to the bathroom. He leaves the door half ajar, while he's peeing, because first and foremost: jock.

"I'm gonna shower," Steve calls. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie feels a laugh punch out of his chest. Hell yes, he wants to join him, but he's pretty sure Steve's joking.

Then he remembers that, wait, Steve doesn't have to worry about the Olympics sex curse anymore. Maybe he does mean it. Eddie's half way to sitting up, when Steve pops back into the room.

"No?"

"... Can't tell if you're teasing me," Eddie admits.

Steve looks at him then looks over at the dressing table. "Remember what you said the first time we kissed?"

"Was it oh my god, am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, racking his brain to try to work out what it actually was.

Steve grins at him. "You said you'd shower with me, if I brought home a gold medal." He reaches over and picks up the one gold, sitting it between his two bronzes. He takes a second, seeming just to need to look at it, then holds it up. "I know it was for a relay so I only won like, a quarter of it. But does this count?"

Holy fuck, Steve does mean it. Eddie always gets a little hard when they make out, but now he's hard hard and it maybe robs him of his ability to breathe. Or to answer questions.

Steve grin starts to fade. "But totally no pressure," he says, hand curling tight around his medal. "Sorry. Stupid joke, or well, not a -"

Eddie rolls up onto his knees and holds his hands out demandingly. "Give me my prize, Harrington."

Still with that half-grin only, Steve's eyebrows draw together and he lifts up the medal like a question.

Eddie nods. He can breathe now, but it's coming fast, and he feels hot all over.

Steve steps forward and loops the ribbon around Eddie's neck, murmuring, "Congratulations," like Eddie really is winning a gold here. Let's be reasonable though, if this is going the way Eddie thinks it's going, he definitely is the one who's winning.

[your-divine-ribs]

Smile for the Camera

Words: 3.5k

You’re too shy to make a sex tape with your bf Van // he has an alternative idea // SMUT ♥️

CATB Imagines Main Masterlist

The first time Van brings up recording the two of you having sex your immediate reaction is to laugh out loud, incredulous. You're ridiculously critical of photos and you can't even stand hearing the sound of your own voice played back to you, so the thought of capturing actual video footage of you both stark-bollock naked in the throes of passion makes your blood run cold.

The thing is, Van's a natural performer. You swear he was born to do it. As soon as he's up on stage and has all eyes on him he comes alive. And even though he'll sometimes appear a little awkward in front of cameras for interviews he's quite happy to be the centre of attention and he's definitely not shy. Not like you. In fact he's a bloody exhibitionist and has bags of confidence... and he'll get his kit off at the drop of a hat.

He's also very persuasive...

Just two weeks after he initially broaches the subject of making a sex tape with you, Mary and Bernie drop off several large cardboard boxes full of Van's childhood possessions, products of their attic clear-out. Van's happy to seal the boxes up straight away and put them in the garage but you're loathe to add to all the junk already stacked in there and besides, you're curious.

"Come on, don't be lazy, we may as well sort through them now. We can probably chuck most of it, it's probably all junk anyway." You lift back the cardboard flap of one of the boxes to peer inside, grimacing when you catch sight of a pair of battered old football boots that look like they've been worn into the ground. "Yuck, you can sort this one. I don't wanna be poking around in your stinky old shoes."

"That's a little piece of history right there babe," Van says as he delves into the box and holds the boots up proudly. "Won me very first footy tournament at John Bright's with these. I were 'man of the match' for the final, scored five goals! I remember it now, my PE teacher was dead proud of me. He was the only teacher at school who didn't have me pegged as a drop-out."

You scrunch up your nose as he waves the boots in your face. "Yeah, well you're not keeping them, history or not. They've been sitting around in your mum's loft for over fifteen years and we're trying to de-clutter remember?"

Van ignores you, his eyes lighting up as he drops the boots on to the floor, his attention taken by something else in the recesses of the huge box.

"Here's the medal!" He cries out, holding up a shiny gold disc on a length of blue ribbon, his face glowing with boyish excitement. "Ahh man I miss those days, played every day after school until band practice took over. I was really good ya know, reckon I might've got scouted by United if I'd've carried on."

You resist rolling your eyes, giggling at his enthusiasm, admiring the youthful exuberance the memories are invoking in him. He always looks so cute when he's like this. You spot the curve of a football peeking out from another box and you lunge for it, tossing it over to Van. "Heads up!"

He looks shocked but reacts quickly, stretching up to head the ball. He catches it on its descent, dropping it down to his feet, kicking it up to pass it between each foot with some fancy footwork which is, admittedly, quite impressive.

"Hey look at that love, I've still got it!"

"Very impressive, maybe you did go into the wrong career!" You chuckle.

"You can laugh! Reckon I would've definitely been a footballer if I didn't go into music. That's what I always used to say, right from when I were this high." He grins, a hand held up to his chest to demonstrate.

You recall a daft conversation the two of you had a few weeks back when you were reminiscing about your teenage aspirations and you can't resist teasing your boyfriend. "Oh really? Didn't you also say you wanted to be a pornstar?"

Van’s smile widens at this as he shoots you a cheeky wink. "Yeah well... you gotta go where ya talents lie, eh? What d'ya reckon? Dontcha think I'd be a natural?" He wiggles his hips suggestively, thrusting his pelvis forward.

You're both laughing then and you reach for a dog-eared teddy bear, launching it at Van's head. He ducks just in time.

“What was that for?"

"You're such a twat!" You laugh, shaking your head.

The afternoon stretches on and by the time you're down to the last box you're a little dusty and dishevelled but having a great time uncovering memories from Van's past, from well-worn and much-loved baby toys to embarrassing family photos to poems he'd composed for first loves in the back of school exercise books.

"I'll go and make us a cuppa," you offer and Van nods as he opens up the last box, but the immediate frown on his face makes you pause. "What is it?"

"Ahh nothing, just think me mam's given us the wrong box. This looks like all her old stuff." He reaches in and pulls out a handful of paper-back books which he quickly drops back in and you turn to make for the kitchen but then Van calls your name, stopping you in your tracks.

You whirl around quickly to see him holding up a small silvery coloured item and you narrow your eyes, trying to discern what it is but then the penny drops and you groan out loud, your hands automatically flying up to cover your face. It's an old-fashioned camcorder.

"You're not filming me are you?" You whine, hiding behind your hands. "You'd better not be recording. Put it away!"

Van chooses not to listen to your pleading, just moving closer, big shit-eating grin on his face. "C'mon love, smile for the camera. Don't hide that pretty face from me!"

"Seriously Van, I really hate being filmed, you know I do!"

He carries on advancing on you, undeterred, smiling at the image displayed on the small fold out screen whilst you peek at him from between your fingers. "Don't be mardy, c'mon. It’s only a bit of fun... and it's for our eyes only."

Maybe you are overreacting. You lower your hands to reveal a fake glare, hands on your hips. "It had better be, I look like a total mess right now."

"No ya don't," he's quick to reply, eyes leaving the screen to properly look at you. "You look gorgeous like usual... stunning. You always take my breath away."

You giggle shyly at his compliment, your cheeks warming automatically. Even though you and Van have been together for years he still evokes this reaction in you, immediately taking you back to when he pursued you doggedly for a first date for weeks. You'd thought he was all talk back then, a proper player. You thought he just turned on the charm for effect, not really meaning it, but when he finally wore you down and you accepted his invitation to a pint in your local you realised that this was just his way. He wore his heart on his sleeve and he made no apologies for that. You loved him for it.

"That's it, just keep smiling like that... beautiful," he urges, eyes glowing with fondness and adoration, his free hand gesticulating like he's directing you.

"This is so embarrassing!" You laugh, hands instinctively reaching up to brush through your hair self-consciously. "What is it with having a camera shoved in your face that makes you forget how to function normally?"

"You get used to it," he tells you. "You just need to be confident." He chuckles cheekily. "C'mon, work it baby!"

You're really laughing now and you decide to let lose and have some fun. Like he says it's for your eyes only... and you don't even have to watch the video back. You catch your bottom lip in your teeth, fixing Van with your best sultry gaze, flicking your hair back over your shoulder. "How's this?"

"Gorgeous," he murmurs, seemingly mesmerised. "You gonna put on a show for me love?"

Your gut clenches at his words, a mixture of excitement and unexpected arousal. When he looks at you in that way with all that hunger it does something to you, it makes you eager to please. You let your eyes drop to the camera lens, hands moving down your body to cup your breasts, brushing lightly over your curves. Your nipples peak under the flimsy material of your t-shirt, the contact making you squirm.

"Fuck Y/N... you're so hot," Van whispers reverently, his mouth slightly agape. You watch as his tongue flicks out to moisten his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. His fingers flex on the screen as he angles it further down your body, taking all of you in. "Don't stop."

So you don't. Spurred on by the heady atmosphere that's descended on the room and the gleam of hunger in his eyes you let your hands travel further, gliding down over your hips as you sway them invitingly. Back up to grip the hem of your t-shirt as you raise it slowly, a teasing pace which Van follows with eager eyes. You can't believe what you're doing, playing up to the camera, half of you urging to let yourself go whilst the other half is still cringing. You just need to clear your mind, cast off your inhibitions along with your t-shirt, immerse yourself in the moment... but you can’t.

"Shit, sorry, I just can't do it," you mutter, letting your shirt fall back down to cover your hips, your cheeks glowing hotly. "I know you've been wanting to do something like this for ages but I just can't let myself go. 'M too bloody embarrassed. It's knowing the camera's there that does it."

You curse yourself internally, the embers of excitement swiftly extinguished as you see a flicker of disappoint cloud your boyfriend's features, but in typical Van style it doesn't linger. If you'd have blinked you'd have missed it.

"It's okay love, don't worry." He steps forwards until he's standing right in front of you. "I was only mucking around. Don't want you to do anything ya don't feel comfortable doing... but... hold on… I've just had an idea..." He pauses, a hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the camera out to you.

"What?" You ask cautiously, taking the camera. You know that look, you've seen it a million times before. Van usually wears it when he's trying to persuade you so do something that you're not sure of, but he just said...

"Just wanna try something, that's all," he says, interrupting your thoughts. "You trust me, don’t ya? Think you might like it..."

"Should I trust you?" You ask with a smirk. You're intrigued as he walks you back slowly until you feel the sofa hit the back of your legs. You'll be annoyed if Van wants to keep pushing his silly fantasy even though he knows you're not fully on board but it's really not like him to coerce you, and the fact that you're now holding the camera and therefore in control reassures you somewhat.

"Uh-huh," he murmurs, hands on your shoulders as he applies just enough pressure to show you that he wants you to sit. You comply, heart picking up a pace as you watch him sink down on to his knees on the floor, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Just sit back and relax," he smiles, hands brushing upwards along your outer thighs until he reaches your hips. "I know ya don't like the idea of being filmed, so why don't you film me instead?"

His hands slide inwards as he talks, fingers working on the button fly of your jeans, deftly unfastening them before you can even fully grasp on to what he's saying.

"But what do you... oh... oh right..." your brain finally catches up as Van starts tugging your jeans down your hips, your lacy underwear coming down with them.

They're at mid-thigh when he stops, looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes, full of hope again. "That's if ya want to..."

Shit, he has you wrapped around his little finger, he really does. Your gaze sinks down to his lips, those full pretty pink lips that are responsible for the most wickedly sinful things, and you find your resolve crumbling. If you're filming him from up here then you won't actually be on camera... well, part of you will be, but not your face. You're burning up at the thought of the parts of you that will be displayed, chanting a prayer of silent relief that you shaved your bikini line just that morning.

"I can't believe the shit you talk me into McCann," you grumble even though you're smiling, heart fluttering with excitement as you press 'record' and angle the little viewing screen downwards to watch Van settling in between your spread thighs, looking up at you like the frustratingly tempting devil that he is.

"Sorry baby," he purrs in that sweetly seductive drawl he uses when he's just about to fucking defile you. "I'll make it up to you... promise."

He's loving this, in his element under the camera's watchful gaze, looking up at you through the lens as he dips his head and licks a slow, ticklish stripe up your inner thigh.

"Shit," you breathe, every muscle in your body tensing in anticipation. You feel like you're watching a porno but the fact that it's Van down there and you're experiencing the sensations first hand just heightens everything.

He spends some time on your inner thighs... too long in your opinion... not that you're going to complain. He knows your body so well, how every calculated kiss will make you shiver, how every sharp nip of his teeth will make you hiss. You can already see the hickeys forming, small purplish bruises blooming like pretty violet flowers on your skin.

"Van," you breathe softly, your hips starting to shift impatiently as he gets closer to where you need him to be.

"What's up babe, d'ya want me to kiss ya here, hmm?" His breath fans over your burning skin, making you shudder.

You can barely get your words out, mumbling a quick "mhmmm" before a shaky whimper bubbles up from your throat, drenched in desperation. Fire rages in your cheeks as you realise how every little sound will likely be caught on film at this close range. That doesn't put you off though... it actually fires you up.

"Here?" He smirks up at the camera knowingly, lips just barely brushing your heat before he pulls away.

"Yeah, right there!" You blurt, resisting the urge to grab hold of his hair and buck your hips upwards, focusing instead on keeping your breathing steady, your palm feeling slick where you're gripping the camcorder. "Please..."

"Sweetheart, you don't need to beg."

His voice drips with honey just like the sweetness that's dripping between your thighs. You don't think you can take this teasing for another second but your prayers are answered as Van smiles up at the camera seductively before he buries his face between your legs and gets to work.

It's nothing short of heavenly. Your skin's littered with goosebumps, every little touch amplified, the tickle of his hair, the soft brush of his lips, the wet drag of his tongue as it pushes between your lips, parting your folds. When he flicks it over your clit for your first time you nearly hit the roof.

"That feel good?" He hums against your skin, circling your sweet spot with hot, wet strokes. You answer him with a ghastly moan that makes your skin crawl with humiliation but you can't help it, you're ready to fall apart on his tongue and he's only just getting started.

He can most likely tell you're already close by the trembling in your thighs and he immediately slows his pace to soft, teasing licks that have you whimpering, your body sinking further into the couch.

You can't take your eyes off the screen, your previous inhibitions swiftly falling away, the fact that you know that it's turning Van on so much just adding to your enjoyment. He's putting on the performance of his life down there, pulling all the tricks out of his arsenal, playing your body like a musical instrument that's singing sweetly for him with overwhelming pleasure. And far from it turning you off now, the thought that you're immortalising this moment in time just makes you even hotter.

"You taste so good... can't get enough of ya," he utters, pulling back so he can catch his breath, his fingers sliding through your folds, glistening with your wetness. He traces your entrance with a solitary finger before he pushes slowly inside, his lips returning to your clit to work their magic.

The sounds filling the room are filthy, your choked up moans, the wet sloppy sounds his tongue makes as he devours you, the lewd squelch of his finger pumping into you. You're so wet you can feel your slick dripping between your thighs and soaking into the fabric of the sofa. An errant thought flits through your mind about cleaning up the mess afterwards but it doesn't stick. You don't care. You're too far gone, surrendering to the bliss thrumming through your veins, fully submerged in it, drowning in it.

When you moan his name he gives it his all, his tongue flicking over your nub with perfect precision. A second finger slips inside to join the first and he thrusts them knuckle deep, curling them and twisting them to stroke your front wall in a way that makes you want to scream out loud.

"Oh my god..." you gasp. It makes your blood blaze, your back arching away from the chair as you push yourself further into his seeking mouth.

"C'mon baby, give it to me," he urges, groaning against your wetness, fingers pumping hard and fast and slick. "Come for me... I want it all."

You mewl as he pushes even deeper, fingers reaching a hidden spot that makes your body spasm. Your legs automatically go to clamp around his head but he shoots his hands out to push your thighs even further apart, opening you up for him.

You can barely catch your breath as you feel yourself unravelling, the very fabric of your being drenched in bliss, struggling to hold the camera steady as your whole body quakes. He purses his lips around your clit with a suckling motion and it's your final undoing.

"Ohhh FUCK!" You cry out as your climax tears through your body, an overwhelming rush of sensation that renders you senseless for a second, garbled profanities and whimpers falling from your lips. Van tenderly licks you through it, still not missing a beat, keyed up with determination to give you the best head of your life... either that or he's trying to kill you, you're not sure which. Your body goes taut and then suddenly slack, your head lolling back against the sofa as you gasp for breath and he finally breaks away, scattering a few soft kisses on your thighs as he draws back. He sits back on his haunches, slightly dazed but still grinning like the proverbial cat that got all the cream... and you guess he did... in more ways that one.

"Holy shit that was good," you pant, head falling forward, not even realising that you'd dropped the camcorder which lies discarded on the floor, temporarily forgotten.

"You... my love... are fucking unbelievable. Jesus, that was so hot!" He crawls up your body, planting kisses as he goes, your thighs, your hips, your belly as he rucks up your shirt, then your neck, your jaw and finally your lips where he kisses you deeply, the taste of you still on his tongue.

"Still can't believe we did that," you laugh softly as you break away and Van nuzzles into your neck, smiling against your skin. "I don't know if I'm gonna be able to watch it back though. Those sounds I was making..."

"That's the best bit!" Van interjects. "Don't think ya realise how hot yer sound when yer moaning and sighing and shit... almost had me coming in my pants I swear!"

You giggle at that, suddenly acutely aware that Van's not had his release yet, the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh insistently where he's leaning over you. Your head swirls with thoughts, eager for more now you've broken the boundaries, wondering how far you dare take this, what other exhilarating fantasies you can unlock. You grab for the collar of his shirt, drawing him back to your lips, kissing him long and hard before you pull back, looking him boldly in the eye.

"You ready for round two?" You ask, loving the way his eyes widen with shock and excitement as his jaw falls slack. "’Cause I reckon the sequel might be even dirtier..."

[castle-dominion]

Ok I started at 9, it is now 11, I have until 12.30 to finish 5x3 secret's safe with me

Someone is writing in their vic's blood? oh the vic is writing in her own blood

OH NO ALEXIS IS GOING TO COLLEGE that gold medal is so sweet & like yeah you don't have space & it is super annoying to move MR: Don't listen to his, darling. Everybody needs their stuff.

RC: Well, I lied. Monsters are real. They're the boys in her freshman dorm. MR: Oh, speaking of which, before Alexis leaves, don't you think you should have the, um…talk with her? RC: You mean the sex talk? Mother, I covered that ages ago. I learned so much. MR: I mean the you-and-Beckett sex talk. RC: Mother, Beckett and I ar-- [Martha puts up a hand.] MR: Save it, Richard. I knew the morning I walked in here and the poor girl was hiding in the cl– Out of the closet lol

Alexis is friends with lanie <3 KB: Lanie's gonna tell Esposito, Esposito can't keep his mouth shut with Ryan, and Ryan's gonna blow it out of proportion, and then Gates is gonna find out, and we won't be able to work together anymore.

I've got that box too! XD

LP: Hey that's your department

interesting wallet/purse

four thousand of her closest friends XD

Man looks like authentic nick that fraul? Are you german or smth? KB: And for that, she deserved to die? Joel Pratt: Yeah! RC: KB: JP: Wait. What?

So cute & domestic uwu

Ryan moments "love is everything-- did I just say that?"

LP: Castle? You’re not allowed to answer Beckett’s phone. Weird little doll... LP: Oooh, you are in trouble. RC: I’m not in trouble. *hangs up* I've already seen your stuff XD yeah y'all still need privacy even together also ppl have ears

I love love love this lady & her accent & no-nonsense matter & then I know this episode & I love it

RC: You may not have a warrant, but I got something better. Checkbook. [Castle holds his checkbook up.] Storage owner: Auctions are cash only, hotshot. RC: Oh, no. What are we gonna do? Is two grand enough? [Castle pulls out a money clip.] KB: What are you doing with two grand in your pocket? RC: I’m a best-selling author. Why wouldn’t I have two grand in my pocket?

For real? My mom loves those books!

Def want to clip this. Pretty boy, fast talking, all this crap. Also yeah poker player or not lol btw when you are bidding at auction, bid up on the stuff you don't want so that people spend their money on it & let them win & then buy all the stuff you want bc they can't afford it.

Fun transition lol

that's not the owing i mean

His STUFF will tell us who he is creepy doll, poor ryan. Ooh I miss climbing. Apparently esposito is a rock climber

esposito don't say it's castle's, say it was stuff the victim was bidding on

ryan leaning on his fist on connfusion at gates "yeah you already like me"

Cooing at the doll lmao very creepy indeed

suicide?

lmao castle is hilarious Mum suggested that there is smth inside the doll that gates was given

Beckett's coat is nice careful when taking drinks from a tray, it messes with the balance. captions for angelica: an-hell-ica RC: an-'ell-ica? Captions for angelica: an-hell-ica except the second time she said it, it was more like a silent h. Not a missing h, more like a french h. nice music btw

"His name was wendell? So he wasn't swedish or w/e?"

Castle's storage unit mimics alexis' moving

I'm rich, or richer (or richard) sad...

alexis loved you earlier hundreds of super hot girlfriends lol

"nothing" *so obvious* esposito watching ryan talk about the robbery report espt smiling at castle mentioning the climbing equipment

wait it's wendall & wendy? twin names smh

need to clip the breaking in scene esposito with the baseball bat lol

love his accent

this sketch man's forehead is huge

an old [romani] woman? lmao no harm will befall you? she got shot. but maybe she was meant to die & then the doll saved her

gates sounds pissed approaching him rn Oh uwu she likes him now GEMINI??? ok but you need to specify that it is fiction & while the characters are BASED on becks & castle, those two are not sleeping together, at least they were not when the book was written

BIG FOREHEAD GUY

nice sunglasses KB: Take your hand off your tool, Marco! KR+JE: *trying to hold back laughter* I should clip this, but it already has been clipped so I don't mind if I forget to

Ok but the lighting is interesting... it needs to be brighter in this room

Love their welding goggles, so cute I KNOW,, RYAN! But hey castle at least gets to have fun on a treasure hunt, like under the gun & 6x6.

Did they check wendell's apartment? Do they know where he lives? bc this man broke in to his apartment. ... & also admitted it to the cops

it is inanimate can't be laughing at you

These two are so close but they have been that close before, before they were together

Ryan & the crowbar <3

don't touch it becks, isn't it evidence?

AH: That’s what beautiful things do, my dear. Sounds like smth someone would say about pretty girls. KB: Except you created two new problems – your chauffeur and his sister – both of whom are now dead. Except the sister is not relevant but the other guy who broke in & the guy who was hired to buy the unit as accessory after the fact are

so you claim that you just took the opportunity? There just happened to be a crime that you could take advantage of?

Could be the doll. Or like what mum said, what's inside the doll

I hope someone else has clipped the "I so wish I could kiss you" handshake, it's so sweet RC: I think my hand’s getting a little sweaty. KB: I know. It’s kind of gross.

college cry cry cry cry also really nice room holy crap I like all the red, the colours are nice, the walls are nice, the room is great Well Ididn't know WHY you were upset AC: How can you be so smart and so clueless at the same time? RC: Practice? "Sorry, honey, but your mom, she’s in—" 5 miles is short af RC: And though I am there, if you need me here, here is where I’ll be. Do what? Give her an airplane?

what the heck was castle doing? in the elevator there? I could gif/clip that if I wanted but I don't

Ah! The teddybear backpack! I see how he made that connectin now.

r they in gates' office? w/o permission? uh, ?? GIRL MAYBE XRAY IT FIRST "SIR JUST BREATHE" CASTLE WHT THE FUCK "see" that coming?

Well there goes that headway with gates

Ok so I'm about two thirds of the way through the episode, just over 30m in. actually I'm closer to seven ninths of the way through, closer to three quarters than two thirds. I am also about two thirds of the way through my allotted time

Ryan is wearing another patterned shirt, I like it. I mean the first shirt was also patterned but not in this way. These two have been more plaid like.

"it does?" the book on prosthetic eyes! fun fact, your eye muscles still move your glass eye. Ooh the music (& btw I still love "the butler did it") He probably really was all torn up over the accident. But he should & could have brought closure. & he could have prevented their deaths but he didn't & that's the hard part for him, he feels guilt.

[Gates looks straight at Castle.] VG: Worthless bastard. RC: I’m sorry? VG: He took out their whole family.

RC: Well, I’ll give the climbing equipment to Javier, Ok so is he selling it to esposito or giving it? also it is mildly odd to hear ppl call him "HA-vee-ERRE" instead of "hav-YED" like with a tapped r. I always use two syllables. Well two & a half. Tho tbh when I first read the name written (I had only heard the nickname "javi" out loud before) my french ass thought "ha-vi-yay" (& I was surrounding it with english words so it was "yay" not "yé")

I watched this episode a few days after going to a funeral for a second cousin of mine. We went to a market type thing to kill some time between the burial & celebration & we got so many compliments on our clothes (the three kids had black shirts & ties with red-- actually no my little bro had a white shirt but also a black vest) & we just kind of said "yeah we just came from a funeral..." But on the other hand, it makes me realize that while I love getting compliments on my punk jeanjacket, I want to dress up more often. I have clothing, I want to wear it. Hey that's a good idea! I should invite my friends out to that swing dancing place! (... I still want to take my ex there even tho it has been four years...)

"shaking hands" uwu *leans on his fist in excitement* & then they shake hands again & it is so so so intimate

wow rly empty house

MR: Alexis’ moving out got me to thinking. And after many hours of soul searching, I have made a decision. Mom, speaking as martha: "I'm moving out"? RC: Have you now? MR: Yes. I have decided, out of the goodness of my heart, that I will continue to live here— RC: Rent-free. MR: Please don’t interrupt. I will continue to live here so that you, Richard… will never, ever be alone. RC: RC: You’d do that for me, Mother? MR: It’s a… parent’s sacrifice. & holds his face they are SO DARN CUTE

Yes! I'm done 10 minutes early! It didn't take me three hours! It only took 1.5! I'm back on track babey!

[peachycoreroo]

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

[unhealthyfanobsession]

If you’re still taking prompts:

“Keeping a secret from your best friend is difficult... but when that secret is that you're madly in love with her, it's downright impossible. At least that's what Cassian thought, until he was a little tipsy and sharing a sleeping bag with said best friend. (College, modern AU)”

With smut please?🧎🏾‍♀️🙏🏽👀🥺

Oh hey bestie! So I think maybe you had like after a college party in mind for this but I went a… different way. Also it’s only smut-adjacent because I think good smut requires a Drabble of its own I think I’m sorry. Hope you enjoy!!!

Camping.

Nesta had two weeks between the end of her internship and the beginning of her last year of college, and somehow, she let herself get dragged along on her sister’s annual camping trip.

Their whole friend group was weird and twisted around like Ivy vines with who was closest to who, who was related to who, who was dating who, who had slept with who’s father (looking at you MOR!), and Nesta tended to avoid the big group things.

But this was only Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and the real reason she was there… Cassian. Fucking Cassian dragging her off into the woods.

Nesta loved her sisters. She did. She wouldn’t spend time with them and pretend she didn’t hate their boyfriends if she didn’t love them. (Pretending not to hate Rhys and Lucien, for Nesta, pretty much required the energy of a full time job.)

She loved her sisters. But she was there for Cassian. Because she liked Cassian. Genuinely and entirely liked him. Nesta Archeron liked another human being. They’d been best friends since eighth grade when he tried to ask her out on the swing set and she elbowed him in the jaw.

Saying yes to that middle school date would’ve been the worst mistake of her life. Because then she’d have had this short drama filled relationship with Cassian and she wouldn’t have gotten to keep him. And she really loved that she got to keep him. Even if sometimes she wished he’d been her first kiss instead of Tomas.

Anyway, when he said he was going on this camping trip Nesta realized she had to go too. Because there was no way she was spending her free time somewhere that he wasn’t. He was her person. The person she wanted to spend her free time with.

“Pathetic,” Cassian grinned, plucking the pack right off of her back as if it weighed no more than a purse. As if she hadn’t been struggling under its weight for the past 4 kilometres.

“I agreed to camping. I didn’t realize a 7 hour hike was involved to get to the damn place.”

“Two hours at most, sweetheart.” Nesta scowled, pretending, as she always did, to hate his little endearments. “And all of the best spots require a hike. Otherwise they’re overcrowded.”

“Maybe overcrowded is a good thing. Maybe overcrowded means loud and safe instead of offering ourselves up to be a bear buffet.”

“I’ll protect you from any bears, I promise, Nes.”

Nesta glared. “You’re going to fight off a bear if it tries to eat me?”

“Of course I am,” Cassian nodded. “These muscles aren’t just for show.”

Nesta laughed. “How sad I’m going to lose my best friend on this trip. Don’t worry I’ll come up with something nice for the tombstone. “Here lies Cassian. Tried to fight a bear so his muscles would have a purpose.”

“I take it back, you can get eaten by the bear.”

“I’m going to shove you in front of the bear.”

Their water break had landed then both a few hundred feet behind Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel, so Cassian kept hold of her backpack as they moved, teasing her that he was still faster with two packs than she was with none.

When they arrived at the little clearing Nesta had to admit it was beautiful. Serene. A big patch of grass surrounded by trees with a stunning view over the mountains from a clearing just a few feet away.

“Worth the hike?” Cassian asked as he set up their tent. That was the deal. If Nesta was going to camp then he had to do all of the work. Because she didn’t know how to do it. Also he had to share his tent with her because seriously? Why would she own a tent? She wasn’t a damn mountain man.

“It is really pretty.”

“I told you you’d like camping, Nesta!” Feyre called out from over fifty feet away where Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta all banded together to force her and Rhys to put their tent. Far away from the other two. Nesta was so not sleeping on the ground AND listening to her little sister have sex all night.

“Cassian?” Consciousness pulled lightly through Cassian’s sleepy mind. “Cass? CASS!” He shot bolt upright, body instinctively turning to Nesta, looking her over, checking her for injuries or any other thing that might have her yelling his name into the pitch black tent.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Cassian laughed. It was probably 3am and she’d just woken him up, and still he was laughing. Man he had it bad.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He made a show of flipping around to face her even though he couldn’t really see her.

“I’m freezing.”

As his eyes adjusted, Cassian looked her over with a frown. She was bundled up in her sleeping bag, wearing his sweater… which he hadn’t given her, but he had discarded in between them before he went to sleep so that was fair game he guessed. It was far from the first time in over a decade of friendship that she’d stolen his sweater, but man… it still did something to him.

“Your sleeping bag isn’t made for below freezing temperatures, is it?”

Nesta stared at him. Blinked. “No. Why would it have to be? It’s August!”

“It’s colder up in the mountains,” Cassian explained. “Especially over night.”

“Great. I’ve been brought into the mountains to freeze to death and now Eris is going to win the gold medal for our year.”

Cassian laughed, “Well I can’t allow that. The horror.” This was probably a bad idea. No it was definitely a bad idea, but the words couldn’t be stopped from leaving his mouth once they popped into his mind. “Come share mine.”

Cassian half unzipped his sleeping bag and made a show of shuffling himself over.

“You’re too big.” She said.

“Thanks I work out,” Nesta glared at his cocky smirk. “Come on Nes, it’s this or letting Eris win the gold medal.”

Nesta huffed, but unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled over to his, her legs were cool as they tangled with his in the tight sleeping bag. Cassian pulled her in, one arm wrapping instinctively around her shoulders to pull her against his chest, before he zipped the sleeping bag up again after her.

This had been such a bad idea. But what could he do? Let her freeze?

Cassian told Nesta everything, so it was already difficult enough to be keeping a secret from his best friend... but when that secret was that he had been madly in love with her since middle school, the situation became impossible. And pulling her perfect body tight up against his and wrapping her in his arms, hands moving up and down her shoulders quickly to try and warm her up, was not helping the situation.

“Thanks,” Nesta murmured sleepily. “I’m already a lot more comfortable.”

Me too, Cassian thought but would never say.

“Hey Cass?” Nesta’s voice was teasing. “What do we do if you wake up with morning wood?”

Cassian chuckled into her hair, a little bit drunk on the familiar scent of rosehips and iron will.

“Then I guess we’ll finally have sex.” He deadpanned.

Nesta’s jaw dropped. Ok. Bad joke. “I’m not having sex with you for the first time in a tent Cassian!”

Now Cassian’s jaw dropped. That was her issue with his suggestion? “I… Nesta I was joking. But… the tent is the problem? The only problem?”

“Grow a pair!” Nesta batted at him with her hand, an impressive feat considering she was all but pinned between him and the sleeping bag. “I thought this was you finally making a move.”

Cassian stared down at her. It was pitch black, but even with just the shadowy outlines of her features, he could see her exact expression in his mind.

“I wouldn’t use you freezing as a ploy to make a move, Nesta.”

“And why not?” She humphed, “it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“It’s… coercive.”

“Do I look coerced to you, Cassian?” Nesta ran her foot up his bare calf and Cassian shuddered.

“I can’t have sex with you if you’re looking for a friends with benefits, Nes.” Nesta paused her movements. “I… fuck, our friendship means so much to me and I’m so afraid to fuck it up. And if we start having sex I won’t be able to handle it being just sex and you’ll start to resent me so we just… shouldn’t go there.”

Nesta’s arms wrapped around him now, struggling to span the full width of his chest. “And if it wasn’t just sex?”

“Please don’t fuck with me about this,” he whispered. Low and Ernest in a way he almost never was.

“What?”

“Dont joke about this if you’re playing around or I don’t… you have to know, Nes. You have to know how completely in love with you I am.”

“Yeah,” Nesta tucked her head under his chin. “I know. I’ve just been waiting for you to make a move.”

It was dark. Cassian could barely see her. But there, with his arms around his best friend in the world, sharing a sleeping bag to keep her warm, Cassian nudged her out of his chest and found her lips in the pitch black.

Why had he kept this secret for so long? Everything in the world was better when he was kissing his best friend.

[rocorambles]

Reassurance

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Spanking, Atsumu’s a jealous asshole

Summary: Atsumu annoying Sakusa isn’t anything new, but when the blond setter says something that hits a little too close to home, you’re there to reassure your dark haired lover and remind him that he’s the only one for you. 

Author’s Note: The original request was for reader to have a fwb relationship with Sakusa, but in the spirit of Valentine’s day and desire for slightly softer Sakusa content (although it’s still pretty rough sex OOPS), I have them officially dating in this story. 

Miya Atsumu is a thorn in Sakusa's side, a fact that doesn't surprise anyone on the MSBY Jackals. But usually there's a slight playfulness to their bickering, a taunting smirk thrown in to take off the razor sharp edges of their vicious words that Bokuto and Hinata nervously laugh at and that Meian rolls his eyes at before they all resume practice. 

Not today however and Bokuto grits his teeth as he holds Sakusa back with all his strength, a worried look in usually carefree eyes, as Hinata wraps his wiry arms around Atsumu and practically tackles the fiery setter to the floor, as Meian sternly shouts at both players to calm down, strategically placing himself between their thrashing bodies as they fight against their human restraints and bare their fangs at each other. 

The team adores you and how can Sakusa blame them when he himself fell head over heels for you in a way he never thought was possible? So he just fondly looks on as Bokuto and Hinata look at you with star-filled eyes and ignores the harmless subtle looks Meian sneaks at you when you appear at practices, matches, and team outings. It's harder to ignore Atsumu's blatant leering stares, but the blonde setter never makes an outright disrespectful move other than flirtatious comments here and there, so as irritating as it is, Sakusa doesn't say a word for the sake of the team. 

But today he had gone too far and although it wasn't the first time Atsumu had openly raved about how breathtakingly attractive you are in the team locker room whenever you posted a new picture on social media, it is the first time he has openly denounced your relationship and everyone freezes at the setter's scornful words when he questions what you see in Sakusa. 

Even the team airheads quiet down, but Atsumu continues prattling on about how he would treat you so much better than Sakusa, how you deserve more than some frigid germaphobe, seemingly unaware of the growing tension in the air, the cold fury in dark eyes as Sakusa stares him down. But then he looks Sakusa dead in the eyes, not a hint of a joke in his disdainful gaze, and all hell breaks loose as Sakusa lunges at his sneering teammate. 

Despite how aloof Sakusa comes off as, he’s not completely oblivious to his own reputation and how cold he comes off as to others. He sees the skepticism in other’s eyes when the two of you walk out and about. He hears the doubtful mutterings as people wonder if he’s even capable of being a caring boyfriend. And the worst part of it all is that they aren’t wrong. 

He is irritable. He isn’t friendly. He’s not a great communicator. And the thought of intimately touching anyone had always turned him off to the point where even he himself wondered if he was destined to be alone. Until he met you. 

Women are pretty enough. He can admit that, not a stranger to appreciatively looking at an attractive female who asks him for his signature after a game. But skin on skin contact with a stranger? Holding a conversation about meaningless small talk? Out of the question and dating wasn’t something he even remotely considered as he focused on volleyball and being part of the future Japan National Team that would bring the country its first volleyball gold medal. 

And then you had swung into his life out of nowhere, turning his world and opinions upside down and for the first time he found himself wanting to get to know you better, talk with you. 

It hadn’t been easy, figuring out how to make a relationship work and in his defense, you’re his first girlfriend. But he grimaces when he looks back at the arguments the two of you used to have, the tears in your eyes when you asked him if he even cared about you, were you so disgusting that he couldn’t even bear touching you, the hurt in your eyes when he chose to stay silent instead of tell you how he really feels. And he groans when he remembers how his own damned pride had refused to budge, refused to allow himself to be vulnerable to you, refused to meet you in the middle. 

But when you had come to him, defeated, a slump in your shoulders as you asked him if he wanted to just end things, he had clawed and torn his pride to shreds, love and fear of losing you overcoming his constraints and the two of you began anew, communicating and working together to create a joint journey. It’s an amazing relationship despite the slight spats the two of you still sometimes have, but that doesn’t mean doubt and insecurity don’t brush the edges of his mind every now and then when he feels like he’s failed you as a partner. 

Damn Atsumu and his ability to stick his claws where it really hurts. 

Needless to say, both Atsumu and him are promptly kicked out of the gym after both receiving an earful from Meian about their unprofessional behavior and an affectionate but stern slap to both their heads as their captain orders them to go cool down and start practice on a fresh new page tomorrow. 

And he knows he should take the wise advice, should walk around, maybe jog, let the fresh air calm the turbulent storm inside of him calm before he returns to you, but doubt and uncertainty drag him to your front door and before he can even register what’s happening, he’s pounding relentlessly on the wood until you open it up for him and stare at him with surprised wide doe eyes. 

“Kiyoomi? You’re really early. I haven’t even started prepping for dinner yet-”

Your words falter as you’re brusquely pushed against the wall of your foyer, the front door slamming shut behind your lover and you yelp when lips come crashing against yours, almost painfully so. Bewildered you almost have half a mind to shove him off and have him explain what’s going on, but then he’s pulling away himself, calloused hands clutching the fabric of your shirt tightly, and your chest tightens at the distraught desperation in normally calm eyes. 

“Kiyoomi? Is everything okay?” 

You moan as he kisses you once again, more tenderly than before, but passionate enough that you’re gasping for breath when he finally pulls away and you melt into his tight embrace as strong arms wrap around you and hold you tight to him. 

“I just need you. Now.”

And how could you possibly deny that intense stare as dark eyes pin you down? 

Intimacy with Sakusa is usually premeditated, process-oriented, starting with a thorough cleanse in the shower and both of you neatly folding and piling your clothes safely in a corner before falling into bed with each other. Nothing like this and your heart races as you’re being dragged through the house and literally tossed onto the bed with so much impact you bounce back, only to be held still once more as Sakusa’s hands scramble to remove your clothing, almost tearing your outfit in the process as he haphazardly tosses them somewhere to the side. 

You want to tell him he can relax, that you’re not going anywhere, but before you can soothe him you squeal as you’re pressed against the bedsheets, a mouth hungrily kissing and sucking dark bruising marks all over your neck, your collarbone, body writhing as two hands cover your breasts, kneading and rolling your nipples between dexterous fingers. And suddenly you don’t want him to take it down a notch after all, your hips arching up and insistently rubbing against him in a desperate plea for more that he’s quick to answer by grinding his own groin down against you. 

It’s desperate, pathetic, two grown adults humping each other like animals, but neither of you can get enough of it and you’re embarrassingly close to cumming just like that, lewd moans filling the air as you succumb to the combined assault of his body, mouth, and hands. But you indignantly whine when he abruptly pulls away, shocking you back to attention when the cold air pierces you without his body covering yours. And Sakusa smirks at the way your whining turns into a yelp as he easily drags you to the edge of the bed by your ankles until your legs dangle off the mattress, a glint in his eyes when he sees how you nervously swallow at the sight of him kneeling between your legs, his fingers teasingly positioned at your inner thighs. 

Sakusa has talented hands, a fact that’s well known to anyone who’s a part of the Japanese Volleyball Association, but you wonder if they could ever imagine just how much more multifaceted his gift truly is and you let out a high-pitched keen as he glides two fingers inside of you, twisting his notoriously flexible wrists in a way that instantly has you seeing stars as he reaches and drags against places inside of you that you never even knew existed. You’re dripping and you wince at the lewd slick sounds you hear as he relentlessly explores and ruins you, shyly biting your lip when you vaguely think about how Sakusa abhors the mess of sex, and you make to gently push him away from you, reassuring him that he doesn’t need to go through with this. 

But you startle at the animalistic snarl directed at you, unable to do anything else except slump back down on the rumpled sheets, desperately digging your nails into the fabric surrounding you when he adds a third finger and increases his pace, twisting and turning, plunging even deeper inside of you. It’s overwhelming and you know you’re dangerously close to the edge already, head thrashing side to side as little mewls and whimpers slip past your lips, but then your back is arching, mouth gaping wide open as lips wrap around your clit and you scream as they suck on the engorged bud, convulsing and gushing even more as you dive headfirst into your first orgasm of the night. 

Your body is still shaking, eyes still in the back of your head, but you whimper, trying frantically to ground yourself as a hand firmly grasps your chin and urges you to gaze into dark eyes. 

“Tell me how good that felt.” 

“So good, Kiyoomi. So so good.” 

Your voice is slurred, mouth thick and heavy with exhaustion, but your word are good enough for now and you weakly cry as you’re suddenly being turned over, forced to slump down onto your stomach and chest, arms splayed out in front of you as your face rests on the bed, shaky legs barely holding your lower body up as you’re now forced to stand and bend over the edge of your bed. 

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep this position up, but arousal churns inside of you once more when you take a second to realize the position you’re in, ass and glistening pussy on full display for your boyfriend, reduced to nothing but a pair of holes as you bend over and present like a slut. And you whimper, ass automatically pressing back and shaking in want as hands grab onto your hips and something hard grinds against you. 

Any other time you’d be embarrassed to display such wanton behavior in front of your more reserved lover, but it seems like Sakusa is just as impatient as you and you claw at the sheets, grappling for purchase when he slams balls deep inside of you in one swift motion. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, not that you need much assistance considering how drenched your pussy already is, and you wail as he starts up a brutal pace, fingers digging into your skin as he holds you still while his hips thrust back and forth.

The pleasure is mind numbing and you can feel the sheets underneath you begin to soak with your drool as your jaw remains slack. But you need more and one of your hands slips down between your legs, searching for the little bud at the apex of your thighs, only to be briskly slapped away and you turn your head to complain, only to collapse back down and scream in the sheets as Sakusa swiftly replaces your wandering digits, rubbing and circling your clit. 

Your legs are trembling, stomach tightening as something hot coils and slithers inside of you, body tensing as arousal builds up to a crescendo inside of you, the lewd sounds of Sakusa’s balls slapping against your ass with every thrust echoing throughout. But as you teeter totter on the edge once again, you’re dragged back to the present when a hand sharply smacks your ass. 

“Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You, Kiyoomi! You!”

“Can anyone else make you feel this way?”

You can barely register the words, struggling to make sense of the questions he’s suddenly pouncing on you, desperate for release and being used. But you’re silent for too long and you howl as you’re punished with two more harsh smacks. 

“Answer me.” 

“NO! No one except you. Kiyoomi, please, please, please, please…”

You’re babbling at this point, incoherent wanton ravings of more, please, and Kiyoomi drowning the air, and you think you might start sobbing in pain and denial if he doesn’t give you what you want, willing to degrade and lower yourself to pleading and begging. But Sakusa takes mercy on you, satisfied with your answers, and you gratefully begin to loudly moan again as he chases his own end, dragging you along with him. And all it takes is a few more stuttered thrusts and more coaxing of your clit to have you falling apart underneath him once again, and the clenching and convulsing of your tight soft walls has him tumbling down after you, painting your insides white. 

You really do begin to collapse to the ground this time, trembling legs unable to stand anymore, but strong arms are there to catch you and your body goes limp in relief as you’re gently laid fully onto the bed and pressed against a comforting warm hold as Sakusa lays beside you, letting you nestle further into him and tuck your head under his chin in a way that makes you feel safe and loved. 

It’s a few moments before you can even begin to reassemble yourself, but when you do, it’s your turn to nudge a handsome face into making eye contact with you and you gently pepper Sakusa’s face with soft butterfly kisses as you urge him to finally explain what all that was about, reassuring the guilty and embarrassed countenance that it’s fine, both of you are fine, and everything is going to be fine, no matter what he says. 

You listen attentively, stroking long wavy locks as he hesitantly tells you about the incident in details, scowling and holding your lover even more fiercely to yourself when he repeats Atsumu’s vicious words, murmuring reassurances to him about how you only have eyes for him and even if you ever did leave him (you wince when he glares and bodily wraps around you like a serpent), it sure as hell wouldn’t be for a snot-nosed arrogant prick like Miya Atsumu. 

He loosens his grip on you, appeased by the way you affectionately drown him in kisses and nuzzles as he continues on to recount the rest of the day’s events, but he stares askance at you when you burst into laughter as he tells you about the fight that had almost broken out, that he had almost started, peering at you questioningly and unamused, unsure what you could possibly find so funny about the situation or his atrocious handling of the matter. 

And then he’s full on glaring at you as you relentlessly tease him for his childish impassioned reaction to Atsumu’s bitter words, mockingly cooing at him and fluttering your lashes as you call him your big strong hero, breaking into disbelieving cackles every once in a while when you imagine your mature, level headed lover trying to get into a fist fight over some silly words a stupid brat had said. 

But you’re not laughing when you’re suddenly being pinned on your back again, a surprised yelp forced from you as Sakusa sharply nips your earlobe before irritatedly staring you down. 

“Clearly I didn’t work you over well enough if you have enough energy to laugh and make a fool out of me. Let’s change that, shall we?”

[rpd-rookie]

The One Who Runs Away, The One Who Runs Back (Leon S. Kennedy x Reader)

Author’s note: This is a sequel to “A PAST WITH HER, A FUTURE WITH YOU” and the end of my three-parts fan fiction "I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY HEART" I decided to write after so many of you asked for it. Sorry it took so long but I was navigating from one fandom to another. (BTW, if there are any Devil May Cry fans up here, you can read my DMC fan fictions here) PS: Even if I said it before, I have no hate whatsoever towards Ada or Aeon.

Tagged: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Post-Break up, Sexual Content 

Part 1 / Part 2

***

Do you remember? We started this story by quoting some sitcom character that was clueless about love. Well, here’s a suggestion. Why not ending it by quoting someone who knew a little more on such matter.

William Shakespeare - you know that English dude expert on tragic ‘drink this poison, stab yourself’ kind of love - apparently once said ‘Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck’. I say ‘apparently’ cause, even though I have a master in English lit, this quote is from the internet, and also … who knows what the guy truly said?

But it’s the quote that’s important. Not the author. The quote it’s important because it sums up perfectly how this story is gonna end. However, before starting, let me tell you this quote is going to be the only Shakespeare-worthy sentence in this final chapter. You’ve been warned.

Love runs away from those chasing her.          Well, this part was definitely written for someone like Ada Wong. Owner of countless gold medals and possibly a world record at this point, that woman is basically the Usain Bolt of the ‘Running from Leon S. Kennedy’ competition. Unchallenged winner since the creation of this sultry version of cat and mouse game, it’s better not to think about the number of times she successfully ran away from her favourite agent.  But this year, this formidable titleholder in a gorgeous red dress will have to face her Nemesis in the championship. You. Though the comparison to the hideous bio-organic killing machine might not be very complimentary to you but you get the idea.  This year you enter the Kennedy Olympics. And this year you run like Sonic the Hedgehog and you win the damn competition (screw you Usain Bold!). And you do this with your head high and without an ounce of regret. Ignore all the texts and flowers Leon might send on your track Mario Kart style. His gifts are not as slippery as banana peels and they can easily be dodged, I promise. Well, most of the time, when you’re not lying on your bed in the middle of the night crying and sobbing while reading his messages or playing his voice in your voicemail again and again until you’re nothing more but a giant mess with puffy red eyes drowning in a puddle of your own tears.        Screw those messages too! And screw his broken yet terribly sexy voice as well!

Being a man of word, Leon kept his promise. And for months you kept on running peacefully, marathoning away from this past relationship that had destroyed you like no other before while tranquilly fixing your broken heart on the way. That run was a good cardio.

But sometimes, cardio is not enough, and even just the small sight of an overpriced whisky bottle or the smell of Leon’s perfume on some guy’s clothes is enough to reopen your wounds.           And when it happens, you always do the same thing, you break the damn bottle - and run cause damn! it’s expensive! -  or you tell the guy his perfume smells like cheap cologne and that he should definitely change it, which is an improvement on your past destructive behaviour, since there was a time shortly after the break up when you would have simply dragged the guy to your place to let him fuck you senseless while imagining he was Leon. All that just for the illusion to feel him again and for the sake to kick him out the next morning, screaming like a hysterical psycho.

So imagine, for a small second, the wave of intense feelings surging out of your healing heart when, in the middle of a cafe, you hear some dude sitting behind you ordering Leon’s favourite whisky while wearing the same bloody perfume. “It’s got to be relentless persecution at that point!” You sigh, already annoyed, closing your book more violently than intended. Hope you’re ready, stranger! Because you’re not in the mood to deal with this right now.            You turn around with a fake smile that reflects perfectly your irritation, ready to give him hell, your sharpest riposte already burning your tongue. After all, he deserves it and you can’t help it.         But when you meet familiar – and freaking gorgeous - baby blue eyes you freeze and stare, suddenly confused and lost and refusing to believe that in spite of the intense running, love just jumped at your neck after all and it was sitting there, taking the shape of Leon S(tupid) Kennedy.

You should have stood up and left, run for your life, run for your heart. And yet, you didn’t.    You stayed there staring at him looking at you, allowing all your memories, the good ones and the bad ones, all your buried feelings to come back from the dead, embracing them as if you had missed them, which, let’s be honest, you probably had.            You tried to scream to yourself “Come on, Y/N! Shake a leg!” but it seemed that what you brain understood was something like “Cum on him! Open your legs!” as a couple of blurry hours later, you were on Leon’s bed, legs wide open, screaming his name and begging him not to stop his amazing thrusts.

Six months, you ran for six months … Well, looks like the run ends here and now. After a minute-long deep stare, an afternoon of amazing sex and two hours long of something blurry in between.

“I missed you.” And there you were! The moment all couples that broke up have after one of them (in this case Leon with the infamous ‘I missed you line’) starts to believe they miraculously rekindled their love. The fatal post-coital cuddling session that you don’t know how to react to, as you think of all the possibilities before you.      Possibility Number 1) You tell Leon you missed him too and cuddle, enjoying that embrace you secretly yearned for months. But that includes forgetting what he has done or pretending that nothing happened.     Possibility Number 2) You push him away, get dressed, leave again and act as if this afternoon never happened. But if Leon doesn’t remind you of it, the ache between your legs will, that’s for sure!   Possibility Number 3) You jump him again until you sore even more and hope that you’ll be able to leave afterwards.         Frankly, all possibilities suck because, in all cases, it seems like you lose. Since,       with Possibility Number 1) you lose the run forever, with Possibility Number 2) you lose him again and with Possibility Number 3) well it’s result 1 or 2 + your body aching like crazy for days. I suck at math but no need to be Einstein to know the result of this calculation looks unpleasant.    So what do you choose?

You see a triangular dice rolling in your head, showing a never-ending succession of 1, 2 and 3 that doesn’t make any sense and that confuse you even more than you already are. 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 3, 2 ! Oh for fuck’s sake!

You grimace, angry and pissed at Leon and probably even more at yourself, and finally leaves his bed and his strong warm arms, feeling the tears furiously forming in your eyes. “I can’t” You can’t look at him in the eyes. You don’t want to see his confusion, don’t want to see his pain as he witnesses all his hopes shatter to pieces.         “ What do you mean?” You can hear the sheets crease behind you, alerting you of Leon’s agitation, so you hurry and pick up all your clothes scattered in his room. You must leave, now. 2! 2 it is!  “This! All This! This afternoon never happened.” You tell him, putting on your clothes with sudden clumsy and trembling hands, not caring if your bra is correctly hooked or if you put your shirt on back to front. Your heart. You have to think of your poor heart first.          “Hey, hey, hey.” You feel Leon’s hand softly grabbing your arms and you let go of whatever you were holding right now. His voice is sweet and trying to be comforting. Don’t look at him Y/N! Don’t look at him! “Look at me.” You do. Damn it! And you see his gorgeous blue eyes staring at you, studying your flustered face and the tears slowly drowning your (colour) look. You missed those eyes. You missed them so.damn.much ! As much as you missed his hands cupping your face and his thumbs wiping up your tears. God! How many tears those thumbs have missed recently. “It’s alright.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But there is this voice screaming in your head and very clearly this time. A voice shouting, forcing you to remember that night, that awful nightmarish night, the one when you felt your heart break and your dreams turn to ashes. All that because of him and his obsession for her.

“No, it’s not alright, Leon.” You shake your head and miraculously manage to take a small step back. You never thought you could. But you had to. You can’t stay close to him. You can’t let him touch you, feel you. Not if you want to run away. And you have to run away. Like her! Like Ada. Ada! “I told you. For as long as you have feelings for Ada, I can’t … we can’t…”     “Please don’t talk about her.” He begs and rubs his hand over his face. Is he trying to chase her away from his mind? Is she still in here? Please, let her not be in here.    “But she’s the reason we’re in this situation now. She’s the reason why we’re in this mess.” You insist only for the sake to see his reaction when you mention Ada, to see if she’s still under his skin, somewhere. “Ada is not the reason. I am!” Leon corrects you, a finger directed at his heavy chest as he is putting the full blame on himself for the first time since that night. “I am the one who went after Ada when I shouldn’t have! I am the reason why we broke up! I am the reason why we are so miserable!”         “But I was fine!” You shouted back in an attempt to show him he was wrong refusing to listen to that part of you who knew he was completely right. You were miserable without him. “I was doing fine until you came back and fucked everything up! I was healing goddamnit!”             You felt new tears rolling along your red cheeks and quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand that felt so callous and rough in comparison to Leon’s gentle touch. “You can’t just jump back into my life like this and expect me to forget!”

Leon nods, agreeing with you in a certain way. But the truth is, he doesn’t want you to forget. He doesn’t expect you to erase his mistake. He just wants you to forgive him … No, he just wants you to come back to him. Period. And that’s got to be what you want to. It has to!   “So why did you have sex with me, huh?” He finally asks even though he already knows your answer. “Tell me!” You’re not the kind of person who has meaningless sex, not the kind of person who worships one’s body with divine kisses and devoted caresses if they mean nothing. “Why did you have sex with me?” And yet the answer he wishes to hear doesn’t come out. “For fuck’s sake Y/N! Answer me! Why?” He shouts making you shiver and cry even more.    “Because I LOVE YOU!” You finally scream. And it hurts. It hurts but it feels good too. Like a weight lifted off your chest. “Because I missed you too! Because those months without you have been terrible! Because I don’t know how to handle even just the thought of you or the sound of your voice in my voicemail. Because each time I see something that makes me think of you, I’m a mess and I do things that normal me would never do! You fucked me up, Leon! You fucked me up but I love you! And I hate to love you!” You grunt in pain and relief, enraged but happy that you finally let everything out. And Leon listens in silence, frozen by your powerful honest confession. But he doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to say. Part of him is overjoyed, ecstatic that you still love him but there is another part that just feels terrible, sorry for the pain your love for him caused you even in his absence.   “But you see—“ You continue “That’s the problem in our relationship, Leon! I love you in ways that are so intense, that go beyond sanity. And you love me by half.”    You see him crumple, his horrified face looking suddenly very pale as if he had just heard some dreadful news. Is that really how you feel? Is that how you see his love for you? Is that what he has made you believe?         “Goodbye Leon.”

With the full intention to leave Leon’s place for good and never come back, you grab you bag on your way out of the bedroom while carelessly shoving your underwear inside of it since you forgot to put them on in the midst of panic and precipitation. Get out of here, Y/N! Now! A reasonable voice encourages you. Listen to me!    But this not what Leon wants.

“I never loved you by half.” He declares and you abruptly stop, asking God if he’s some kind of sadist that loves seeing you in pain from the comfort of his divine sofa somewhere in heaven. “Never.” But it’s not God and his sadism that makes you turn around. It’s you, and your masochist love for that blue-eyed man before you.     “I don’t believe you” Your voice almost doesn’t leave your throat as you try not to sob.           “But it’s the truth.” He says with a calm soothing voice as he slowly approaches you. “I never imagined my future with Ada. I never wished to grow old with her or build a home with her.” You want to tell Leon to stop talking, to stay where he is but your body doesn’t seem to respond. And when you feel him grabbing your hands in his and the comforting warmth that goes with that simple touch, you know that leaving is now an almost impossible task. “Yes. I admit it. My feelings for her were real.” Even when his honesty hurts you, you don’t know how to leave anymore. “But they were nothing in comparison to what I feel for you.”     You try to let go, pulling your hands away from his loving grip but he holds you back. And you’re not strong enough. Or maybe, you just don’t want to be strong. Everything is so confusing. Everything is tearing you apart.     “But they’re still here, aren’t they?” You question, hoping his answer might give you a clue, might give you the strength to make the correct decision. Do you leave? Or do you stay? “And they’ll keep coming back each she goes back into your life. You can’t let go of her.”    “You’re maybe right.” His words hurt you more than you thought they would. They hurt like hell because you realise there are not the ones you wanted to hear. You wanted to hear him say that he would let go of Ada, for good, for you. You wanted to hear that because deep down … YOU WANTED TO FUCKING STAY! “But can you let go of your past?” He continues and you shake your head refusing to hear any other word coming out of Leon’s mouth.       “Don’t!” You beg, weary.           “No! Listen to me this time. Ada is my past, Y/N. She’s my past. And you … you’re my future. You’re my life, damn it!” He doesn’t cry but you don’t need his tears to sense how emotional and how honest he is. And suddenly, you just want to listen to him. “And I was a fool not to see it sooner. When you left me, I felt a void I had never felt in my entire life. I felt like a part of me was missing. And then, the bombing in Washington happened, and it was like I had nothing left. I needed you. I wanted you. You. Not Ada.”      “Leon” You whisper and he cups your face again, blue eyes staring deep into yours, allowing you to see everything in him, his strong love for you and all the weaknesses he hated to admit. “It was you in my mind. Only you. And it will always be you. Because I love you. Now. Today. And I will always love you.”

You cry even more, uncertain if those tears are tears of sorrow, tears of joy or a mix of both. God, how can your emotions be such a mess right now? How can you be wishing to shout at him with all the anger you’ve accumulated and, at the same time, willing to kiss him with all love you’ve got?

“If you got to believe something. Believe that. And if that’s not enough and you think you can be happy with someone else. Then go. I won’t hold you back.” You frown. He is fucking lying. You’re sure of it. “You can’t stop running after me and you know it.” He smiles and scoffs, sensing that hint of sudden defiance in your tone he enjoys a lot.  “True. I can’t sop running after you. But I’ll do my best not to catch you if that’s what you want. But you got to tell me. Is that what you truly want?” You don’t reply. Truth is, you’re not sure what to say not because you’re not sure that’s what you want but because you’re not sure you can trust him if you let him in again.                        “No.” You whisper. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you. All of you.” You can see Leon struggle to contain his growing joy as it starts to glimmer brighter and brighter in his irises. He doesn’t want to cry victory just yet. He is cautious and rightfully so. “But can I?”        “Want me?” He smiles. “ Have you completely?” You correct, searching for a promise in his eyes, one you hope, you wish he would not break this time.     “Trust me with your heart again and find out.”

This better not hurt this time…

[koobunno]

Would it be alright if I pulled you closer?

smut, angst, sociopath!taehyung, dad!taehyung, husband!taehyung

A/N: This fic might be triggering to some, I'm sorry, I just wanted to cry a bit. :((

T/Ws: sex abuse, fingering, abusive husband/partner, oral sex, mild physical abuse

Word Count: 1,733 words

-------------

Taehyung kissed your neck as he draped his arms around you. “Taehyung” you mumbled as you closed your eyes, confused if you're pleased or scared about what’s about to happen. He turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks while looking at your lips. “Hmm? Don’t tell me you’re tired” he smirked as if he knew what you’re just going to say. “No, it’s just, our son might hear us” you made up an excuse to get through this, well at least you tried. “No, he won’t” replied to you still smirking.

He then rapidly caught your lips with his, still analyzing what’s happening you didn’t get to respond to his kisses not until he squeezed your sides. It was not a gentle one and it made you wince a bit. You just closed your eyes and responded to his kisses as you always would whenever your husband feels needy.

The kiss went on to be wilder, needier and lustful. Still holding your eyes shut you felt how his hands travelled throughout your body. You felt it squeezing and spanking your ass multiple times, then went to your breasts to massage and play with your clothed nipples. You whined because of the unwanted pleasure he’s giving you.

His fingers went to your shoulders and pulled down the strap of your nightgown. At this point you’ll just be compliant, as he labeled how you should be. It exposed your breasts directly for you are not wearing a bra. He cupped your breasts and pressed them together. He put his mouth on your left bosom and ate it like a needy infant. He has bitten it and it made you scream because of the ache he gave.

“Stand up, face the wall” he authoritatively told you. You stood up as you didn’t want any more fuss to happen. While you’re facing the cold wall you can hear his clothes drop to the ground. Closing your eyes, you felt his hands trace your waist, he collected your hair after and asked you to give him the band on your wrist. You gave him the hairband and he tied your hair neatly.

After that, his hands went to the waistband of your underwear. Pulling it slowly as if he is seeing a sight. Still with your eyes shut, you felt how his long fingers slid to your pussy, inserting a finger inside you, and withdrawing it to spread your juices around. “Shit” you mewled as he massaged your now-wet clit, and went on fingering you again. Pinning you against the wall, you can feel his dick touching your back as he plays with your pussy with his digits.

When you think he got bored of what he’s doing, you felt the tip of his penis at your entrance, your body jolted as you felt the sensation. “Stay still” he whispered into your ear and bit it afterwards. You nodded as he turned you over and pushed you down to kneel. You knew what to do, you licked your lips and held on his shaft as you put it in your mouth. Taehyung moaned as you played with your tongue. He went hard by grinding his hips more causing you to gag.

Not wanting to stop there, Taehyung and you went to the bed again, he made you sit on his face as his tongue wiggled around you, holding your breasts tightly, you don't know what to feel, really. If it’s pleasure or despair as you let your husband use you for pleasure again.

Taehyung then pushed you back to the bed, harshly. Sipped and bit your neck, leaving marks as you feel his tongue against it.

You’re just startled when you felt him into you and started to grind fast. Hearing those sloppy and wet strokes, you just closed your eyes and let out a moan. Taehyung, still pounding you while eating out your breasts simultaneously.

He inserted two fingers on your mouth, as the push and pull doesn’t stop. He then halted for a while, made you stand on all fours, entering you from the back. Holding your hips to ensure the pace he wants. You pushed your face on a pillow for you don’t want to scream too loud. Spanking your butt, Taehyung didn’t let his speed down. “Ahhhh-shit” you heard him mewl as he pushed himself deeper.

“Ahhhhhhh-fucking shit” he shouts as you felt his cum wash your inside walls. You shut your eyes tightly again as if you’re thanking all the odds that it’s done, at last. Taehyung pulled out of you and went directly to the bathroom, maybe to wash himself. You’re still lying on the bed covering your body with the blanket, tired from what happened. The switch went off and you felt your clothes being thrown at you. He’s going out somewhere again, after using you.

“Taehyung” you called for him. “Yes?” he answered while he’s putting on his watch. “Please don’t forget your son’s Award Ceremony tomorrow” you told him like you were begging, knowing he’ll be out for the night again, you just wanted to remind him. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.” he told you as he was leaving you in the cold room, putting your clothes on.

———

You’re trying to sleep but you shifted on the other side of your body as you felt an uncomfortable ache at your waist, you stood up and went in front of the mirror to check. It displayed a big red mark because of the way Taehyung squeezed your waist earlier. You just grabbed a compress to put on it while you’re trying to sleep alone in a big bed.

———

Barely getting any sleep, at 5:00 am you heard the doors unlock, because of your husband who isn’t that drunk but reeks of alcohol. You went there to check and he just rolled his eyes on you, as expected. He went up straight to your bed and slept as if he’s tired and weary. You just went back to bed to get a hold of sleep even for a short time.

Hours later you woke up just in time to help your son prepare for school. “Mommy, I’ll see you and daddy later at school okay? You promised.” he assured you. “Yes, baby, you’ll see us later” you nodded and kissed him before he ran towards the school bus waiting outside.

Checking on Taehyung who is still in a deep slumber, you prepared yourself for work. As you sat in front of the vanity mirror, you saw noticeable marks on your neck that’s why you made an effort to cover those visible ones.

You left a note at the door reminding Taehyung again for your son’s event later that day before leaving. You swung on your bag and it hit your waist, you flinched as you felt it hurt, knowing it’s now progressed to being a bruise. You let the idea go and went straight to work.

———

“Uhm, we don’t have any meetings scheduled this afternoon right?” you asked your secretary, ensuring you don’t compromise work to attend to your child. “None so far, ma’am.” she told you as you told her that you’ll take an early-out for your son.

You arrived at your child’s school and went to the hall, your son greeted you and immediately asked about his father, who wasn't visible by the time. “He'll be here soon, now go back to your seat, I’ll be sitting here at the back” you told him as he ran off back to his seat. You called Taehyung and after 5 missed calls he answered. “What do you need?” he said over the line. “Uh, when will you go here? Your son asks about you.” you told him honestly. You heard him sigh deep and told you he’s coming. He forgot once again, if only you hadn’t called him, you’ll deal with your child crying for the rest of the day again.

-----

Taehyung arrived at the venue minutes later, just in time because your son’s preparing to go up the stage with his classmates, Taehyung held his hand before you did so you just went back to your seat. The ceremony started and your son received the prestigious award, still holding his father’s hand. They went down the stage and he showed you his gold medal and a plaque. You smiled at him and kissed his cheeks, Taehyung looking at him, smiling.

Taehyung suggested treating his son. You counted yourself out because you can feel Taehyung’s sharp glare at you. “I still have something to do for work, baby bear.” You made an excuse because your son isn't happy about it but you can’t stand him seeing you and Taehyung fight over nonsense matters while he’s on the treat. “Enjoy with daddy, first hmm?” you told him before you went to your car and drove home.

Arriving at your house, you went to your room and changed clothes, a thin flimsy white shirt and a short. You decided to change the sheets and clean the room. After, you went for a nap. Hours later, you woke up to a noise coming from the main door. It’s definitely your husband and your son. You saw your child carrying loads of toys, his father took him to a spree again. You just smiled at the sight of him being so happy to spend time with Taehyung. “Come on, show mommy what you got earlier.” Taehyung told your child and the little one excitedly pulled out everything his father bought for him. While Taehyung grabbed your waist, slightly squeezing it, you silently squirmed as your side ached once again. “Bedroom in 20 minutes, hmm?’ Taehyung whispered in your ear, making you shiver. “Isn’t this cool, mommy?” Taehyung sarcastically told you while holding one of the toys he bought for your son. You faked a smile as you nodded and answered with a yes. Your son giggling because of excitement for all of his new toys.

You just put out a lethargic smile because you decided to endure everything for your son, even if it’s an exchange for your well-being. It’s for your son after all, he’s happy whenever his dad's around, even if it’s the complete opposite for you.

You’ll still pull Taehyung closer despite the stinging pain you feel.

[axwalker]

CREEP 4: I wish I was special

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection.

In this chapter: Lexie and Drake spend a lot of time together. I’ve have to be honest this is a filler chapter with a bit a lot of smut 🤷🏽‍♀️

A/N: Drake’s and Lexie’s POV. 

Words: 4,470

WARNINGS: SMUT! Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love.

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS –As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

Drake 

I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m holding Lexie in my arms, and this is happening. 

Damn. She tastes even better than I imagined. Soft lips, the flavor of cherries and mint and something singularly Lexie. So, fucking sweet. Her innocent tongue is hesitant at first to play with mine, making her surrender even more satisfying. She’s been the center of my world for years. She’s everything I crave, and I didn’t know how to handle the rejection of the only person who matters to me. I know that’s not an excuse; I know that I don’t fucking deserve her. Hell, if I were a better man, a man that wasn’t starving for her, I’d live her alone.  

She makes me stumble into the bed- when her thighs tighten around me, and she allows me inside her perfect little mouth with hot strokes of my tongue, my hands aching over the softness of her hair, her cheeks, absorbing her unique textures with my palms. 

Get yourself out of my system. My heart has just awakened again, and it breaks painfully; when I think about her words, I make a pitiful sound into the kiss. Ah God. The best night of my life could be the night Lexie cuts me off for good, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening. She’s attracted to me, but I’ve hurt her too badly to contemplate a future. A man with more self-control, maybe an older one, might stop this now. Demand to talk, to explain to her I’ve loved her for so long and so fucking deep that I can’t see straight. That I let my insecurity act on my name. But right now, I can do nothing but soak up every inch, take as much as I can before she wants me gone. I let her mouth go momentarily, kissing down her jawline to her neck, trying to memorize exactly how she smells, how she tastes in every single part of her. How she sounds when she moans brokenly when she shifts her pussy against my lap. Then does it again. 

“Feels good,” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough to hear above the storm. “Drake.” 

I want to give her a first time she’ll think about every hour for the rest of her life, but I’m… I’m quickly recognizing my inexperience. I’m not as practiced at sex as she thinks. Only one girl before I met her. After seeing those deep brown eyes, no one else would do it for me. But I have been fucking starving for it for years. With this girl. So when she rubs against my cock and whispers, “feels good,” I almost come against in my jeans. 

I have to force myself not to grip her butt cheeks and grind her down while I thrust up, giving myself enough friction to finish. Christ, don’t finish. Please. I’ve been blessed with an opportunity I don’t deserve. A night with Lexie. A chance to make her first time perfect—and that’s what I’m going to do, even if it kills me. 

A thunder rumbles in the sky outside as she makes urgent, breathy noises, her fingers grabbing my T-shirt. She strips it off over my head, her palms slowly brushing the shape of my chest up to my arms, leaning in to kiss the hollow of my throat, the underside of my chin. Heat burns me from the inside, growing hotter with every touch of those lips on my body—and no, no, no, I can never live without her. I’ll fade and die without her touch. Get into her system, not out of it. Get deeper. So deep she can’t take me out. As deep as she is inside me. I know she’ll never love me as I do her, but I need her anyway. With those directions clear and loud in the back of my head, I move toward the bed and drop down to my knees, gently laying Lexie on her back, kissing her incredible mouth while my fingers fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans. I’m touching Lexie’s pussy through denim, and again, I want her so fucking badly, I’m worried I’m going to ruin everything, but I grit my teeth and start to slide the jeans down her legs. As soon as the soft, soft flesh of her thighs is revealed, I tilt my face up and shut my eyes closed. God, oh God. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, lifting her hips so I can remove the pants. “You’re so beautiful; I’m trying not to come just looking at you,” I groan, tossing her jeans aside, taking several deep breaths to get myself under control, before giving in to the overwhelming temptation to see Lexie in panties. No amount of imagination could have done her justice. The shy inward turn of her left knee, the light blue panties that rapidly become see-through, thanks to how wet she is. The slit of her sex. My senses are overloaded, my breathing uneven.

Then she blushes and bites her lip, and I understand that she’s as nervous as I am. Probably more. Fuck, this is not about me. This is about the beautiful, sweet girl underneath me. I take a moment to look at her face; her eyes are shining, her cheeks pink, her mouth is swollen from being kissed. I’m an eighteen-year-old man who –for three years, has only climaxed from jerking off, and because of that, my instinct now is to take my cock out and come all over the goddess in front of me. I’ll come so hard. All over her. But this is more than sex. I’m being allowed sex with the girl of my dreams. My dick is in disbelief, painfully hard and dripping with pre-come in my boxers, begging to come inside of her, instead of out. And Lexie…her eyes are locked on it in wonder, lips in an O shape. I’m going to be looking at that beautiful face when she takes my cock inside of her, feeling me move, stealing her innocence. Jesus. How am I going to last? 

“Lexie,” I groan through my teeth, trying to explain with that single word how fucking horny she makes me. She’s still staring at the bulge in my jeans. 

“Am I…should I…” I’ve never heard her with that husky tone of voice before. “Does it go in my mouth first?” 

I shudder so hard, my jaw almost breaks. “Christ, don’t say that, baby. Fuck.” I’m a beast right now, ripping down my zipper and shoving my hand inside, beating off the raw length of my dick, my eyes traveling from her face, to her tits, to her pussy. Then circling back and starting at the beginning,  telling her how fucking gorgeous she is. A fucking goddess. And Lexie seems to sense my desperation and overcome her shyness because she takes down her panties and kicks them away, baring herself to me. Ironically, when I should ultimately explode because the vision she creates is such perfection, I’m determined with purpose instead. With responsibility. As soon as her pussy is out, all I can think about is tasting it, giving her an orgasm and my own sexual pain takes an immediate back seat, my jerking hand slowing in the lap of my jeans. The sight of Lexie’s body hypnotizes me. 

“Can I touch you?” She nods shyly but eagerly, holding her breath. I hold mine, too, my palms gently grazing up her inner thighs and pushing them apart, spreading the pink slit between her legs, revealing the secrets I need to learn or I’ll die unsatisfied. “Tell me when I do something that feels good.” 

Slowly, I trace a thumb down the split of her pussy and her back arches, her gasp is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “There,” I say in a rush, finally exhaling, tracing the edges of the nub that made her eyes roll back in her head. “Can I lick you here, baby?” Her hands fly to the mattress, fingers digging into the blanket. 

“Yes.” 

Fuck. I get to give her head. I’m down on my stomach in a heartbeat, rubbing my nose through her slick folds, inhaling Lexie, something peachy, gently dragging my tongue side to side over that little button. The sight of it makes my cock pound, my tongue licking toward it automatically, on reflex…and Lexie loses her fucking mind. A sexy sound fills my ears, her fingers sinking into my hair, pulling me closer. It’s like winning a gold medal at the Olympics. Knowing I found the exact spot that could get that reaction out of my girl has almost made me come right then. My tongue is worshipping her until I’m devouring her, doubting between French kissing her wet little pussy and teasing that perfect spot, her cries making the sweetest music in my ears. 

“Drake. Drake. Don’t stop. Don’t. Please, please, please.”

 When she comes, I swear to God, the taste of her is so sweet, so incredible, I go a little insane.

“I-I’m ready, Drake. Please.”

Despite how fucking bad I want her, I must make sure she wants this. I take a deep breath to calm my fucking dick, then I bend down to kiss her cute little nose and ask her, “Are you sure about this?”

She nods “Yes. God, yes.” 

“I don’t have a condom. I don’t—” 

“I’m on the pill. I went to the doctor myself to regulate my periods. Are you --uhm clean?” 

I’ve only been with one girl three years ago, and we were safe. “I am.” 

“Then I’m sure, Drake. Please, I want you so badly.” 

With a choked sound, I take hold of my cock and press it to her center, my life flashing in front of my eyes when I slide in a single inch and her wet pussy clenches around me like a fist. “Oh. Fuck.” I drop my face into her neck, raking my teeth against it, my hips burning with the need to thrust. Claim. Pound her into the ground.

“Are you okay, baby?” Fuck, her eyes are shut, a painful expression in her innocent face.

“I just need a moment, Drake.”

“I’ll give you anything you need, baby.” I don’t need to think about anything to distract myself. The mere fact of knowing she’s hurting is more than enough to sober me up. I cage her head in my arms and kiss her softly. I look her in the eyes, and there’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before. Trust. 

 “I lied to you, Lexie. I’ve only been with one person like this. But that was before you. Since then, I’ve never wanted to touch anyone but you. Never been hard for anything but this…” I feel her adjusting to me, so I force in another inch. It feels better than I could’ve ever imagined. “This sweet little pussy.” I search Lexie’s flushed face and find her looking at me in wonder, surprise. 

“You…waited for me.” she whispers. 

My nod is jerky, teeth clenched. “You really haven’t figured it out yet? You can’t tell I’m obsessed with you?” I drop hard kisses all over her face, her hair, her neck. “You can’t tell I would murder, lie and steal just to have you look at me?” Her breath comes in tight pants, brown eyes glazed. 

 “I need more. You’ve been hiding from me for two years, acting like someone else. But this…this is honest. I-I want to feel it.” 

“Soon. Soon. Just let me get myself under control.” 

“Please, Drake.” Her expression is enthralled, imploring. “Fall apart.” 

I “Lexie, please. I don’t want to hurt you, baby. I want to make it perfect for you.” 

She gives me one of those smiles I craved so much, and catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches down and sinks her fingernails into my ass, yanking me close and impaling herself on my rigid cock. Fuck, I want to be gentle with her, I need to but damn if she’s not making it difficult. I bury myself to the hilt, and she gasps 

 “Hurts,” she says. “You’re too big. It’s too big.” 

“What?” I struggle for awareness, my eyes unfocused as I search her face. 

“Too big…” “It hurts.” Horror hits me. I’m hurting Lexie. My Lexie. Fuck no. “No, I’ll stop.” 

“No.” She tightens her legs around my hips. “Just go slow.” 

I kiss her front. “I’ll go as slow as you need me to.” My eyes focus on her pretty face. She’s so perfectly delicate. “You’re sure, baby?”

“Yes.” She kisses my mouth to reassure me, and I groan, melting at her touch, gently rolling in and out of her. It’s a painful effort to keep the slow pace, but I want her to enjoy this. I stop for a few seconds, and I search her face. If she’s still in pain, I’ll pull out of her no matter what she says. But her lips are parted, and she seems to be getting there with me, so I continue to thrust, rhythmic and measured, our eyes hot on one another.  Her tight little pussy is making me insane. 

 “You’ve been driving me crazy,” I growl, kissing her neck. “The smell of you in class. The shape of your neck and hips and that perfect hair moving in front of me. Perfect, so perfect, so mine. And you wouldn’t even give me your eyes. It broke me. But you’ve always been mine, no matter what, huh? Nothing can change that.” I lick her neck, her throat, her mouth. I move a little faster and she cries of pleasure. “Be mine, Lexie.” 

I put my hand between us and touched her at the same spot I did when I kissed her sex. Her reaction is immediate. 

“Oh god, Drake. Just there. This is—God.”

She cries one last time, and I can feel her pleasure squeezing my cock as she comes.

An invisible string is cut when I’m finally down the other side of my peak, my heaving body collapsing on top of Lexie’s. “Lexie?” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m… God. Are you okay?” 

Her nod gets my blood running again. 

“It finally happened,” I say, almost hoping she didn’t hear me.

“What did?”

“My fantasy came true.”

The smile she gives me is almost shy. And somehow, that’s the best part of our perfect night. 

 Lexie 

Over the years, my mother’s voice has started to fade from my head, but I can remember her saying, “Santo Dios,” when something interested her. Or made her sit up and take notice. And watching the muscles of Drake’s back move in the darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Santo Dios. After we… After what happened … I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too shallow for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too crude, too impersonal, when what passed between us couldn’t have been more personal. 

All this time, I pictured Drake meeting girls on the weekends, forgetting all about me in a quest for momentary bliss. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’s been…he waited. He waited for me. When making that confession, the raw honesty in his eyes left absolutely no doubt that he…feels something for me. Quite a lot, if I can believe what a man says in the heat of the moment. None of what Drake said felt like bullshit, though. Or a man telling a woman what she wants to hear. It was as if he’d been holding it in and pleasure broke the dam of secrets, making his walls collapsed all around me.  Leaving me with the ruins of all this new knowledge. 

I sit on the back porch of the cabin, arms wrapped around my knees, watching Drake connect the generator so we can have light. Thanks to the storm, the electricity isn’t working. Now, shirtless, he works on his knees in front of the machine, a frown of focus between his dark brows. Every minute or so, he stops working to glance over at me, his throat bobbing, his eyes watchful and hungry, the outline of his erection back to pressing against the front of his jeans. My newfound feminine vibrates, demands attention. I was too tired to put my pants back on, so I’m dressed in panties and a T-shirt. My lack of clothing feels forbidden, as does being alone at a cabin with a boy. For the whole night. And I don’t know what to do about the desire he’s fueled inside of me. I don’t know what to do with the excitement of knowing we’re both new –or almost, at exploring the bodies of the opposite sex…and all the ways we could do it now. Inside the cabin. Alone. No one to hear us, judge us, see us. No getting in trouble. Nothing holding us back. Except for what he did to me for two bitterly long years. Except for the fact that I need to get far away from here, from my father, and it won’t do me any  good to get attached to this magnetic boy.

There can only be one night. I need to make a fresh start. I need to cut myself clean off from everything that has made me feel sad and broken in the past—and whether my heart likes it or not, Drake Walker is one of those things. 

He’s looking at me right now like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And it’s that kind of intuition he seems to have about me that is going to get me into trouble. Going to make me second-guess my determination to leave him here along with everyone and everything else I’ve grown up with. 

Drake sets down the tool in his hand and flips a switch, lighting up the porch. “Looks like it’s working.” 

“Yeah.” 

He sends me a tight smile. “They don’t call me a handyman for nothing.” It occurs to me in that moment that I don’t know a lot about Drake’s private life. I know he lives in a trailer on the other side of town. And the horrible story he told me about his family, but not much more. 

 I want to escape this place. Does he? “Are you…planning on hanging around Portavira after graduation?” 

His movements pause ever so slightly, but I catch it. “Hadn’t thought too much about it.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” he sighs. “That’s a lie.” Kneeling in front of the toolbox, his jaw tightens, his gaze eventually making its way back to me. “And I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Lexie.” 

“Then don’t,” I say quickly, holding my breath. 

“I know you want to go to college and make something of yourself, but that -that’s not an option for me. I’m just going to stay here trying to fix this old house and honor my dad’s memory.”

He evades my gaze, and the reason why is painfully obvious. “You have nothing, nothing to be ashamed about, Drake. What you’re doing with this cabin is amazing; if this is what you want to do, you should”.

Even in the muted moonlight, I can see the reddening of his cheekbones. “Believe me, for the rest of my life, I’m going to hate myself for how I treated you. I thought…” 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, but answers anyway. “That night at your house, I thought when you found out I what I did for a living, that I was there to repair your roof…you remembered I wasn’t good enough for you. That you looked down on me. I thought you were ignoring me all this time because you regretted everything that happened, everything you said. You had a momentary lapse of judgement and went back onto your pedestal, out of reach of my filthy hands. It hurt to think I disgusted you. It hurt and I took it out on you.” At the end of his explanation, my mouth is hanging open. No wonder he was so mad, lashing out all the time. He thought I was ignoring him because I thought myself better. Above him. For a prideful person like Drake, being ignored because of his status would have stung worse than anything else. 

“Why are you only telling me this now?” 

“Because it sounds like an excuse—and I’m not making one. Ever.” 

“I didn’t think I was better than you. I missed you.” That strong chest of his starts to rise and fall quickly, his gaze penetrating me through the darkness. “I know that sounds silly. It was just one night.” 

“No. I missed you, too.” He takes a step in my direction. “Still do.” His eyes close and he releases a bumpy breath. “Brutally, baby. I’ve never stopped wanting—fuck-craving you like a madman. It just killed me to see how you were so gentle and kind to everyone but me. Even before I started -bullying you.” 

Nerve tingle everywhere on my body, the need to touch and be touched by Drake increasing the temperature of my skin rapidly, making my breasts feel full, my legs weak. I’ve never tried drugs, but I understand now what addiction must be like. Fighting a pull, battling a self-destructive urge, promises an incredible high before the inevitable downward spiral. If I give him the slightest encouragement, he’s going to bring me inside and…be with me again. 

Is that what I want? Yes. 

Will giving in to my physical urges make it much harder when I have to leave town for good? Yes. Yes. 

There isn’t anything casual about Drake and me. And how can I begin to rebuild my pride, my life, if my first act of independence is giving my body to the person who made me cry so many times since sophomore year, I’ve lost count? I search for a way to change the subject. To take the focus off the connection dragging us back together. 

“Well.” I dampen my lips. “I don’t think I’ll go to college anymore. My father hid all my acceptance letters. He was never really going to let me go.” I intertwine my fingers together and tighten them until they leach of color. “Tonight, was the first time I ever spoke back to him. I was just so angry.” Several beats pass. 

“Of course, you were.” He drops down onto the back porch, a couple of feet to my right, staring out into the trees. “Hell, Lexie. I’m sorry he did that.” 

I nod. “I did a lot of thinking on the back of your bike. It’s good for that. Thinking. Isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. When you don’t want to think… it’s good for that, too.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looks over at me; hands clasped loosely between his bent knees. “What did you think about?” 

“College. How to salvage the original plan.” I feel kind of jumpy, sharing my ideas with Drake, with anyone, I’ve kept things to myself for so long, not confiding in my classmates, not getting close to others, lest my father find a way to blacken the connection. To make people sorry for interacting with me. “I was thinking…maybe I could go and see the school guidance counselor. I need all my transcripts to apply to college here in Cordonia. Once I do that, things might get easier. There has to be a way to make it work. Even if it is a little late to apply.” 

Drake nods, frowning like he’s giving my plan some serious thought. “It’s not safe for you to go back to the school, Lexie. I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you need. Pick up your transcripts or anything else. We can find a library around here to fill out the applications online…” My heart thumps heavily. All that time spent with him, getting deeper and deeper. It wouldn’t be wise. “You don’t have to do all of that.” 

“I want to.” 

His eyes are hopeful. I shouldn’t allow that hope. Nor should I rely on him for things I need to do myself. Things that will be required to take control of my life. “It’s not safe for you at the school, either. What if my father presses assault charges?” As soon as I ask the question, I shake my head. “Never mind. He’d never do that. People would know you bested him. They’d know what he did to me, too—and he’d never, never allow that. There’s nothing more important to him than his reputation.” 

“So I’ll go to the school for you?” he asks, quietly, almost too casually, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. It’s not a simple question. If I say yes to this favor, it means our…relationship will extend beyond one night. To include tomorrow—Sunday—plus Monday morning, before the school opens. It adds time to the us I know he still wants. Do I have a choice, though? My father could be there waiting for me, and that terrifies me more than my feelings for Drake do. What he’s willing to do could help me tremendously. Could start me on the path to a new beginning. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll go.” 

Drake swallows loudly, his eyelids closing. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze traces my bare thighs hungrily. We have until Monday now. What are we going to do with all that time? That question hangs in the air, unspoken, but louder than a shout. I can almost feel the binds tightening us together, strengthening until they become impossible to snap. And it scares me, but I need him too, even if it’s for a few days. Always loved being scared, electrified, by beautiful things, and bare-chested in the moonlight, Drake is by far the most beautiful of all. 

“Lexie…” he breathes, swallowing loudly. “I want to taste you again?” Heat envelops me, invades me. I’ve always worried I need to touch myself too often. That I have a more pronounced sexual appetite than I’m supposed to have at my age. But as Drake kneels on the lower stair in front of me and separates my thighs, kissing a path toward my apex, I know he’s the reason. Drake is the reason I’ve been riding the heel of my hand, crying frustration into my pillow, night after night after night. He’s the one that inspires the excruciating arousal—and I don’t have a shot in hell of saying no to him. Not when it comes to being physical. I just have to remember to say no to anything more. Anything beyond this. “Yes…” I lean back on my elbows. “Do it.” 

He does, and we spend the next hours lost on each other. 

[captain-barnes-writes]

Mafioso

Summary: Mob boss Bucky Barnes enjoys his vacation in Colombia in more ways than one.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Latina

Warning: Language, mafia, maybe a little dark?, age gap, daddy kink (or should I say papi kink😏), unprotected sex. Smutttttt—18+

[one-shot with possibility of a second part...]

NOT PROOFREAD.

Word Count: 5.9k

The thick air under the Colombian night sky had made James Buchanan Barnes break out into a slight sweat. Trickles of perspiration stuck to his forehead and his perfectly combed hair was starting to falter under the South American hot breeze. There was something in the air that night, the air so warm it even made someone like him, someone of his stature, want to wear a pair of shorts and a tank top. He’d pushed aside those thoughts though and opted for a dark ensemble that for the first time in a long time didn’t include a suit. He put the choice on the weather, but knew it was a mere excuse to a much needed laxed relaxation--his muscular frame donned a fitted midnight blue polo and expensive black chinos. A pure gold chain with a thick round pendant hung from his neck. Despite the somewhat more relaxed clothing choice, it still spoke greatly for the person he was, for the power he bore in his hands. He was away from New York, away from his many enemies, yet despite that he couldn’t let his guard down even while in a beautiful place like Medellin, Colombia.

He was a mafioso. Leader of a renowned and feared mafia, James, or as many of his closest confidants called him Bucky, was powerful beyond measure. One of the most remarkable features of the feared man was the way his dark profession didn’t at all really relate to the way he looked. With sharp blue eyes and dull clementine lips, Bucky stood over six feet tall and oftentimes used his honeyed voice to get his way. It was a shrill contrast to the person he truly was with his enemies, or those he was not familiar with, a booming menace with toneless manners and gestures. A darkened soul.

More often than not, he would not be recognized or even thought to be a huge asset of organized crime. He was too handsome, too respectful and was a masked businessman to the public but a true bandit underneath. The way he looked and the way dressed so professionally and gallantly with perfectly tailored dark expensive suits and shiny black leather shoes was his greatest disguise. Unbeknownst to whoever that he carried a sharp blade and fully loaded gun with him at all times.

The work was tiresome, physically and emotionally draining. For a man who was so often toneless in the way he spoke of death, in the way he so often wished it and caused it on others, and emotionless with tragedies, he was still a person beneath all the darkness—all the guns and all the violence. Upon a tormenting year filled with too much bloodshed, he’d decided to take some much needed time for himself in a place where there’d been similar violence and crime to that which he was partially responsible for back in the states, but still felt like a secluded place away from absolutely everything. With his turf being monitored by those he trusted most, to some extent he felt free.

For Bucky, Colombia had felt like an excellent choice upon making it and planning the trip to the t a few weeks prior. It’d taken so long to arrange in order to leave things in place and to choose those who were best skilled for the arduous job that was keeping order to such an unbalanced thing that was the mafia. He’d lied about his whereabouts to many, not wanting to compromise everything he’d worked so hard for.

Now Bucky was in the city of Medellin—rich in culture, food and most importantly filled with women. It had barely been his first day and he’d already eyed far too many beautiful women with their dark features and alluring accents. It was nighttime, past 9 pm and he’d just taken a seat under an umbrella-ladden table with a few of his many bodyguards. They were brooding and menacing figures in dark attire. They were simply doing their job, but Bucky wished they’d take it down a notch especially in a bar where nobody knew who he was and what he stood for. Though he couldn’t say that to them because letting his guard down meant showing weakness and he couldn’t have that. Not now, not ever.

The vibrant graffiti art on the rustic building the restaurant and bar was situated at went so well with the multicolor knitted flag garland that stretched from one side to the other. The twinkling yellow lights illuminating the beautiful scene before him; people dancing, foreign and natives of the land. Hands joined at the hip, on the shoulders, bodies moving one way to the other and faces etched with a liberating kind of happiness. It was a fresh spectacle he hadn’t witnessed in far too long.

The country that had birthed magical realism and the rhythm and sound of cumbia was lit with shining bulbs and people whose bliss was of no comparison and it was slightly, just slightly, rubbing off on him when he found himself with a small smile. The people dancing before him were in their own little world as the unfamiliar music emanated moves from them that he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to replicate.

And then there was her. A gleaming light of a woman with tan skin that glowed underneath the superficial lighting. Her face seemed to be in such a deep concentration that didn’t seem to emanate from stress or from taking on a hard task, but at the simple task of dancing.  

She was the epitome of magic in his eyes—a Colombian who bore beauty so devastating it had dried his mouth. The tan skin, dark flowing tresses that reached her lower back and dusky inviting eyes. A charmeuse emerald green dress with a blood orange floral print design clung effortlessly to her body and much to his pleasure, the frill hem of the dress ended just above the middle of her smooth thighs. The radiant energy that emanated from her was more than Bucky could even imagine; she was more than he could even have imagined. Not that he had before. Compared to all the women he’d encountered during the last few hours he’d been on the foreign soil she took all the medals with her. She took absolutely everything and he wasn’t even near her, hadn’t even touched her, or felt the delicate skin of her neck or even felt the glossy lips that he felt desperate to take a hold of.

Her hips were shaking side to side, tips of her toes translating the music that she so deeply felt. Her bones were burning with the sound of her native music, the sound of Cumbia. Se me perdió la Cadenita’s tune playing in the background as the movements of her hips followed every beat far too perfectly.

She was dancing alone unlike the many people that surrounded the large dancefloor who had their partners. Many times, She found herself in this bar in the famous little plaza of Medellin. Frequented by locals and non-locals alike, it was always a party. The ambiance was a delicacy, the drinks were great and the music never missed.

Today, for the first time ever, she found herself arriving at the bar alone due to her friend ditching her for last-minute plans with her boyfriend. She understood, but still wanted to come out on her own for a much needed distraction because work had been hectic and her personal life was even worse. Drinks and a good sweat-inducing dance always did the trick. Just this time she’d have to dance with herself.

Or maybe not.

Y/N felt heavy cerulean eyes burning holes on her back. She’d peeked once or twice and was well aware of the handsome, well-dressed man sitting amongst a group of menacing looking men whom she could tell were most likely white. He was too, and while she wasn’t particularly attracted to white men, he was something else. Had a little kick, a little spice and how did she even know that? She didn’t, but the man was in Colombia so she’d deduced that he had good taste so far. Blue eyes, she’d noticed, short dark tendrils neatly combed and a trimmed beard. It wasn’t until she’d gotten lost in her own thoughts that her eyes lost sight of the alluring man and a flick of disappointment shot through her.

With a scoff, all her movements had come to a halt and she made her way to the bar area to get herself yet another drink. She’d had two so far and already felt the alcohol contents doing their godforsaken job, alleviating the stress from her shoulders,soothing her wracking brain and letting her have a form of tranquil fun. She wasn’t the best drinker and knew that two more drinks and she’d probably have blurry vision and slurred speech. Consumed in her own thoughts, she suddenly heard the bartender ask what she wished to order.

“Un mojito de aguardiente.” She responded.

“Yo tambien.” Me too. A voice chimed next to her. Strong and laced with a very thick accent that had almost made the words incoherent to any ear. It was the polo-clad man who’d been gawking at her from his table just a mere few minutes ago and now he was standing right next to her. He was so close, the skin of their arms were brushing against each other; she thought of how he felt so warm.

“Good choice.” She commented, eyes trailing up to meet his. An abyssal of blazing blue with a glint of mischief and many things she could not make of stared back at her. The crinkles at the end of his eyes came to shape as he offered her a small nod and smile. He was slightly taken aback at the way the English words slipped past the plumpness of her lips, slightly thick but still more than understandable. Far better than his Spanish.

“We both ordered the same thing so I think we both have great taste.” Bucky with all his influence and overwhelming power was overcome with a yearning for the woman beside him and felt as if he’d become prey to her. But he knew far too well that despite the confidence she so easily oozed and the way she had him almost salivating, she was the victim here. It would never be him.

When the bartender came back with both drinks, Bucky had immediately placed a one hundred dollar bill on his hand, paying for both drinks despite her protest, and told him to keep the change. The man’s face beamed and proceeded to thank him profusely to which he waved him off with nonchalance because to him a bill of such value was simple pocket change.

“You didn’t have to pay for me, really.” The woman pleaded, thick brows furrowed as she fumbled to get money from her purse. Bucky was amused as he placed his hand on her arm trying to stop her movements and at the sudden touch, her head snapped to look at him. It was then when her lips were agape with wide brown eyes that he thought she looked so young, and concluded that she was most likely in her early 20s. He became even more curious, pining to know little details about her.

“It was nothing. Just tell me your name, that’ll be enough.”

It was nothing.  At this, she became a little nervous. She couldn’t deny he was really easy on the eyes, even that was an understatement, he was as handsome as men came. With the crisp and costly clothes he wore along with the heavy gold chain that adorned his chest and not to mention the fact that he had just carelessly spent 100 dollars on two drinks that couldn’t have cost more than twenty. And the burly men clad in black who stood at the far back of the large bar just staring at them, at him, not letting him out of their sight as if their lives depended on the very man himself. It warned her that he was a man of money and even the way he carried himself spoke of the probable immense power he held.

With a voice that faltered, accent heavy she responded with her name.

“Y/N.” He tried it, weighed it on his tongue and savored it because it complemented her so well. Said it loud so she could hear him and she did, becoming just a tad flustered as she opened her mouth and closed it again. No sound coming out.

“Such a pretty name, darling.” His honeyed voice caused a flutter in her stomach, but she put it on the alcohol and not at the way the nickname sounded too good coming from him. She felt flushed, and at the sensation that her face had become hot she placed her drink down and put her cooled hands on her cheeks. It was embarrassing that she’d become such a mess in front of him and to try to distract him from this she asked for his name too.

“Bucky.” He replied.

“Never heard of that name before...maybe just because I’m from here, um but is it short for something?”

Just like she had paused earlier when he asked for her name, he became slightly agitated too. He took a large sip of the drink, the aguardiente was a tad powerful but the anise accents mixed with lemon and mint were comforting and gave way to a refreshing taste. He turned his face to look at her after a few seconds, having mulled over the meek possibility of the girl recognizing him, elbows propped on the wooden bar counter.

“It’s just a nickname.” He finally succumbed to the way her doe eyes waited for an answer, but he’d lied to her face. It was actually short for Buchanan. Instead he would give her his first name, a simple name. He wished so ardently that she’d be moaning it in no time.

“My name is James.”

“Oh.” Was all that came from the beauty beside him as she sipped her drink. She didn’t seem to hiss at the alcohol and he deduced that she probably drank it quite often.

“How old are you?” Bucky enquired after she’d grown silent, seemingly too interested in the drink that was more than halfway gone. She’d had such confidence earlier on the dance floor, with hips that weaved and swung to the rhythm of the music and her face expression had been so jaunty. Carefree and relaxed. Now in his presence she seemed quite shy. He wondered why she’d taken on this form now, he didn’t think of himself as being too pushy. At least not now because there was no need, she was compliant enough. He only showed that harsh edge when necessary.

“22.” She uttered. He’d been right, she was in her early 20s. God, she was so young and he was already pushing 40. The age should’ve had him walking away, but he wasn’t at the thought of being between her pretty thighs savoring her, tasting her. He wanted to teach her a few things only men his age knew. Taking one last sip of her drink before placing it on the counter. Her waves cascading down to her lower back slightly moved as she yet again twisted to gaze up at him with burnt sienna eyes. She was sensual without even meaning to and he felt his pants tightening.

She adjusted her feet, feeling a slight ache at standing with the bronze pumps and placed a hand on her hip. The plunging neckline of the dress was enticing him. Smooth skin peeking at the bright material that complemented her far too well as if it was made just for her. He himself had just finished his drink as well, placed it on the counter and moved to adjust his pants. The pressure was becoming uncomfortable. He’d moved his gaze away from her to look at his surroundings, a mere habit of his. It was then that her eyes trailed to his hands and that the sleek black object caught her eyes. She stared intently, feeling herself more agitated, and the black metal gleamed as if to alarm her. She let out a small gasp and averted her eyes to look anywhere else, but him

She was panicking at being in such close proximity to a deadly weapon. It was normal to carry a gun and sometimes it did seem as a necessity to ward off danger, but it didn’t ease the discomfort Y/N felt. She placed a hand on her chest while placing the other on the counter and taking a deep breath. She was having an internal battle, one side was chastising her for judging Bucky for the simple act of carrying a gun while the other side was pleading with her to get away.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispered so softly in her ear suddenly. Hot breath fanning on her side of her face and goosebumps arising on her skin. She stuttered, not even coming up with a coherent thing to say. His hand found its way to hers, gripping it, and bringing it up to place his lips on it. His eyes ablaze that she felt them burning holes on her forcing her to yet again meet them.

“Come on, darling.” He hummed, waiting for a response. Her hand was still entwined with his but now he was just holding it at his side, not letting go. His other hand had fallen to the waistline of his dark chinos, the sleek object coming to view. Her breath hitched and she felt as if she was speechless. Had he done that on purpose? To show her that he had the upper hand and that she had no choice but to say yes.

In the most twisted way the one thing she was holding onto was the deep rasp and slowness of his voice and the mere invitation to leave with him had allowed a current of heat creep to her stomach, a pooling sensation in between her legs. She yet again put it on the alcohol because had she been completely sober she would’ve escaped already.

She blinked at him, words continuing to fail her. Bucky was growing impatient at the girl before him who seemed to be fighting with herself. He knew she’d seen the pistol hidden inside the waistband of his pants, but he didn’t even want to hurt her. Not like that anyway.

“It’s a gun, just for protection. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He defended.

She remained quiet and at the sound of no response, he let go of her hand and took hold of her face with both his hands. Gripping it, he brought his lips to hers in a forceful kiss. Her lips tasted like lemon and alcohol, so warm and soft he already felt addicted. She didn’t respond at first, her dainty hands coming up to grab the bottom of his arms to try to let go but it was no use because Bucky was far stronger. When his teeth lightly took hold of her bottom lip, she inadvertently let out a small moan. It was her first reaction and it had him wanting more. Groaning, he pulled away. Eyes filled with so much lust he thought it would seep out of him.

“Shit, come on.” His head turned to his men, signaling them it was time to go. She was going to come with him, she had to. He wanted her to grip the sheets of his bed tonight, bury her head in his pillows and moan his name. He gripped her hand again, dragging the girl through the exit of the bar. She wasn’t fighting, just struggling behind him with her bronze pumps.

In seconds, she was inside a sleek car with the engine revving and Bucky cruising through the Medellin streets. From her quietness, posture and the way her dainty hands fiddled on her lap Bucky deduced that she either didn’t do this often or at all.

In a haze, Y/N wondered what he did for a living. He had an expensive rental, donned tailored clothing of fine quality and had bodyguards for protection. They were trailing behind him in different cars, one in front and one at the back. With one hand on the steering wheel, Bucky rubbed soft circles on her thigh with the other . Her skin was smooth and it dawned on him than in no less than 5 minutes he’d get to have the woman next to him at his disposal. Completely naked and at his mercy. At the thought, he hardened.

“Touch me.” He commanded, voice laced with a yearning need it felt as if it was eating him alive.

“What?” Y/N sputtered, brown eyes growing wide. She wasn’t inexperienced, but this was a man far older than she’d ever been with. He seemed to be nearing his 40s with his fluffy locks already showing signs of graying. And she was still slightly scared that on the other side of his hip was a gun.

“Stop thinking about it. I said it’s not to hurt you.” He sounded slightly peeved, voice sounding a bit rough. He’d caught her eyeing his hip where his gun was. She nodded while taking a deep breath. She knew perfectly well what he wanted, her hands on him. With shaky hands, she began to unzip his pants and though he had groaned at the small action he stopped her with his hand.

“Just through the pants, baby. We’re almost at the hotel.” She blinked, pressing her hands to the prominent bulge on his black chinos. She began palming him through the thick fabric, feeling the ridges of his erection and she shameless bit her lip at the feel, at how big he felt. Through long lashes, she ogled at the man before her. Ruggedly handsome beyond words with a strong build she knew she’d be left aching. Even though she still felt remnants of uncertainty, she mostly felt a deep gust of excitement building within her.

Bucky’s mouth was watering at the actions of the young girl beside him, her small hand touching him in the most sensual way. And it felt like a huge step forward with her hands on him, but he also felt her lingering gaze. It prompted him to remove his hand from her thigh and accelerate on the roads he was not even familiar with but the need to get to his hotel was one of his top priorities. It was silent for the most part besides a few jagged groans that emanated from his chest at the way she was still touching him. It almost pained him to not be buried inside her yet. God, he just knew she'd be tight and sweet.

When they did arrive at the towering hotel building, he’d leaned over and wrapped her up in a sweltering kiss before he had her hand in his hand waltzing through the lobby and into the elevator. The tension was thick and he’d managed to get his hands on her waist pulling her closer to him. He knew better than to try anything on the elevator especially not with his bodyguards in tow.

With his key card already in hand, once in front of his suite, he hastily swiped it and dragged her inside. With a sigh of relief he pushed her against the door, shutting it. In a change of roles, she was the one grabbing at the collar of his polo and pulling him in her to crash their lips together. It was sexy in the nastiest way possible--mouths engulfing each other, him biting her lips, sucking on them and her fitting her tongue inside his mouth. It was sloppy and brought a wave of satisfaction, it just wasn’t enough.

With greedy hands he groped her ass, massaging the roundness through the soft charmeuse material of her dress before he lifted it up through her body forcing them to pull away in order to fully remove the dress. Once it had come off, he threw it in a heap on the floor and savored the girl in front of him. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed and her hair already in disarray she looked just about ready to take him. He could have just come at the sight of her with the pretty white lace set she sported. So tiny it barely covered anything.

“Look at you baby. You look so pretty, ready to take me huh?” He’d lifted her into his arms ushering her to wrap her tanned legs around him while his hands held the fullness of her bottom. She hated that he was fully dressed. She wanted to feel him against her, wanted to see the toned muscles of his torso and touch the bulge she’d had her hands just a few minutes prior, just this time without the thick material of his chinos.

She nodded at his question as a small yes fled from her lips when he brought their lips together again in another needy kiss. This time, he maneuvered through the large hotel room and finally dropped her on his bed. He’d stayed on his feet, removing his shirt and revealing his taut and strong chest.

“You look so good, Bucky” She hadn’t meant for her English to sound so thick, not only laced with a deep onset of lust but with complete delight at the sight of him. She blushed at the way she’d sounded, but he loved it. Loved the way his name fell from her swollen lips.

With a bite of his lip, he watched as her expression went from that of need to one filled with fear as he removed the gun from the waistband of his pants. The dark metal in his hand the only thing her eyes were focused on. He was amused at the innocence she carried. Even in a country like Colombia where crime and death rates were one of the highest back in the day because of people like him, she’d managed to keep that angelic essence. He admired her refusal to let go of it.

“I told you this is only for protection, baby. The only thing that’s gonna hurt you is this dick.” He was half joking, gun still gripped in his hand he walked around the side of the bed to place it on the white nightstand. It seemed as if even that wasn’t enough for her so with a roll of his deep blue eyes, he decided it was best he placed it inside the nightstand drawer. Sure, he had better access and more maneuver to reach for it if it was on top, but he wanted to fuck her so bad and wanted her to enjoy it not have a gun be the reason she couldn’t get wet over him.

She swallowed, a little more calm as she saw the weapon safely stored inside the drawer and offered him a timid smile. He chuckled at her newfound expression and felt the same yearning bubble up again. Desperate to feel her skin on him, he unbuckled his pants in a haste and threw them carelessly on the floor. If he wasn’t so damn hard to the point it pained him, he would’ve had her remove the pants with her small hands. Another time, he thought.

He climbed on top of her, expectant doe eyes staring back at him when his face prodded down at her. She reached her soft hands to touch his face and used it to pull his face towards hers. Lips meeting in a desperate kiss as if starved of human touch; so eager, so needy. His hands didn’t waste time exploring her body. They wanted to be everywhere at once, her breasts, her thighs and the sweet place between her thighs. For the time being, he’d stopped at the swell of her breasts, pushing down the thin lace cups and rubbing her perky brown nipples slowly. Fingers trailing on the smoothness of her areolas had turned to kneading. His lips had parted from hers and trailed down to the sensitive skin of her neck and made sure to take the skin between his lips. Sucking and biting at the skin until blood had risen leaving behind  deep purple marks that looked rather painful. She was a withering mess underneath him, soft little moans falling from her swollen lips and thighs widening.

She was so compliant especially when he’d patted her thigh and she’d opened up to him without a single word. His fingers had grasped at the thin lace material of her panties too roughly and it had ripped. Y/N yelped and he didn’t know what to make of her face expression whether it was anger or disappointment that had shown, but he promised her he’d buy her more. Expensive lace just for his pretty girl.

Without waiting for a response, 2 fingers had slowly delved into her cunt. Long fingers forming a slow and torturous rhythm that had her wanting more. If this was his way of making her talk then he was on right track as her little whines grew the more he kept the same pace

“Faster.” Y/N pleaded, hands grasping at the sheets below her. He felt himself gloat as her soft voice egged him on, finally voicing out her needs. He’d given in, fingers pumping in and out of her in briskness all while loving the little sinful moans that she gave out. Within seconds, his tongue had taken place of his fingers licking a long patch of her pretty pussy before he brought them back inside her. Her cunt was soaking wet with her juices and she was so damn sweet. His tongue was swirling against her clit, a move that had her body shuddering in the process. His fingers continued their pace inside her while his tongue drew long licks on her little petal, sucking and swirling that within seconds she’d gripped his hair tightly and came without warning. She’d come right on his fingers, room filling with the sound of her cries. When he withdrew his fingers, glistening and sticky with her unbelievably sweet nectar, he licked a long stripe against her before coming up for air. He looked wildly erotic—hair unruly and mouth wet with the fruits of her orgasm.

When Bucky climbed his way back on top of her, she was breathing so hard her chest was heaving up and down, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, meanwhile her eyes were fluttering in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“Open your mouth.” Bucky ordered, voice laced with desire as he stared at the mess of a girl. Her brown eyes fluttered open again and with a bite of her lip, she opened her lips wide for him. Almost immediately his fingers were inside her mouth. He wanted her to taste herself, to taste how delicious she was.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. You like it? Like the way you taste?” God, he sounded so sexy. She hadn’t expected him to be such a talker, but he was making her skin tingle with just the sound of his voice and with the things he spewed out during their sinful acts. She moaned with his fingers in her mouth and gave a slight shake of her head to let him know that yes, she tasted damn sweet but that she was sure he tasted even better. At this thought, she grabbed hold of his arm and pushed his fingers out. Taking charge for the first time that night, she pushed him on his back. His olive skin meeting the black silk of his sheets.

Mischievous burnt sienna eyes peered up at him as she removed his boxers causing the thick bulge to spring out. He was so big and thick in her hands, and she thought of how much discomfort the stretch would be just taking him.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, dainty hand wrapping around the thick shaft moving up and down. He was groaning above, husky and loud. It drove her hand to move faster against him, a line of precum already seeping from the swollen head. It was so enticing seeing the milky substance leaking from him that her head bowed and lips wrapped around the very tip. Tongue swirling against the tiny hole before she sucked it savoring the salty taste of him. She began to bob her head down the thickness of his cock, unable to take him all but making sure what she couldn’t take her hand would. He was just so damn big, she wanted to take him all but when he hit the back of her throat her eyes had watered and her throat hadn’t allowed more to fit in. But he seemed satisfied as his hand tangled itself in hair, urging her to keep the same momentum. Her red lips sucking him , coating him in her saliva. Almost too soon, he’d pulled her off him and pushed her on top of him. Swollen lips meeting in the middle, fervent and needy. She tasted like him but he didn’t care.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft again, pumping him once more before she lined up to her entrance. She pushed herself down slowly, taking him inside her warmth. It was an uncomfortable stretch, the dull ache clear on her face as she grimaced. She took her time, barely moving for a good few seconds before she felt his hands on her hips. Kneading the soft skin there, almost as if pleading for her to move. With the tips of her feet on both sides of him, she began a slow up and down movement. He watched as her pussy devoured his dick, disappearing inside her.

Her breathy moans, shaky feet and slow movements were driving him wild. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed. Bucky’s hips had began bucking up, fucking into her desperate to feel more of her tightness. It wasn’t long before he’d taken the reigns again and her body was shaking above him, helplessly taking the deep thrusts.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl. Your tight pussy can take this dick right, baby girl?”

“Si papi.” Bucky’s ears had perked up at the naughty words. She’d called him daddy in Spanish and it had his dick twitching inside her. He could just cum at the sound of that word.

“Shit, call me that again baby girl.” He pleaded, breathing loud as his thrusts continued to piston inside her before he came to a momentary pause. He pushed her body backwards, her back hitting the silk sheets with a small thud. He lined himself at her wet pussy and drove forward again, feeling her tightness engulf him.

“Fuck me papi. Fuck me hard.” She was driving him wild with her velvety voice and the vice grip her cunt had him in. He began with full rough thrusts, the sound of skin slapping filling the large hotel room. Her breasts were bouncing before him, gaining the attention of his lips and his mouth wrapped around her nipple before he gazed at her neck. Ladened with purple marks from his mouth, he wrapped his large hand around it. He’d taken her aback, eyes rolling as her breathing was slightly restricted. He was still fucking her to the brink of insanity and with the added pressure on her neck, she felt the familiar heat building within her stomach, balling up in a crazed manner. He pushed himself inside her with need, wanting her to break apart in front of him so he could follow suit with his own pent up orgasm.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming.” She yelped, voice hoarse with his grip on her neck. She was spasming underneath, tears rolling down her reddened cheeks as she felt the wave of ecstasy shake through her. Her cunt had tightened around his dick, still moving inside her, but the constriction had unexpectedly gotten him to the edge too. He felt himself come with hot spurts inside her, a loud groan slipping past his lips. His stomach shuddered, heaving heavily. He felt as if she’d milked him of all he had.

She grimaced when he pushed himself from her and collapsed beside her. She was spent, sore limbs and a terrible ache between her thighs she knew she’d be spending the night. There was no way she’d make it home without falling asleep. She turned to look at him, and he did too , sharing drained smiles. Noticing her eyes fluttering close, he pecked her lips softly, a stark difference from the roughness of their previous acts.

“I’ll take you to buy new panties tomorrow.” Was the last thing he said, before she succumbed to sleep.

oooooof, this took me hours to write but I felt so inspired. I watched the devil all the time and I, Tonya again (the mustache really does it for me honestly, he’s so hot)  and I was like lemme just write a mob bucky one-shot. 

Any tips or comments, lemme know. Hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. can someone please tell me they’re as disgustingly obsessed with Lee Bodecker as I am, I’m literally burning inside. The little pouch and the PEPSI CUP. OMFGGGGG

[massivedrickhead]

ive been obsessed with the Olympics and can totally picture beca being an Olympic skateboarder for some reason? please could you do bechloe at the Olympics?

Read on AO3

Chloe knew that the cameras would find her in the stand, so she tried to keep the fear and, let’s admit it, lust off her face.

The fans loved hers and Beca’s relationship, and she knew the commentators would make a point to mention it.

How often did it happen that two Olympic athletes fell in love with each other? Yes, the Olympic village was usually a sex fest, but that didn’t always translate into long lasting relationships.

Not that Beca and Chloe had met in the Olympic village, for one this was the first time that skateboarding was an Olympic event. They had met at a party almost five years ago, introduced by mutual friends, and now here they were. Engaged to be married.

Chloe, at her second Olympic Games, had secured herself 2 medals for swimming - a silver medal in women’s 50m freestyle and a bronze in the 4x100m relay - and now Beca was about to skate in her first Olympic final.

And as calm and collected as Beca looked, rolling her board back and forth beneath her foot, Chloe couldn’t have been more nervous.

And watching Beca lift the bottom of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her eyes, showing off her toned stomach in the process, her tattooed arms visible thanks to her rolled up sleeves, Chloe couldn’t have been more turned on.

Chloe saw her crack a joke at Emily - the other American competitor - and then it was her turn to skate.

There would be three runs, the highest score wins. Beca would be the last to skate each time.

She watched Beca wave at the crowd, and roll her shoulders back a few times.

She had come off her board a few months ago, and Chloe knew her shoulder was still giving her trouble.

And then she was off, moving quickly around the Park course.

A DJ was playing music, but Chloe knew Beca had her own AirPods in, hidden under her helmet.

The commentator was calling out the tricks as she did them, but Chloe couldn’t follow along.

She knew there were some grinds, some flips, some grab tricks, but if she’s honest she’d never quite understood all the names of all the tricks. She’d tried to learn, and Beca had tried to explain it, but it just never sunk in.

Beca’s first run was almost at an end and then the board got away from her, and she hit the ground, skidding on her knees.

Chloe heard her shout of frustration from the stands, so she knew the cameras picked it up too.

Beca got up, grabbed her board, and skated out, back towards the other competitors.

They all patted her back, and Emily gave her a hug and said something that made her laugh.

Chloe watched as she took off her helmet and took a drink, her eyes never leaving the scoreboard.

Her score was okay, not medal winning, but not terrible. Beca nodded to herself, and then shrugged at the camera when she realised it was on her.

Sensing an opportunity, she picked up her board and flashed her ‘Trans Lives Matter’ sticker at the camera, hoping it got on TV before it cut away to the next competitor.

From the stands, Chloe continued to watch her with pride. She watched her talking with her coach and joking with the other athletes, and all she wanted to do was run down there and kiss her.

“Which is exactly why you’ll be in the stands and not sitting with the coaches,” Beca had told her the night before. “How am I meant to concentrate if I know you’re there waiting to kiss me?”

Beca’s second run was up, and this time Beca aimed her wave directly at Chloe. She made a heart sign with her hands that Chloe returned eagerly, before blowing her a kiss.

A few years ago, Beca might have complained that Chloe was ruining her street-cred, but she was past the point of caring about that now.

Her second run went much better, and she stayed on her board the entire time.

Her score shot her into first place, gold medal position.

Chloe was on her feet screaming and cheering as she watched Beca get mobbed by the other skaters. Emily was practically jumping on her back despite being a solid foot taller than her, and the American fans around Chloe were drowning out the commentators.

Once the cheering had calmed down, Chloe saw Beca wipe her face on her shirt again, this time to get rid of tears, not sweat.

This was more than Beca had expected. More than any of them had expected. She wasn’t predicted to be in the top 5, let alone gold medal position.

Chloe knew Beca was aiming for bronze at best. The two kids from Japan were going to dominate it, according to Beca, and Emily was predicted to place higher than her.

Watching the other girls skate was now almost as nerve wracking as watching Beca skate.

Predictably, the two Japanese girls crushed it, but Beca was still holding onto bronze.

On her final run, Emily fell, and remained in fourth place. Beca gave her a tight hug, and a small kiss on the side of the head. Chloe knew better than to feel jealous. They had been best friends for longer than Chloe had known either of them, and they saw each other as sisters.

Finally, it was time for Beca’s final run.

“Come on Beca,” Chloe muttered, not bothering to keep the fear from her face now.

Beca had a shot at gold, she was only a couple of points away. Chloe watched as she glanced over to her coach and nodded, and her stomach twisted.

That nod meant pull out all the stops. It meant trying tricks that were a bit more risky. More dangerous but, if she pulled them off, more impressive.

Beca was guaranteed a medal, but now she was about to find out which colour.

Chloe held her breath as Beca dropped into the course.

It was all going well. Beca was executing her tried and tested tricks without fault, but Chloe knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with that.

She watched as Beca shot up into the air, her knees close to her chest, her hand on her board, as she spun in mid air.

And then as Beca came down, the board slipped from underneath her and she fell backwards, her helmeted head hitting the concrete wall of the drop. Hard.

Chloe didn’t remember standing up and gripping the edge of the railings as she waited for Beca to get up. She also didn’t remember running down the stairs of the stands, pushing past people in order to get onto the course.

She definitely didn’t know how she got down the surprisingly intimidating drop to where Beca was currently lying, but she was at Beca’s side quicker than she thought possible.

She was awake, blinking slowly against the bright sunlight, but she didn’t seem to register that Chloe was there.

“Bec?”

“Don’t move her!”

Chloe turned to see Beca’s coach and the medic hurrying towards them.

“Ow,” Beca muttered.

“Beca!” Chloe said, tears of relief flowing down her cheeks. “You scared me, you asshole!”

With the help of the medic, Beca sat up, and they gently took off her helmet. “I didn’t get gold then?” She asked as they shone a small torch in her eyes

“No,” Chloe said, half crying, half laughing. “But you did make me look like a crazy person. How the fuck am I gonna be able to get out of here?”

“Hey, there are kids about,” Beca said, grinning and gesturing to the other competitors who were looking at her with genuine fear in their eyes. “And TV cameras. You’re gonna get a reputation as the bad girl of competitive swimming.”

“Shut up,” Chloe said. Now that the medics had moved out of the way, Chloe cupped Beca’s face in her hands. “Are you okay?”

Beca shrugged. “I fell off. No biggie.”

“Are you okay, though?”

“Well that depends, how many of you are there meant to be?” Beca asked, before letting out a snort of laughter at the panic on Chloe’s face. “I’m kidding! I’m fine. I’m just hurting a lot, all over.”

“Can you stand, Beca?” The medic asked.

“I think so,” Beca said. Chloe stood and held out her hands for Beca to take. Beca did, and Chloe pulled her to her feet. “You’re so strong.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said.

Beca was a little wobbly on her feet, but she still made sure to wave at the crowd and give them a thumbs up.

“Did I just win a fucking bronze medal at the Olympics?” She asked Chloe quietly, watching the fans cheering after she and Chloe were helped out of the course.

“Yep,” Chloe said, allowing herself to relax a little. “That’s really very sexy of you.”

“I know right?” Beca said, grinning as she draped her arms around Chloe’s shoulder again. “I’ve always said bronze was the sexiest medal.”

“And silver, obviously,” Chloe said as someone wrapped an American flag over their shoulders.

“Obviously.”

“Do you have your Pride flag with you?” Chloe asked.

“Obviously,” Beca said again, grinning as she pulled Chloe over to her bag so she could fish it out.

“Can the cameras see us here?”

“Dunno.”

“Eh, who cares,” Chloe said, before pulling Beca into a bruising kiss.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, got any good old (maybe new?) bedsharing fics for a fanfic obsessed lurker?

Thanks 😘

Hey Nonny!!

Hahha! I actually just did a list recently of my old ones, but I just double-checked my offline lists and I actually DO have some fics on my next Bed Sharing list, so GUESS WHAT? Your ask is the one to start the next Bed Sharing one, LOL.

As usual, if anyone has any they’d like to add, especially if they’re brand new fics, let us know! <3

BEDSHARING Pt. 5

See also:

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing “Just Happens”

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind.

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It's because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

The Myth by AGirloftheSouth (M, 4,329 w., 1 Ch || Sex Toys / Anal Beads, PWP, Romance, Bottom John, Prostate Stimulation) – Sherlock believes something to be a myth. John proves him wrong.

When We Sleep by PrincessNala (K+, 6,660 w., 1 Ch || Post-TGG,  Alternating POV, Bed Sharing, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Hugs) – Sherlock needed to feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was the only way to completely assure himself that John was alive and right there next to him, and not dead, no, never dead…

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[gemmaswriting]

Anidala Fanfiction Recommendations!!

I’ve been asked for a long time for my fanfiction recommendations, so I’ve finally taken the time to compile them. If there are any you love that I missed out (this includes Vaderdala!) leave them as a reply so we can all have a good time reading together. 

Writer: Shelivesfree (fanfiction profile) This wonderful girl has some of the most amazing Anidala stories I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Unfortunately, a lot of them have been hiatus for a while but her Boy Next Door trilogy has two amazing parts completed. 

The stories I recommend: 

“The Boy Next Door”: “When Padme Naberrie returns to her home after 10 years, the last thing she expects to find is her childhood friend, Anakin Skywalker; the boy next door. But 10 years is a long time, and he has changed more than she is prepared for. How will she react when little Ani is now a grown man, impulsive, handsome and completely infatuated with her? Modern AU.”

“The Girl from Harvard”: “Sequel to ‘The Boy Next Door’ Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes it grow more paranoid. Padme is in her last year of Harvard. Anakin has just started at the University of Chicago. Though they won't admit it, their long-distance relationship is taking it's heavy toll. Will their love prevail or will the distance prove too much for both of them? Sequel to The Boy Next Door. Modern AU.”

“look into my eyes, that's where my demons hide”:  ”Each time he comes back to her, a little piece of him is missing... left out there, in the field, with his brothers. She can see it in the way he smiles and it doesn't reach his eyes. In the way he cries to himself when he thinks she's not awake. And all she can do is hold him. Modern AU.”

“I Know Your Type”  “Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"

“we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love?” “Rhythmic Gymnast Padme Naberrie has dreamed of being an Olympian since she was five years old. Now, after years and years of training and preparations, she's finally made it to Rio, and nothing is going to stand in the way between her and a gold medal. Except a certain Canadian beach volleyball player, perhaps.”

“Infinite” “ My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

“for a moment” “And, just for a moment, all the worries and concerns that troubled the young couple cease to exist. Fade away to just this. Husband and wife. Asleep. Dreaming of the sweet little life they will soon bring into the world and into their hearts. Set somewhere in ROTS.”

“Procrastination” “Padmé is busy with a new bill she must bring before the next Senate meeting. Her husband has other ideas, it would seem.”

“There’s a million reasons I should give you up”  “Padmé struggles to deal with Anakin's frequent departures for weeks, even months, at a time during the Clone Wars. It's in these moments she contemplates the practicality of their marriage. Grief-stricken with loneliness, she stumbles across something she wrote a long time ago... a list of sorts. The find brings about a whole host of emotions she'd rather not deal with.”

“all I need is you” “It was her fault. His pain, his jealousy, his insecurity. It was all her fault. Padme looked up at the beautiful man in front of her, her husband, her Ani, and decided she needed to make him remember. Remind him of how much she loved him. Because no one, no man in the entire galaxy, could take the place of Anakin Skywalker.” 

“Her” “A glimpse into the Cosmic Force after Darth Vader's redemption and return to the Light Side. Anakin Skywalker is consumed by guilt and Obi-wan and Yoda are there to appease him. But it's been twenty-four years and all he wants is to see her.” 

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  Writer: SphinxScribe (Fanfiction profile/ Tumblr account @sphinxscribe ) This fantastic writer has many, many alternate takes on the plot of Revenge of the Sith - often allowing our favourite couple to have a happy ending. Their writing captures the world of Star Wars perfectly. 

The stories I recommend: 

“Where Catalysts Stand Down” “Palpatine issues Order 66, and Anakin and Padmé flee Coruscant. ROTS AU. Anakin/Padmé, Anidala.”

“Viability’s Edge” “Anakin tells Obi-Wan the truth. ROTS AU. Anakin/Padmé, Anidala.”

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Writer: Disco Shop Girl (Fanfiction profile) This writer’s take on Anidala is so well written within every story of theirs I have read. They truly capture their dynamic and relationship perfectly. 

The stories I recommend:

“Your helmet cracked” “He'd been restrained, forced to watch while her helmet cracked and the Mon Calamari sea water threatened to drown her before his eyes. Now they're free. And alone. Set at the end of the Clone Wars season 4 Water War arc.” 

“Order 66-S” “The order was to exterminate all Jedi: Past, Present and Future. Captain Rex has a different plan. Order 66-S: to save General Skywalker.”

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Writer: Rogue Darth Skywalker (Fanfiction profile/ Tumblr - @roguedarthskywalker) This wonderful person has been one of the biggest supporters of my own writing for a long time and I value them immensely! They have many delicious Anidala/Vaderdala stories for you to obsess over for hours and hours. I highly recommend following both profiles linked above.

The stories I recommend:

“Pin up Problems” “He hated the nose art. He hated seeing others degrade her other exceptional qualities by depicting her as some pin up girl. He hated thinking about how many other beings across the stars fantasized about her in such a way. At the same time, he can't deny that the art makes her look… hot. He can't deny that the sight turns him on.”

“Letting Go” “It was their custom. Every year on that fateful day, Anakin would make his way to the cemetery with his children and seek out the mausoleum where she rested."

“Far from Perfect” “Darth Vader is dead. Anakin is redeemed and lives on Naboo with Padme and their children. But not all happy endings are perfect.”

“Far from Easy” “Sequel to Far From Perfect. Redeemed Anakin Skywalker tries to make things right with his wife and kids.

“Perfect” “Happy Family style AU post ROTS. Padme wakes up in the middle of the night and ponders the most recent events in her life.”

“A Dangerous Fantasy” “Pure Smut. Padme helps Anakin fulfil a fantasy he has had since they were married- one that involves the Jedi Council Chambers.”

“Untitled” “Anakin and Padme deal with having to tell their young twins they are having another baby.”

“Strictly Professional” “There are times she hates that she has to resort to this- that rather than being in a long term relationship with someone, she chose to instead pay someone for sex. Modern AU.”  

“Out of his Depth” “I fought in a war. I commanded legions of soldiers against battle droids. I think I can handle my own four-year-old twins."

“Love and Jealousy” “Anakin gave the binders an experimental tug, testing his chances of escaping. There was none. A light chuckle left his lips after a few moments, letting his head fall back to rest on the chair. What a compromising position for a Jedi Knight to be in. Handcuffed in a respected senator's bedchambers practically naked… oh, how the holonews would rave should the story get out!” 

“Against all Odds” “He shouldn't be here. The election was only a few weeks away and the final debate was due in the next few days. There were so many other things he should be doing. He shouldn't be here, in enemy territory wrapped in the arms of the woman his boss despised. Modern AU. Smut.” 

“What we Hope is Never Found” “The impending existence of a recording of them together held dangers that went a little deeper than if they were found naked and tangled together in her office or on his cruiser. The physical proof of their relationship would cause an uproar if it were discovered. But she trusted Anakin. Smut.”

“It was Found” “Sequel to What We Hope is Never Found.”

“Things that go bump in the night” “Luke and Leia think there is a ghost in their home. Their parents know better.”

“Preparations” “She couldn't wait to meet their little ones. It hadn't been too long since they learned she was having twins, and as stressful as that idea was at first, she was quickly growing accustomed to the idea of having two perfect little babies. Her husband, however, seemed to be taking it a little worse than her.” 

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Writer: Skywalkersamidala (Archive of our Own profile/ Tumblr @markantonys) I absolutely adore the Anidala stories created by this author whether they’re aus or canon! They nail the couple’s dynamic throughout their many wonderful stories. 

The stories I recommend:

“Snow Place like Home” “For genre-typical convoluted reasons involving ill-timed blizzards, Padmé is forced to spend the holidays at Anakin's house. Anakin isn't as upset about his boss staying with him for Christmas as he probably should be.“

“Soulmates R Us” “Anakin works at a toy store, and single-mother-of-twins Padmé is becoming one of the store's best customers.”

“Heirs of Light and Darkness” “After escaping the Jedi purge two years ago made him the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy, Anakin Skywalker has at last been captured by the Empire. He expects to be killed, but Lady Padmé Amidala, the imperial heir, has other ideas.”

“Friendly Competition” “Playing Quidditch is awfully difficult when you’re in love with the rival Seeker. Snapshots of Anakin and Padmé’s 7 years at Hogwarts.“

“Perfect” “The war is over, Luke and Leia are five years old, and Anakin and Padmé finally have the peaceful life and big family they've always dreamed of. But their life is about to get a little less peaceful and their family a little bigger.“

“Nos Cedamus Amori“ “Anakin is a gladiator and a slave. Padmé is the wife of the Roman emperor's heir. Circumstances should never even allow them to meet, let alone fall in love.“

“I Do Take Two” “Thirty years after their clandestine wedding on Naboo, Anakin and Padmé decide to finally do the proper wedding ceremony they never got to have, with all their friends and family present.“

“Flat Tire” “Who knew something as simple as getting a flat tire could change the entire course of your life?“

“Strays” “Anakin had always had a penchant for taking in strays.”

“Five weddings and a funeral” “Padmé's feeling gloomy about her perpetual singleness, but everything changes when she meets an attractive stranger at her sister's wedding.“

“Pipe Dream” “Padmé's new plumber is the most attractive human being she's ever laid eyes on, so naturally, she keeps faking plumbing emergencies so she can keep seeing him.“

“Birthdays and Birth days” “Anakin gets a birthday surprise — two of them, in fact.“

“Spouses with Benefits” “Anakin and Padmé wake up after a wild night in Vegas and discover they accidentally got married—and that Ahsoka posted about it all over social media, so now every single person they know is texting and calling them to offer congratulations. They decide to save face by pretending the marriage was totally 100% intentional and not a drunk mistake at all, keeping up the charade for six months, and then quietly getting divorced. But a lot can change in six months…“

“Two Halves Make a Whole” “Anakin is the single dad of Luke. Padme is the single mom of Leia. Luke and Leia meet in kindergarten and become best friends. The rest is history.“

“Home” “In which "Darth Vader" is no more than Anakin's playtime alter ego (happy Skywalker family AU)“

“Someday” “At age fourteen, Padme receives a marriage proposal from the nine-year-old boy next door and tells him to ask her again when she's thirty. Surely he'll have forgotten all about it by then.“

“Across the Centuries” “They meet each other in every century, but something always goes wrong before they can make it to happily-ever-after.”

“Madam President” “Between late nights and headaches and mountains of paperwork and fierce opposition from her political opponents, President Padmé Amidala already had enough on her plate. And then she just had to go and fall for one of her bodyguards, a relationship which would ruin her reputation and his career if anyone were to find out about it. Also, someone's trying to kill her.“

“Scars” “How do Anakin and Padmé go from "I love you" to "I do"? Missing scene from Attack of the Clones.”

“The Bet” “Anakin's had a crush on Padmé since fourth grade, and after putting up with his pining for seven years, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are finally stepping in and making a bet that he can't ask her to junior prom in the spring. Meanwhile, Padmé is realizing that Anakin isn't as annoying as she'd always thought. In fact, her feelings towards him are starting to go in quite the opposite direction...”

“Three” “His and Padmé’s first wedding anniversary isn’t going nearly as well as Anakin had hoped it would. Until, suddenly, it’s so much better than he could have ever imagined.“

“The Anakin Disaster” “Padmé is mortified upon waking up beside her strictly platonic childhood best friend Anakin Skywalker the morning after a drunken one-night stand. A couple weeks later, she discovers that's the least of their problems.“

“Will You Fake Marry Me?” “Anakin's boss may or may not have accidentally given her family the impression that she's engaged to him. Anakin may or may not be pleased about the situation”

“Aggressive Negotiations” “Empress Amidala invites Lord Vader to her private rooms to persuade him to form an alliance with the Empire. Her methods are very effective.”

“Troubling Implications” “Perhaps he hated himself for it—Padmé thought he probably did—but he came that night (several times, in fact). And the night after that, and the next one, and the next, until it became a habit that neither of them seemed especially inclined to break. (Sequel to "Aggressive Negotiations")

“Imperial Obligations” “Padmé's advisors suggest that she get rid of Vader and make a politically advantageous marriage. The Empress is less than pleased. (Sequel to "Aggressive Negotiations" and "Troubling Implications")”

“Welcome Home” “Anakin Skywalker closes his eyes on the face of his son. When he opens them again, he is in Naboo, and someone is waiting for him.“

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Writer: Shawn30 (Fanfiction profile) The one, the only, the deservedly famous! I think every Anidala fan is aware of this f a n t a s t i c writer’s work. Deliciously smutty. Unbelievably well written. Unfortunately, many of their works have been left uncompleted for years but the stories are still worth reading!

 “Whisper” “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but can also whither your soul and breed doubt in your heart. AP angsty erotica.”

“The Ties that Bind” “Given a brief period of time off during the Clone Wars, Padmé and Anakin visit her family at the Lake Country estate on Naboo. A family that still doesn't know they are married, although they are about to find out. Complete.” 

“The Light and the Dark” “Chapter 1 in the Hearts and Souls series. An unexpected Separatist attack 'accidentally' reunites two star-crossed lovers, giving them a brief moment of peace at a time of war. Complete.”

“Shadows of Winter” “Chapter 2 in the Hearts and Souls series. With six days to spend together celebrating their two year anniversary, Anakin and Padme travel separately to a remote planet in the Hoth system. Romance, passion, and danger await them. Complete.” 

 “Beloved” “Chapter 3 in the "Hearts and Souls" series. When faced with the most horrific news imaginable, Padme's utter desperation forces her to turn to Obi-Wan and even Chancellor Palpatine for help. Her greatest personal challenge awaits... Complete” 

 “Paradise” “The sequel to "Beloved." Following Padme's daring rescue of her husband, the Skywalker's return to Naboo for eight days to heal, unwind, spend time with family, and deal with their connection to the Dark Side of the Force.” 

 “Salvation” “After facing his moment of truth, Anakin and Padmé must finally deal with the consequences. Obi-Wan reveals a startling discovery. Complete” 

“Scandalous” “The sequel to Salvation. On the eve of Padmé Skywalker's official ascension to the role of Vice Chair of the Republic, Anakin steals her away for a wild vacation to Cloud City. Complete.”

“Sacred” “Chapter 2. Ahsoka and Jo'Seth grow closer. Padme's trip to the Jedi Temple on Republic business turns a bit more adventurous. Anakin and Obi-Wan have a heart to heart talk about moving forward.”

“Belonging” “A private afternoon lunch to catch up with an old friend during the Clone Wars reveals a great deal to ObiWan Kenobi. AP”

“Before the Seasons Change” “With the Darth Sidious finally defeated and the Clone Wars ended, Anakin and Padme consider what comes next in their lives. Anakin/Padme”

“Amor Vincit Omnia” “AU. After a three and a half year separation Vice Chair Amidala and Jedi Master Skywalker have some unfinished business as the Clone Wars have finally ended and Palpatine is dead.”

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If there’s any stories I missed, let me know!

[leisurelypanda]

Imagine pre-serum Steve visiting his local pool to learn how to swim properly and get his strength up, trying to avoid getting too distracted by the gorgeous blonde musclegod who serves as lifeguard. One day, the lifeguard approaches Steve as he's catching his breath, introducing himself as Thor and offering to help with his lessons. He's a friend of the owner, he explains, and can get Steve in after closing so that he won't have to deal with the crowds. Steve agrees and returns the next evening, his heart racing when he sees Thor waiting for him in the water, muscles bulging and glistening, wearing a tight red speedo that leaves little to the imagination. He's profoundly grateful that he has the lessons to channel his pent-up desire into, the two of them becoming friends as the weeks pass and Steve gets better and better.

One evening, they're making great progress, with Steve breaking his record on the number of lengths he can swim. He's resting with his arms folded on the side of the pool, out of breath, but glowing with pride and adrenaline, when he feels Thor come up behind him, arms braced on the pool's edge to box Steve in. He feels Thor's cock, hard as a rock and so thick and long, pressing against his ass through the thin layers of fabric. His heart in his mouth, Steve slowly turns his head back to meet Thor's hungry gaze as his hands move, one tilting Steve's chin up for a searing kiss as the other pushes down into his shorts to start stroking his cock.

Mmmm yes, this is lovely! I love the idea of Thor being super proud and having a competency kink for pre-serum Steve improving his skills. 

I imagine Steve being 18 or 19 here, and having spent his high school years being picked on because he's so scrawny. However, now that he's graduated, he has a bit more time on his hands, so he decides that he wants to get stronger somehow. Weights have never been his thing, though, so he starts learning how to swim. He doesn't have the money to spend on swim lessons, so he just goes to the local pool to teach himself.

The only problem is the presence of a lifeguard who's distractingly handsome. He looks like he's a few years older than Steve, maybe 25 at the oldest.. He has a gorgeous smile that he directs towards Steve every time they see each other. Steve can't help but wish that he could learn how to swim from this man.

It takes about 2 weeks of regularly going to the pool for the lifeguard to introduce himself. Steve has just finished swimming a few laps and he's pretty tired. His name is Thor. His father and the pool owner are friends, so he offers to help Steve learn how to swim after hours so Steve won't have to deal with people getting in the way. Steve agrees immediately.

The first thing Thor does is teach him stretches to help himself warm up and cool down. Steve can't help but be distracted, especially since Thor is wearing a bright red speedo. Everything is on display, from Thor's impressive shoulders, chest, and arms to his long, muscular legs. And of course, there's his glorious ass and the package that bulges against the poor, innocent fabric of the speedo. Steve can't look away, but he somehow manages to do the stretches every night.

Thor is a surprisingly good teacher, even considering the fact that Steve finds him distracting. He's patient and thorough. He teaches Steve freestyle first, then the backstroke, the breaststroke, the sidestroke, and lastly, the butterfly. Steve struggles with the butterfly the most due to his lack of upper body strength. He prefers freestyle and he's not surprised that Thor is amazing at the butterfly.

Steve gradually becomes stronger and grows in endurance. The longer the lessons last, the more they learn about each other. Steve learns that Thor has been swimming and training his entire life to be an Olympic swimmer. He’s been giving lessons ever since he was 16 and been a lifeguard since he was 18. He missed making the Olympic team four years ago due to a minor foot injury that kept him from attending the tryouts. This year, though, he intends to make the team. 

Steve fully believes he can do it. One day, Thor takes him to a different pool (that his dad’s friend also owns, because that’s apparently his thing). It’s far longer than the pool Thor’s been teaching Steve how to swim in. It’s 50 meters long, for starters, and 3 meters deep. It makes diving fun, of course, and watching Thor dive into the pool and swim to the other side as fast as he can is always incredible. Their lessons start taking place here and Steve always arrives early to watch Thor practice. When he asks how Thor still has the energy to teach him, Thor merely laughs and tells him that the lessons are essentially a way to cool down for him. 

A few months after their lessons started, Steve is able to exceed his previous record. He’s not very fast, but he’s been able to build up his endurance. He’s able to swim 1000 meters one evening without Thor’s assistance. it took him a while, but he was able to make it. He’s exhausted by the end of it, but when he stops, he clings to the pools edge in the shallow end of the pool. As he’s catching his breath, he feels a pair of arms surround him from either side. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know it’s Thor. What he wasn’t expecting was for him to feel Thor press his cock against his ass, or for it to be rock hard. 

A moment later, he feels Thor’s mouth on his neck, sucking and kissing against him. Thor murmurs his praises into Steve’s ear as his hands wander down Steve’s body. Steve is gasping for a whole different reason now and he doesn’t want to stop. 

Thor takes care of everything. It’s after hours and they’re the only ones in the pool now. They’re the only ones in the building. Their kissing each other passionately without a care in the world, particularly not about the fact that they’re technically supposed to be closing up. 

Thor’s cock is even bigger than Steve expected it would be. The stretch as it enters his ass is indescribable. Steve is sure that he won’t be able to walk tomorrow. He can’t bring himself to stop, though. He pushes back against Thor, down onto his cock. He sucks on Thor’s fingers as he moans and he can taste the chlorine from the water. 

It’s impossible to say how long they fucked in the pool. If Thor wasn’t holding him, then Steve was clinging to the edge of the pool, bent over as Thor hammered into him. The water sloshed over them, making shallow waves from their movements. Finally, when Thor comes, he shoots his load deep into Steve’s ass. Steve comes at the same time, his own come bursting out into the water. 

They’re both gasping for breath now. Thor’s cock is still inside Steve’s body, still hard. He grins warmly as he congratulates Steve on beating his record. 

One unexpected result of their little sexcapade is that they’ve both lost their swimming gear. There’s a certain thrill in having to swim naked to retrieve them from where they had floated to the other end of the pool. Thor doesn’t bother putting his on, though, and walks completely naked to the locker room. Steve decides to follow suit. They dress together and close up the pool. Thor leads Steve to his apartment, where they pick up where they left off. Neither of them swims that day, but they get other forms of exercise. Steve appreciates seeing how well the muscles he’s developed from swimming come in handy in Thor’s bedroom as he rides Thor’s cock all night. 

Thor does eventually make the Olympic swim team. Steve is there to cheer him on. Thor makes waves during the next Olympics both for being an impeccable specimen and for proposing to Steve immediately after he wins the gold medal in the butterfly. The two of them become an internet sensation overnight, and they celebrate by having sex once again in a pool, though a private one, this time.