#noticeable but i can use this muscle memory to my advantage it’s like being able to write w my left hand now. use it to ur advantage. fool

[bibleofficial]

did yall know fixing ur gait is fucking painful & it makes u look like an alien inhabiting a human suit trying to walk ‘normally’ for the first time

[mintytealfox]

I'd love to hear what you think are the biggest insecurities for each of the Da Capo members!

awweee hheellllzzz yeeeaaaaa 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌 Here are some of my initial thoughts 👀👏👏👏👏👏

Norton:

-I feel like Norton wants to be perceived but NOT at the same time lol, he wants his MASK (what he is working so hard to portray) to be perceived not the REAL him or what he is really thinking. So there could be this underlying gnawing that people are seeing through cracks in his mask that he doesn't know about. Worried he isn't masking well enough. -I think he is insecure about his body and how lean it is. Knowing that he should be bulkier but not having enough food for his muscles to be as they should with how hard he works. But he can also use that to his advantage cause it makes it easier for people to underestimate him and his abilities. But it would still suck and not feel good to not be where he thinks he should. -Insecure about eating. He doesn't care about people watching and such, (poor looks his way just fuels his rage and he welcomes that) just insecure about not completely knowing which certain foods will make him sick, cause he might just have to find out the hard way what his body can handle and what it can't. To eat something he always wanted to try only to end up bent over a bucket later cause its such a shock to his system orz

Alice:

-To be perceived as insane. Those at the orphanage treated her poorly (understatement of the century) because of it, she can't risk that again. I wonder and worry that if she is described as 'insane' in earshot that she might go mute again for a short time involuntarily. I can see that as something she might have forgotten about or stopped worrying about for the most part, until she is reminded of it.

-And she probably doesn't want anyone to notice that she does have OCD and such. Since she tends to keep those tendencies limited to her things and her space. But her eyes might settle on something that is bothering her when she isn't on a mission that distracts her from all that. And maybe internally wincing when she realizes she let herself mentally slip.

Orpheus:

-I don't think Orpheus gives two cares about what people think and is pretty darn secure in what he is doing, EXCEPT for when it comes to Alice, I think. He might be worried that he won't ever find Alice again, and if he does, she won't recognize him or worse, won't remember him. That those precious moments were only precious to him. Him spending his entire life trying to get those precious memories back to reality only for him to be the only one that wants them. That would shatter him orz He claims everything he does is for Alice, so what happens when she doesn't care about everything he did for her. oooooh boi (he even tried to adopt her but was denied ah he was doing all he could this entire time ah)

Melly:

-Not having friends or many people in her life. She seems to have that desire and want, but is so jaded after everything that has happened in her life. She protects herself by not letting people see her or get to know her, but this self protection is also keeping her from that human connection that she would like.

-I can see her having some insecurity about her birthmark on her face, but I think she mostly doesn't want people to be able to read her.

-Then of course the given of doing all she can to dodge talking about her past. So that worry of any of that being talked about. Extremely insecure about who she was.

Frederick:

-Worried that he is unwanted, undesirable, by those he wants to care about him (so to protect himself he doesn't want people to care about him or let himself care about others). He has no trouble with ladies fawning over him but that isn't what he wants. He was abandoned and ignored. So if he ever runs into people that he would want to care about him, he might have that gnawing within him that they will abandon him one day, its inevitable.

-Concern that people can tell that he is troubled by thoughts and voices in his head (and worried that his secrets being perceivable in moments of weakness). He definitely wears a mask to seem untroubled and indifferent and simply passionate about music. But that passion is really being desperate to attain peace. And looking desperate isn't a good look. I think he did all he could to seem normal and not embarrass his family, so he has had plenty of practice creating an impressive mask for himself, only to be abandoned anyway (also adds to why I think he looks so exhausted all the time cause it is so draining to never be allowed to be yourself or rest from the voices. Constantly fighting to keep the mask from cracking uhg)

[manasurge]

GW2 30 Day Challenge

6. Favourite Elite spec?

(I couldn't find any fancy pics of my own to use, so instead have a couple angles of mirage cloak glitching out and turning the Mirage into an eternal swirling and glowing vortex. These are old screenshots before the Aurene mounts were released as well since I use those for my main) It's... Mirage!! (surprising to absolutely no one who knows me). I just LOVE being invulnerable and hard to hit, plus all the mobility that comes with the spec and the SUPER fast gameplay (I love very fast inputs and reactions, which makes playing slower classes difficult for me bc I'm impatient and spam click abilities lkdjflsf). Being able to jaunt/blink everywhere, shadowstep, clone+phantasm distractions, and evasion hax dodging (mirage cloak my beloved) made dodging part of my rotation, making me really dumb with a lot of other classes bc I instinctively want to dodge all the time due to muscle memory. Also fun fact: Mirage/Mesmer was the first spec that I used a 80-boost on, and I was able to learn it just fine! (and even became my favourite!) so boosting a class to learn it is totally okay in my opinion!! Just do cozy open world map comp to ease your way into it and it'll be cherry!

Granted I also don't exactly play the class as intended. While I have 3 builds for her (guess I should say my main, Vespaura), I tend to just use her power build (since Mirage is moreso meant for Condi and boons or w/e, which I have builds for and also never use lol). I think this build I like to use was originally made for the Labyrinth (tagging everything with GS), but I tweaked it a bit with other preferences since it has pretty good survivability and is an absolute monster when I attack huge groups of mobs (Greatsword lasers are the best invention and it NEVER gets old. Also the amount of laser ricochet gets me pretty high damage and looks absolutely bonkers on my side (what a lightshow!), plus my lasers are HOMING lasers, which means they will automatically hit any enemies in the vicinity around me and helps out if I don't notice them from a different angle, allowing me to re-orient myself. I also don't have to worry too too much about aim bc of this too! (oh yeah, and especially with relics being a thing now. Mabon relic has been pretty neat so far cuz I can take advantage of that boost being used to hit all those targets!). Though power GS does fall a bit against single targets, but that's fine! (I sort of have the daggers for that at least!). I also play with a trackpad, which is a funny thing to tell ppl, especially when playing a class like Mirage, lol. I just hate using a mouse and only have it for certain games that force me to use it. I just don't want carpel tunnel and my wrist is more relaxed this way (never had problems! so far at least). I just love playing at ranged with non-ranged weapons (Greatswords, daggers. Mine actually has all 3 types of blades (very lesbian of her) bc she has a sword as well. I literally gave her both of Caithe's weapons askjflfj. I'm so glad that I can give my Mirage daggers now!! much more fun than another sword/axe!). It's just so much fun, and I CAN'T WAIT to see what rifle is gonna be like!! I just love ranged classes bc stacking ALWAYS gets me killed constantly... so yeah I'm the annoying person who doesn't like stacking bc I'd rather not be dead!!!!! (I'm sorry I just HATE stacking. I can't see SHIT and it's just so much visual noise for me!! let me breathe!!) and plus I revive everyone in fights thanks to invulnerabilities allowing me to rez through attacks. You're welcome!!! (I rez so many people during metas and other fights) I also just love Mesmer in a class in general bc it's unique in comparison to a lot of other fantasy classes, and I just adore the concept and the aesthetics (flamboyant fancy dramatic magic user? HELL YEAH. Literally the gayest magic user ever and I'm eating it up). I also love the ability to make clones and all the pretty butterflies, and phantasms and all that! I know a lot of ppl don't like clones/phantasms, but they save my ass every time and I appreciate them very much.

[mrpenguinpants]

Xiao: Fainting HCS

FUCK. I FORGOT TO POST THIS EARLIER. AHHHH. I HAVE WORK IN LIKE 2 MINUTES SO I’LL BE BACK TO REPLY TO EVERYONE. 

Hey anon! So sorry it took me forever to finish writing this but good luck if you’re planning on pulling Xiao. I really wanted to finish writing this fic as an offering to the gacha gods that c1 xiao wants to bless me (even tho that’s not gonna happen). But good luck to everyone rolling today^^.

Disclaimer: I have not watch anything about Xiao because my hype can only take so much. This was written before 1.3. So if I get anything wrong or I’m missing something. That’s why.

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Can I just say how far Xiao has come in my writing since the first part of the semi series? Sniff, feel like we’re making character development for a character that’s not even out yet. I can’t wait for mihoyo to take my HCS and rip them apart.

Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

​  @hanniejji​@mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​ @nonniechan​​ @snowy224 @mayumintsu​ @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​ @legionqueensav​ @eva-0403 @youaskedfurret​ 

Xiao: Fainting HCS

Instant panic mode engaged. If you’ve ever doubted his adepti power of swiftness you’re about to be mistaken. He’s noticed that you seem a bit out of it but brushed it off as you being tired from your recent journey. If there was anything bothering you, you would tell him. But as he turned around to greet you back, it seems like time is slowing down for him. He sees how your eyes glazed over and become unfocused. The muscles in your body snap and you drop to the ground. He can feel his blood run cold as past memories that have been waiting to jump at him suddenly claw at him but he doesn’t even register them. He’s already running towards you.

He’s already caught you in his arms before you can even meet the wooden floor. His brain is racing as he quickly checks your pulse to make sure you didn’t suffer from a heart attack or a curse. He makes a quick search over your body to check for any injuries, he can already feel the red hot iron of anger fill his system at the thought of someone trying to take advantage of you or threaten you. He’s usually logical in these types of situations, even the death of Rex Lapis didn’t shock him this much, but he’s been battling his conflicting feelings ever since he met you. But now that he’s finally accepted you and himself, he wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you. His mind flashes to Guizhong before he shakes away the thought.

It doesn’t occur to him that you might be sick as he tries to shake you awake. Whatever teachings Guizhong and Morax have taught him fly out the window as he holds you so close to his chest, he’s pretty sure his grip on you is bruising. He knew mortal souls weren’t as strong as adepti and staying around one might cause sickness or even worse- death. Was this his fault? He can feel the drop in his stomach as he tries to reign in his emotions and powers, not here.

Verr almost screams when Xiao breaks the wooden ceilings and lands in front of her. She’s scared that there was a monster outbreak or something was wrong with Xiao before she notices your passed out form in his arms. As much as she likes to joke around and thinks your relationship with Xiao is cute, she knows that if anything came to seriously harm you she wouldn’t able to calm Xiao before he goes on a rampage. You mean so much to him and he hasn’t opened his heart to anyone except you.

She can tell he’s nearly past his breaking point as he looks at her with dilated eyes as he asks, no commands, her to help you. It’s such whiplash to her. Xiao’s always been polite and reserved that she almost forgets he used to be a demon slaying Yaksha, but this isn’t the time for her to worry about that. She quickly leads him to the backroom since there’s no way Xiao wouldn’t bite any hand that comes near you. Bless Verr’s heart since this isn’t the first time she’s had to handle Xiao’s outbreaks that she manages to save face and contact a doctor that was staying at the inn to look at you. She does feel a bit bad for the doctor who looks like he’s about to piss himself in fear as Xiao growls and watches the doctors every move with piercing yellow eyes.

Xiao is still wary when the doctor and Verr try to calm him down and examine you more closely, always flinching back whenever their hands get too close to you, letting out a dangerous hiss whenever there’s the slightest twitch of discomfort in your face when the doctor feels your heated forehead. As soon as the doctor concludes that you’ve been sick for the past few days and your body just needs to heal itself and recharge, the tension on Xiao’s shoulder loosens and the suffocating aura that’s been filling the room slowly filters out. Verr can’t help but sigh in relief but can’t bring herself to scold Xiao for breaking the inns roof as she watches him look over your form with worried eyes as he softly nudges your cheek. He’s still holding you but his grip has loosen slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. He breathes a sigh of relief as he rubs small circles in your hand. Xiao’s never been the most affectionate or shown to be the most caring but you’ve seriously scared him. She quietly leaves him be and closes the door as she begins to prepare to fix the damages.

Xiao never leaves your side as he waits for you to wake up. He can’t help but berate himself for not confronting you. The doctor said you would be fine but he can’t but imagine your body falling in a more violent scene. He quickly shakes those thoughts away as he paces around the room, sits besides you, then goes back to pacing. Usually he would go on a walk or beat his aggression out but he doesn’t want to leave you alone should you awake early.

Xiao doesn’t ramble about his day while you’re asleep, instead he just observes your features and the small movements you make to remind him that you’re okay. How your chest moves up and down as you breath or how your eyes sometimes scrunch in sleep. You’ve made him almost trip when you did it the first time since he thought you were waking up. He can’t help but think back to his fellow Yaksha’s and what they would say if they saw the way he was acting now.

Since his panic attack has mostly subsided he’s found himself growing more curious. He’s still worried about you but he’s managed to reason with himself that you’re okay, just sick which he’s going to scold you a bit for when you awake, so he softly brushes his fingers across your face. Before snatching his hand away in embarrassment. What the hell is he doing? Guizhong would slap him sideways if she saw him now. He huffs at himself as he deflates a little and rests his head on the bed beside your head. He’s patient. He will wait when your ready to wake up.

When you suddenly gain consciousness, it feels as if the entire world is weighing you down. You slowly blink open your eyes to see a worried Xiao hovering over you, his hands awkwardly in the air since he’s not sure if it’s okay to touch you.

“How are you feeling?” Xiao asks as his eyes dart all over the place before resting on your face. You’re still a bit out of it but you can tell he must have been really worried. You try to give him a small smile but with how scuffy you feel you can bet it’s not a pretty picture.

“Like I got slammed with one of Zhongli’s meteors,” you tried to laughed before coughing as Xiao quickly pressed a cup of water to your lips. Slowly letting you drink and calm down. 

“If you have time to make jokes then you’re alright” Xiao sighs before his features change slightly. His eyes glaze over in concern as a small frown appears. He really does look like a kicked kitten as he slumps over as the stress finally lifts as he feels your hand softly run through his hair.

“Sorry,” you say, he must have been so stressed out while you were passed out for him to look so exhausted. He simply nudges into your hand before turning his face to kiss your palm,

“There’s no need for apologies. I’m...just glad you’re okay,” Xiao mumbles before he’s back to pressing his head into your stomach. You can’t help but smile delicately as you reach over and bring Xiao up with you until he’s lying over you as you hug him gently. There’s a bit of shuffling before you’re able to spoon him as he let’s himself relax after the two day panic attack he just went through.

---

When you’ve fully recovered Xiao seems to hover around you a bit more. Well not a bit, a lot more, but no one has the heart to tell him that. It’s actually kind of adorable seeing the aloof and reserved adepti seem to follow you around like a loss duckling. Making sure you’re okay and you’re not overworking yourself. He still keeps his tough demeanor but you seriously gave him a big scare.

When Zhongli and Childe come over for their weekly visits of tea, they were aware that Xiao had locked himself in a room to watch over you and anyone that even stepped near the door would be skewered with a spear - and Verr would make them pay for the damages (Zhongli) and whatever consequences Xiao saw fit (Childe) - but they are happy to see you’re okay. You all fall back into your usual rhythm of conversation or Childe trying to get a rise out of Xiao while you and Zhongli talk about how lovely the weather’s been.

Zhongli let’s you in on some details that Xiao or Verr never mentioned while Childe and Xiao are fighting about who knows what. How Xiao wouldn’t leave your side or that he resembled a kicked kitten as he nudged your hand when he thought no one was looking. He offers you some medicine herbs to help with exhaustion and to take care of yourself. Likewise, to give Xiao some pain medication on his behalf. You’re one of the few good things in Xiao’s life and he doesn’t want anything bad happening to you.

---

Hmm. I didn’t mean to but I totally believe in the dad zhongli train and I think Zhongli basically just gave you his blessing? Maybe I’m thinking too hard on this haha.

Maybe this is better? Trying to figure out writing styles are hard. Either way, I’m never gonna end up kicking my paragraph HCS habit haha. If you couldn’t tell, I really like feral protective but lowkey vulnerable types (coughrazorcough). Xiao is so OOC at this point I don’t even know how to fix it. Please come home Xiao. 

(Edit: FUCK YEAH HE CAME HOME WITH DILUC. WE 90ED THIS BITCH AND IM ABOUT TO MAX HIS TALENTS. ILL SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL (since people have been asking) WHEN I GET BACK FROM WORK)

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ’ꜱ ɪɴꜱᴛɪɴᴄᴛ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ!ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ᴅᴇᴍɪ ɢᴏᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ⚠️NSFW [19+]⚠️

Heyoooo!!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? Lololol my bad uwu;; I’ve been doing a lot drawing lately, so I’ve been focusing a lot on that instead of writing— mainly since it requires less brain power for me SKKSSKSK anywho, in celebration of crowning Zhongli in game, I’ve decided to sin—- after talking with Admin T for a bit LOLOL thus, another Femdom fic is born SKSKSK 

As always, thank you all so much for the love and support~! We really appreciate it~!

Art is from my Art Blog: @ko-ffeine​

TW: BDSM ; Chains ; Flogging ; Overstimulation ; Blindfolds ; Shackles ; Collars / Leashes ; Muzzles ; Bondage / Restraints ; Riding ; Face Sitting ; Marking ; Vibratiors ; Breath Play

》》Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

Decades. It had been decades since her arrival to Teyvat. Thinking back to it, (y/n) hadn’t even realized the bonds she’s made after awakening in the depths of Dragonspine. Though it was best for her to not dwell on the past. After all, she learned early on with her revival that sticking to the past only brought unwanted trouble. 

The sound of chains clattering against marble awoke her out of her thoughts as she peered back to the bundle of chains on all fours. A long scaly tail whipping back and forth impatiently as heated glowing amber orbs bore deeply into her own (e/c) ones. 

“Morax…”

A soft sigh escaped her as she made her way over to the former archon. The loose hanfu that danced along her smooth skin had the dragon keen in want. The metal cage strapped to his mouth prevented his fangs from sinking into her supple flesh. The desire to mark and claim what was rightfully his was strung up high in his head as he strained against the enchanted chains that bound his wrists together. The hefty weight of the gold collar around his throat only further added  to his inability to surge forward as the chain attached to the device around his throat only allowed him so much distance. 

“You were being so good earlier. What’s gotten you riled up?”

Though soothing in tone, (y/n)’s expression was anything but as she marveled at the way the Geo Archon was presented before her. The night before his heat had gotten a hold of him, he had given her permission to be just as rough with him to ensure her safety—- and well, she wasted no time in taking advantage of the opportunity presented to her. 

In a flurry of motions she had skillfully wrapped the archon’s body in beautiful golden ropes. Each one accentuating the toned muscle from eons of war and battles. The delicious flush of red that painted his skin as she continued to further restrain the male only set her belly a flame. 

After all, the initial restraints were only mild. It wasn’t until the late evening did she realize how intensive she had to truly restrain her lover. Enchanted chains shackled him down. A leather muzzle had initially been placed to keep him from biting her, but was quickly forgone as he had ruined that within the span 15 minutes. Thus resulting in the current metal cage that adorned his haughty features. 

The collar and leash combo? That had only occurred when she had attempted to leave for the bathroom— only to be slammed into the floor with a lustful dragon dry humping against her as he snarled and growled at the fact he wasn’t able to sink his teeth into her flesh. 

The end resulted in the intensive flogging that only further fueled both party’s lust. 

“Little one~….”

A pang of warmth hit her as she broke out of her memories from last night to meet his impatient amber orbs.

“I should’ve attached the one with the bar in between just so you wouldn’t distract me.”  

Shaking her head, she made her way over to the male, and once she was within reach his tail immediately latched onto her leg. Easily trailing up to press against her cunt as he fervently surged forward to press himself against her. Yet of course, due to the damn muzzle in his way he could only be tantalizingly a breath away from his goal. 

The pressure his cock held did little to alleviate the pain as the desire to breed into her deeply sprang forth.

A hefty growl came from him as he pushed her even more until she tumbled onto her back. The morning sun only added to the ethereal effect as he pressed himself as close to her as he could. 

“Let me fuck you, Little one…wanna breed you until you’re full of my seed…bearing my children…”

A blush dusted across her features as he continued on before he was suddenly yanked back. A choked gasp came from him as he struggled against the Dendro vines that appeared as the vineyard appendages held him still. Each intimately wrapping around him to keep him seated in a frog tie. The leash having been jerked enough to keep him still as he let out a garbled growl.

“So feisty…this is getting interesting little one…”

“I think it’s time for you to stop talking Morax. I’d rather hear the sounds you truly want to make.”  

“Oh ho? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Taunting and ever so prideful, the mighty dragon refused to back down as he strained to get as close to her as he could. Her nearing form did little to deter the desire to fuck her thoroughly. Though before he could even do much the vines came forth to hold his head still. Smaller ones easily kept his lips open as he struggled to chomp and tear the greenery away. Yet with this, he failed to notice her swiftly remove the muzzle before replacing it with a strong and sturdy ring gag. His mouth now forcibly open as drool began escaping down his chin. 

“Haaah?”

“Not so tough now huh? Like the chains, my lovely Archon, this was also enchanted~. I had the chance to put some of my former power into this device. So I’m confident that it won’t break~.”

Grinning, she watched as the funeral consultant tested the new device before grunting as a flare of his nostrils showed his displeasure in the newly placed device.

“Now that that has been settled, I do believe you should be put to use.” 

A guttural sound of confusion came from Zhongli before darkness overcame him. Leafs? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his sense of touch was beginning to heighten and his sense of smell was driving him over the wall as he could practically taste how wet her cunt was. 

Almost as if a learned reaction, the dragon’s tongue fervently searched for her as he reached out. His once ‘normal’ tongue now long and thick as his fangs extended ever so slightly over the metal ring of the gag. Freedom from the device was so close, yet as this occurred…

“Guh?! Haah..nnn ”

The metal shifted to accommodate the change Zhongli brought on; and as if to spite him, the device seemed to meld to form a stricter grasp around his face as a metal band formed over his nose bridge, further enforcing the fact that the device was not coming off.

“Ahhh, is, ish nah wha ah wha—ed” 

“Oh? You’ll have to use your words more clearly, love~”

Her tone only further fanned the flames of lust in his belly as he continued to obscenely drool all over the marble floors. Though his attempts at reprimanding her were stilled as he let out a muffled grunt before an animal like moan and growl tore through his throat as he finally got a taste of her juices. 

Oh how he wished to sink his claws into her supple flesh. Mark the terrain with his love bites and scent. Yet with all the restraints scattered about his body, all he could do was eagerly lap at her pussy with his tongue to the best of his abilities. 

And by the sounds she was making, he was doing quite the job. Easily, with his long tongue he teased and taunted her slick walls. All of her weak points, the secret little motions that he knew brought her immense pleasure. 

Though (y/n) couldn’t see it, she knew that her lover’s eyes had rolled up into his head. Especially when she could feel his tongue stutter as she not only buried his face into her wet cunt, but as the heel of her foot began to grind on his weeping cock. 

Muffled moans and grunts came from the man eating her pussy as he strained against the various layers of restraints she bestowed upon him. Just the very sight of him dressed in her materials had her groaning before cumming against the male’s face. 

As she stepped back, she couldn’t help but admire the state she left her lover in. Panting, drooling with a dash of her cum splattered in and an angry red cock. 

A sadistic cord snapped within her as she cupped his cheek. 

“Mmmm…you’re my good boy, aren’t you Morax?”

“..h-haaah?”

“If you can handle my game well, you can fuck me and fill me with your seed~.”

The mere mention of being able to sheath himself into her had the dragon’s tail whipping back and forth quickly as he leaned into her touch even more.

“Let’s see how well you can hold your breath. If you do well, then you win~.” 

Immediately a twitch of his cock was enough to spur her forth as she searched for the last couple of items she needed. With a grin, she easily worked a plug into the ring. Easily, the object filled the dragon’s mouth as his loud pants became muffled grunts and moans. 

Though before she decided to attach the smooth leather muzzle over his mouth and nose, she went to work with laying him on his side. The action causing a confused muffled grunt to come from the dragon before a gasp and moan came from him as he squirmed and struggled at the sudden intrusion of the vibrator up into his ass. 

“I didn’t say that it would be easy, Morax.”

A teasing lit came from her as she watched how the dragon’s hole greedily ate up the vibrator before she turned the toy on low. The reaction was immediate as  the dragon flinched from the sudden motions as mewls and lewd moans continued to leak out from his lips. 

“Ah~ You’re so cute…so weak and pliable just for me~.” 

Cooing, (y/n) gently ran her fingers along the beautiful horns adorning her lover’s head. Now that they were in full bloom and not stumps like yesterday, she had the ability to properly gaze at them. Though as she got to the base of his horns a muffled cry came from the dragon as spurts of cum splattered against her and his abdomen. 

“Ho? I didn’t realize your horns were an erogenous stimulant Morax.”

More muffled whines and growls came from the trembling dragon as he impatiently flicked his tail against the marble. In response, the Demi god pressed a kiss to his forehead before humming.

“Let’s begin our game then~.”

With a grunt and some of her former strength, she sat Zhongli up before she grabbed the leather muzzle. The smooth homeless mask glistened back at her before she placed the item over the dragon’s plugged mouth and nose. The straps behind now buckled securely as silence— save for the vibrations— filled the room. 

Smirking, she tested the waters by lightly rubbing her fingers along the tip of his cock. The motion resulting in a highly muffled moan as the dragon trembled. The flourish of his scales along his arms only further served to show how much control he had lost. 

“My, my…so sensitive. Then…let’s do this~.”

Immediately, she positioned herself over his weeping cock and in an instant sheathed his cock. The motion causing the bound dragon to writhe and buck his hips immediately up into her as his cheeks reddened with the lack of oxygen going to his brain. 

If only she could see his expression. His eyes rolled so far up his head as nothing but pleasure and pain hit him as he felt the burn of his lungs for oxygen and his voice sound so meek amidst it all. Of course that high went away as she tugged lightly at the tip of the mask. Fresh air immediately streamed in as he coughed and sputtered with pleads and moans for more as his cock twitched inside of her. 

“S-Shit…easy there baby…”

The pet name only further fueled his whines as he leaned forward into her as he pressed his face the best he could into her neck as she struggled to keep the mask away from his nose to ensure he got enough oxygen to his brain. 

“Let’s see if I make you cum first or if you make me, how about it Morax~?”

Before he could even try to answer the mask was pressed tightly over his nose again and the slow tell tale sign of their game began as he could feel her hips work their magic. Her heavy panting and groans only seemed to egg him on as he began to partake in the game. His hips meeting hers evenly as the foggy feel from the lack of oxygen began to pull at his lungs again. 

The feeling of helplessness and being an all powerful god tamed by a Demi god had his mind reeling from the pleasure of humiliation as he came hard into her. As he did so, he could feel her walls tighten around him only further over stimulating the male after his high as he struggled to keep up. 

Soon he was met with the lovely breath of air once again as the mask slipped away and he could finally smell her intoxicating scent. Sweat mixed with his musk never failed to fan at his belly as he fervently dug his face into her neck. Quickly chasing after the high, yet a gasp and muffled broken moan came from the male as he felt her move her hips once again. 

“Oh, you thought I was done baby? Not yet~. Didn’t you mention that your heats lasted a week?”

As she mentioned this he couldn’t help but feel his cock swell inside of her again, yet he couldn’t help the keen that came out of his throat at the overstimulation he was about to receive. 

“I’ll take good care of you, love. Even if it means me drilling into your dragon mind that I’m the one who is in control~.” 

Again, the slapping of skin filled the room as muffled whines came from the dragon. His claws straining against the binds as he wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into her hips to cum into her again. 

Yet no, he was at his lover’s mercy; and honestly he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It wasn’t until she turned the vibrator on high that he came again. A large load coming from him again as he filled her full. His seed seeping deep into her as he  rubbed his cheek against her neck even more refusing to allow her to leave as he wished to keep her plugged up. Just as she did to him.

“I suppose I’ll stay like this….but only for a moment. Then we try to feed you…alright?”

Softly murmuring against his hair she couldn’t help lovingly caress his hair as she basked in the moment of calm that a momentarily tired out dragon could bring. After all, she still had to deal with this for the next 6 days. 

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

[wicked-mind]

Last Love: Part Two

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Aftermath of domestic abuse, swearing, bitchy mom alert.

Note: This is a small part two because we needed so see more of these two together (:

Part One Here

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

From the moment you told Bucky you love him, he was more motivated to show you how much he loves you. You still had your struggles but Bucky was doing everything he could to show you how much you meant to him. He would pull you into his arms every night and whisper sweet things in your ear until you fell asleep and when you had nightmares, he would wake you up and wipe your tears away as he listened to what you had dreamt of before saying all the right things to make you feel safe again. Steve lived with Bucky so it took a little bit for you to stop flinching when they would start to howl with laughter, but you eventually joined in the laughter when they joked with each other.

It was almost Christmas time again and you were having struggles with the memories of how the last holiday season went. Your nightmares were more frequent and you were in no way in the holiday spirit. You tossed and turned in the bed until Bucky’s arms found you, pulling you against his chest so your face could nuzzle into his neck.

Bucky loved having you next to him. He loved everything about you. He loved the way your nose scrunched slightly when you tried to hold back a laugh or when he would catch you singing softly to yourself when you didn’t think anybody was around. Most of all, he loved having you in his arms and the honor of being the man to keep you safe and love you. After pulling you into his chest, he lets one hand stroke through your hair while the other rubs your back, “Still having bad dreams, babydoll?” He murmurs out to you sleepily, keeping his eyes closed as he rested his head on his pillow.

You nodded into his neck, sniffling a little against his skin as you held back tears. You hated crying from your nightmares. It made you feel like you were still being haunted- like Charlie still had a hold on you, “Yeah… Sorry I woke you.”

Bucky opens his eyes to see his room lit up from the sunlight peaking through the windows and scoots away a little bit to be able to look into your sleepy eyes, moving his hand from stroking your hair to cupping your cheek in his palm, “No need to apologize, sweetheart.” He said with a small smile before pressing his lips to your forehead for a comforting kiss, “How about I make us some breakfast?”

You smile softly up at him, “Blueberry pancakes?”

Bucky nods to you with a smile, “Of course, I’ll even make you some bacon.” He said before dragging himself out of the bed and pulling on some grey sweats. He headed for the door but stopped before he opened it, looking back at you in his bed like he did every morning. It was his favorite thing to see everyday- you looking over at him while tangled in his sheets, “God, you’re gorgeous.” He told you with that crooked grin before heading out the door to go start breakfast.

Once you managed to get yourself dressed in some jean shorts, a white tank top, and one of Bucky’s red flannels, you brushed your hair and teeth before making your way to the kitchen rubbing your eyes sleepily. Your eyes focused on Bucky when he let out a whistle toward you, blushing and taking a seat at table.

Bucky grinned, he loved seeing you wearing his clothes. It just imprinted more in his mind that you were finally his as you were always meant to be, “Damn, doll.” He said over to you while he flipped some pancakes onto a plate, “I thought you looked gorgeous in my sheets…” He carried the plate over and placed it in front of you before placing a finger under your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His lips parted as he ran his eyes up and down you one more time, his tongue flickering out to trace his bottom lip at the sight of you before his pearly whites softly bit down with a small groan passing his lips, “But you in my clothes is a whole other level.”

You blushed at his words, your eyes watching his tongue trail along his bottom lip. He knew what he was doing to you, making your breath catch in your lungs. Luckily, you were seated so you didn’t have to rely on your legs that always felt numb when he talked to you like that, “I like wearing your clothes, smells like you.” You say softly back to him, reaching up a hand to tangle in the back of his hair and pull his lips to yours for a deep kiss.

Bucky groans at the feel of your lips on his. You were like his favorite liquor- making him love drunk with every touch. Every touch from you felt like a gift to him. He couldn’t begin to describe the fire you made him feel. He places one hand on your thigh and the other on the back of your neck, pulling your lips rougher against his and took advantage of the small whimper that passed your lips for his tongue to sneak into your mouth, entangling with yours. Finally pulling away for oxygen, he leans his forehead against yours, “Your pancakes are goin’ to get cold, doll.” He said with that crooked grin, “We can finish that up later."

While you two ate, you discussed the plans for the day. Bucky said he had to go to work for a little but should be back soon and you told him you had to return some books to the library and pick up some new ones to read. You stood up with your plate, on the way to the sink when you ran your hip into the side of the counter, dropping the glass plate to the floor and watching it shatter to pieces. You gasped and brought your hands up to your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you look over to Bucky. Anytime you broke something with Charlie it was met with yelling and a few hard slaps to your face. You started spewing out apologetic sobs, “Oh god… I’m.. I’m sorry…”

Bucky stood, noticing the way you reacted and how your eyes immediately started releasing tears. He walks slowly towards you, “Shhh, doll.” He said gently, “It was an accident.” He gently wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, placing you seated on the counter, “Are you okay? Didn’t step in any glass did you?” He gently takes your cheeks into his palm, looking into your eyes with a comforting smile.

You shook your head, “N-no.” You whisper to him, your body shaking slightly in muscle memory as you expected to be punished for breaking the plate, “I’m really sorry… It was my fault and-“ “Stop, sweetheart.” Bucky said softly, cutting you off, “It was an accident. Accidents happen.” He said before gently placing a kiss to your forehead, “You don’t have to apologize. Nobody is upset with you and nobody is going to hurt you. Now breathe with me, okay? In….. Out…”

You breathed in deeply with Bucky’s words and slowly released the air in your lungs, feeling yourself calm down. You did it a few more times with him before reaching up a hand and wiping your tears away on the sleeve of his flannel you wore, “I’m sorry, Bucky..” You breathed out to him, slowly leaning your head on his shoulder, “It’s been bad lately with the holiday coming up… I know you’d never hurt me.”

Bucky wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly as you leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling to himself at your warmth you always brought him when you were close, “I know, doll.” He whispers back to you, “I know it’s a hard time for you and that’s alright. I’m here for you.”

After you helped Bucky clean up the shattered plate from the floor and the rest of the dishes from breakfast, you gave him a tight hug and a soft kiss before he left for work. He lovingly stroked your cheek with his calloused fingers and told you that he loves you as he did everyday before he left for work. You managed to talk Steve into going to the library with you, though it didn’t take much convincing. He was happy to help you out especially since he knew you were having such a hard time. Plus there were some new books he wanted to give a read also.

“Thanks for coming with me, Stevie.” You said with a small smile up to him as you walked into the library and placed your books into the return slot.

Steve gave you a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his jeans, “No problem, haven’t been here for a while. I need to catch up on some reading.”

“I’ll be over there if you need me.” You said, pointing over to a section of the library before making your way over. You usually would check out a mixture of books from fantasy to art books but today you felt the need to glance over the self-help books. Maybe there would be something that would help you figure out how to get rid of the hold you felt Charlie still had over you. You grabbed one of the books off the shelf, flipping through the pages and reading some of the passages when you heard a woman clear her throat. You turn your gaze to look at the older woman and instantly froze. Charlie’s mother, Rose.

“Y/N.” The woman said to you, “Haven’t seen you in a long while.”

You bit into your cheek hard enough until you could taste copper in your mouth from blood, “Yeah… Hi, Rose.”

“It’s Mrs. Baker to you now, Y/N.” She said, folding her arms and giving you a soft glare.

As long as you have known Charlie’s mom, you two didn’t get alone. Anything you had ever done in her eyes was never enough and she would always criticize saying that Charlie needed to teach you to be a better woman, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.” You said softly, looking down to the floor.

Rose took the book from your hand in one swipe, “What are you doing in this section?” She asks before reading the cover of the book, “Your Life After Trauma: Powerful Practices to Reclaim Your Identity….” She scoffed and looked at you, “Still living a lie? Going around telling everybody that my son hurt you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, instead biting onto your cheek again as you looked at her with sad eyes.

Rose pushed the book back to your chest, forcing you to grab ahold of it. She took a step closer to you, pointing one of her fingers in your face, “My son tried with you. Tried to turn you into a woman worthy of being his wife even though I told him you were a waste of time.” She hissed out.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked, suddenly appearing beside you after hearing some of the conversation. He had a deep frown on his face and was glaring daggers at the woman who seemed to be scolding you.

The woman looks at Steve before her eyes returned to you, “I wouldn’t trust this one, young man. She’s a liar and a manipulator- she will ruin your reputation.” She hissed out before turning to walk away.

You frowned and walked forward, “I’m not a liar, Mrs. Baker.” You said, finding your courage as you gripped the book in shaking hands, “Your son is a monster. Anything that has been done to his reputation is his own fault from the way he beat me. You should be just as upset that he dared to lay a violent hand on a woman.”

Mrs. Baker turned to face you, listening to your words with narrowed eyes. Once you finished your piece, she scoffed at you with a roll of her eyes before walking away.

Steve walked forward to stand beside you and looked at you as you still stared off after her, tears slowly slipping down your face as you clutched the book tightly to your chest. He sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder softly, “You alright?”

You sniffled and nod slowly, blinking yourself back into reality, “Yeah… That was… That was Charlie’s mom…” You stammer out quietly, looking down at the floor again.

Steve let out another sigh and a shake of his head. Geez, you couldn’t catch a break, “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of the books you want then we will go out for some feel good food.” He said softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to help you feel safe. He had taken on the role as a big brother to you over the past year and hated seeing you upset almost as much as Bucky did, “Burgers, fries, and milkshakes on me.”

You nod and gave him a half smile before returning to quickly picking out the books you wanted. Steve stayed close to you in case Charlie’s monster of a mother came back to give you another earful, walking you up to the counter to check out your books before heading to the car and stopping at one of the diners. You sat across from him, dipping fries into your chocolate milkshake. You were already feeling a little better after the horrible interaction with Charlie’s mom. You eyed Steve suspiciously when he kept ordering more baskets of fries even though both of you were barely touching them, already full from the burgers, “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Steve looked at you with a small smile, leaning back in the opposite side of the booth, “Me? Up to something?” He asks, “Never.”

You point a french fry at him, your eyes narrowing, “You’re lying.” You stated before dipping your fry in your chocolate milkshake, “But you bought me food so I’ll let it go. For now.”

You had been out of the house for hours with Steve and you knew he was distracting you but couldn’t figure out why. Eventually Steve checked his phone before waving the waitress down for the check where you two argued about splitting it before he ended up paying for the whole lunch. You kept eyeing him suspiciously the whole car ride home as he wore a big goofy grin on his lips like he knew something you didn’t. When he pulled up to the house, you saw Bucky’s truck in the driveway and you look over to Steve, “I thought he was working today?”

Steve smiled over to you, pulling in the driveway and turning off the car, “He was working. Just not at work.” He informed, getting out of the car.

You get out and follow him up the steps of the house, giving him one last suspicious look as he opened the door for you. You walked in and froze, looking around the living room. It was like Christmas had literally just thrown-up all over the house. There was a tall tree in the living room decorated beautiful, fresh poinsettias on every surface and stockings hung up on the mantle with yours, Bucky’s, and Steve’s names on them written sloppily in silver glitter. Then your eyes fall on Bucky who was standing there with a Santa Hat on and holding a box wrapped in gold wrapping paper, “Bucky…” You breathed out as you walked towards him.

Bucky set the present down on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he wore that big cocky grin on his lips, “Figured you needed some Christmas Spirit…” He murmurs out to you before pressing a kiss to your lips, “You didn’t get a Christmas last year because of all the shit. So I’m going to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had, sweetheart.”

Your lips slowly curved up into a smile at him, your eyes for the first time in a long time filling with happy tears, “It’s beautiful and perfect.” You whisper to him, wrapping your arms up and around his neck, “Thank you.”

Bucky smiles, kissing your cheeks as the tears fell to kiss them away, “Almost perfect.” He said, releasing you from his grasp and picking the gold wrapped present back up and holding it out for you, “This is for you. Early Christmas gift.”

You took the box, gently unwrapping the paper and setting it aside before opening the box. You gasped at the nutcrackers staring back at you. Almost similar to the ones your grandmother had given you, the ones Charlie had broken last year. You gently ran your fingers over one of their faces, “They’re almost the same…” You whisper out, swallowing a sob. You suddenly frown up to Bucky, “I didn’t get you anything…”

Bucky grabs the box of nutcrackers, putting it down on the coffee table before wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as his other hand went up to the back of your neck, “Yes you did.” He replied with a grin, “You gave me your heart and love. That’s the best gift I could’ve ever received, sweetheart.”

You smile and blush at his words, standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his soft ones, pushing yourself against his body until he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist with a soft giggle, “I can think of another gift to give you…” You whisper with another giggle after trailing kisses up his jaw, smiling when you heard a small groan pass his lips.

“Dear god, at least take it upstairs.” Steve interrupts, adverting his eyes from the view of you tangled in Bucky’s arms, legs around his waist as Bucky’s hands had moved to rest on your ass.

“Gladly.” Bucky growls out, tightening his grip on you as he started for the stairs to take you up into the bedroom. He moved his hands to squeeze your bottom slightly as you left lingering kisses along his neck, nipping at his skin. He groans again then chuckles, “Oh, sweetheart… I love you.”

_____________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday@stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd

@shawnie--jo @bvckys-doll Here is the part two for Last Love since we needed some fluffy happiness (:

[paperpocalypse]

significance.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” + 47. “I’ve been in love with you for years”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,118 words

Warning: Swearing, violence

His head feels like it’s been split open, the rest of his body feels like one giant bruise and the Handler’s daughter has her fancy leather boot on his fucking throat.

Five couldn’t be less surprised by his luck.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

He forces in just enough breath to answer her. “Eat shit and die …!”

The reaction is worth it. Lila lets out a furious cry, gritting her teeth and bringing her foot down even harder – and in doing so, changes her center of gravity. Opportunity. Five digs his nails into that damned shoe and pushes upwards. The sudden force sends her flying, and he can breathe again.

Fighting the ache in his bones, Five stumbles to his feet as she does the same. “Come on,” he pants, readying his stance as the woman turns to face him again. “What are you waiting for? Let’s finish this thing.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, sniffling. “This isn’t gonna be quick. You are going to suffer for what you did.”

Suffer? For Christ’s sake – Five scoffs and drops his hands. “Lady, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ronnie and Anita Gill.”

“Mean nothing to me.”

“1993, East London.” Lila continues to stare at him like he knows what the hell she’s talking about. “You hog-tied them and you shot them in the head.”

Five narrows his eyes; it’s very possible that she’s just bullshitting him. But despite the rationality of just ignoring her and going for the kill, he searches his memories anyway. 1993, East London. Hog-tied. Tables overturned, the pleas of a couple inside a tiny flat in the middle of the night. Yes, wait – he does remember. 1993, toys strewn everywhere – he told you to close your eyes but you didn’t – East London, two quick shots –

“We had no choice.”

“I know. But …”

“The flower merchants,” he murmurs. Five looks at her with wide eyes. “They were your parents …!”

“And they never did anything to anyone. They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

The Handler ordered him to kill Lila’s parents. Lila, who has powers like them. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Absorbing this newfound information, Five attempts to talk the woman down as he fills out the rest of the picture. “You’re right, alright? I killed them. But I killed a lot of people over the years. It was all just a job. Alright? That was never personal.”

At that, Lila laughs. “‘Never personal,’ my ass,” she sneers. “Yeah, I’ve killed – it’s always, always personal.”

“That’s why you’re not cut out to be an assassin.”

She yanks a knife out of her boot as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Bet your life on that?”

Right then, a shadow moves in the doorway to the barn. Five immediately knows who it is, and his heart seizes in his chest.

“Lila!” Your voice is firm and taunting.

Shit. Shit!

Without hesitation, Five lunges for the knife, only to find himself grabbing at air as Lila reappears behind you. The blade is pressed against your neck before he can even shout your name.

Five clenches his fists as he meets your eyes. Your expression is stony, hands stiffly grasping at Lila’s arm. Jesus Christ, just a little energy to blink – nothing –!

Fucking shit!

“Let her go.”

—

The bearded man smiles. “Sorry, no can do.”

The alley is frigid and dark, the air damp and rotting. He doesn’t move a muscle. In front of him, you breathe steadily, in and out, not saying a word. The steel barrel pressed flush to your temple mirrors the one against his.

“Just hand over your valuables and that briefcase, and we can be on our way.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice steady and cold. (It makes him proud.) “Everything stays with us.”

He looks at you. You blink.

Within the next half-second, he’s knocked your captor to the ground and the two of you are aiming the guns at their previous owners. They raise their hands almost immediately. Exactly like the exercise from his youth.

Another half-second, and both of you pull the triggers.

Five stares down at the corpse now lying on the ground. Then he straightens his tie and turns to you.

You’re still pointing the gun at the other target. His frown softens.

“[Y/n].”

Putting a hand on your arm, he notes how you stiffen, snapping out of whatever zone you had been in. You meet his eyes and breathe in sharply, then relax.

“We’re done.” You frame the question as more of a statement as Five takes the former thief’s gun from you.

“For the night,” he affirms, holding your gaze curiously. “You good?”

You wet your lips and tuck your weapon away. “I’m okay,” you eventually reply. He raises an eyebrow; your mouth twitches. “I just – well, you’re taking this whole assassin thing a lot better than I am. Pointing guns and shooting and killing for real, and – and all that pizzazz.”

“I was a member of the Umbrella Academy,” Five points out dryly. “Thirteen more years of formal training and being able to spatial jump gives me somewhat of an advantage.”

“… That’s true.” Still, you seem unsettled. “Five, you’re okay with this? We’re … killing people.”

“No. But we have no other option,” he says. “It’s only until I figure out how to get us back, alright?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Alright.”

The pair of you leave the alley, leaving the targets there to be found by the police. The fact that they had a gun pointed at your head should make him feel better about it. They were already criminals, too. Self-defense instead of cold-blooded “corrections.”

There’s still a bitter taste in his mouth anyway.

“You hold your own pretty well,” he murmurs after a while, trying to distract himself.

You grant him a small, knowing smile. “Thanks,” you say, taking his arm as the pair of you walk the rest of the way to the motel. “I had a good teacher while I was stuck in the ruins of the apocalypse.”

He hums. “Weren’t you lucky?”

Your hand tightens around the sleeve of his tailored suit.

“The luckiest.”

—

He’s going to kill her.

Teeth bared, Five starts toward her, only to stop short when Lila presses the blade harder against your throat.

“Not another step, Five,” she warns him, her grip tightening. “Or you’ll both regret it.”

“She’s not responsible for what happened. I was the one who killed them!”

“But she didn’t stop you, did she?”

Five struggles to control his rage. The knife is sharp and black underneath your jaw, ready to draw blood at a moment’s notice.

You inhale shallowly. “Lila,” you rasp.

“Don’t speak.”

“Look,” Five forces out as evenly as he can, catching the woman’s attention again. He can’t take his eyes off that goddamn knife. Five can almost feel the edge cutting into his own skin. “You wanna blame someone, blame the Handler, alright? She faked the kill order.”

“Bullshit! I saw the kill order. AJ Carmichael ordered it, and you and [Y/n] carried it out.”

“Lila, listen to what I’m telling you, alright? The Handler gave us the kill order. She came on the job, which she’d never done before.” He unclenches his fists with unwilling, trembling fingers. His mind is reeling. “You’re Commission. You know execs never go on jobs, but that day in London, she was there. Ask yourself why –”

“Stop trying to muddy the waters.”

Five swallows, pulse racing. He rips his eyes away from your neck to gauge Lila’s expression. Doubt is beginning to bleed into it, and he manages to keep his tone level.

Focus on completing the picture. No sudden movements.

“Think about it, Lila. It all makes sense.”

Lila’s grip on the knife relaxes by the smallest amount. She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “What?”

“She never cared about your parents. She was looking for you.”

What little is left of her anger melts off Lila’s face. For the first time, the girl looks completely vulnerable. And it’s not a farce.

“Why?” she whispers.

Come on …

“‘Cause you’re one of us.”

Lila whips her head around when Diego cuts through the silence, holding you even more tightly against herself. Five’s gaze snaps back to the knife again and he swears internally.

Dammit, Diego, you better have a plan!

“The Handler stole you, Lila. Just like our asshole father took all of us,” his brother explains carefully.

“No. It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. Because he didn’t have our parents murdered.” Diego approaches her, staying low to the ground, hands outstretched. “Listen to me, Lila. You were born October 1, 1989, the same day as all of us.”

The rest of his siblings close in on Lila, slowly, warily. The movement sends her into a panic, and she cuts a little into your neck. You let out half of a gasp and swallow the rest of it, but it’s enough.

Five sees red.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

“STAY BACK!”

“Five! Back off!” Diego shouts. Chest heaving and blood roaring in his ears, Five looks at him and then at your sweaty, frozen face – and against every fiber of his being, he listens and backs off, glaring venomously as his brother then turns to Lila again. “Lila? Lila, stop. Let her go.”

She turns her head from side to side, knuckles white as she keeps the knife against your throat. “No,” she chokes. “Diego, you don’t understand. They killed my parents. They took my life away from me.”

Five seethes. “For the last time, it was nothing personal –"

“And it was wrong. I know.” Diego’s eyes flit to Five’s, silently reprimanding. “You want to make them pay for what they did. But killing [Y/n]’s not gonna bring your parents back. You know that.”

“It’s not about bringing them back.”

He nods once, softly. “You’re right. It’s about justice. Honoring their memory.” Diego’s voice is gentle. “Trust me, Lila, I get it. I lost someone to the Commission too. She wasn’t family, but she was my friend, and I cared about her. She wasn’t supposed to die. She didn’t deserve to die. But she did.”

As Diego continues talking, Five keeps his guard up on the other side, watching and waiting for a contraction of a muscle, a single forewarning of violence. If another drop of your blood stains that blade, shit, he’ll kill the woman with his own two hands, Diego’s feelings be damned.

Tightening his jaw, Five shifts on his feet as he looks at you. You stare back with calm eyes – just like that night in the alley, but this time, with no signal for him to make a move.

Goddammit, they should’ve gotten you to safety by now!

“… Just think about whether taking another life would honor their memory. [Y/n] deserves a chance to start over, live a peaceful life with people she cares about. And so do you.”

Lila’s trembling. Yet, she refuses to budge. “If it weren’t for her and Five,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t need that second chance. I would have been all alone if Mum hadn’t found me that night.”

“But there’s a reason she found you. She’s using you, Lila. The Handler.”

“You’re wrong. She raised me.” Lila pauses, then asserts, “She loves me.”

“She’s dangerous,” Diego emphasizes. “And you’re scared of what she’ll do with all that new power. That’s why you dragged me to the Commission. Because I know what it’s like to love dangerous people.”

—

“Oh, my.” The Handler puts a hand on his shoulder, hovering behind him. “One hundred and forty-three kills on the simulation? That’s a new record. Very, very good, Five.”

Five bristles at her closeness, but he doesn’t move away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of unnerving him. “Thanks,” he says tersely.

“Tell me, Five. From what I’ve seen during your training, you’d be a lot more efficient in the field if you were a one-man team. Working alone is when you work best.”

“I’m partnering up with [Y/n].”

“And you’ve filled out the paperwork and everything, I know. I know. But I implore you to think about it logically,” the Handler tells him, leading him down the hallway. “[Y/n] has highly marked assessments, but frankly, they’re nowhere near your level.” She raises her eyebrows at him and blows out a stream of smoke. “Forgive me for assuming, but perhaps this is less about a partnership that would benefit the Commission and more about your personal … relationship.”

Five smiles thinly at her. “With all due respect, we’ve worked together for years. Almost forty years, in fact. I can assure you that our partnership will deliver more than satisfactory results.”

The woman just hums serenely, eyebrows still raised and cigarette holder between her lips as he faces her. Behind her, he sees you approaching.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

As he sidesteps the Handler to meet you halfway, your shared employer calls out to him, voice ringing through the sparse crowd of Commission drones. “You’re a dangerous man, Five,” she drawls, “and this is a dangerous job. If you want to protect someone, we won’t stop you, but don’t let it endanger this opportunity we’ve so generously provided. To the both of you.”

“Duly noted,” Five replies over his shoulder, walking away with you. He can hear the Handler’s heels click against the floor as she goes on her way as well.

“She’s suspicious about us partnering up, isn’t she?” you ask him lowly.

He frowns. “I would be too if I were her. But we have to stay together.”

“Well.” You reach up to adjust his hat, tilting it slightly. “In any case, I’m pulling my own weight in the field. Just like in the apocalypse. No one-sided protection.”

“[Y/n], this is different from the apocalypse. We’re not dealing with food shortages or bad weather – we’re dealing with people.”

“All the more reason for you to trust me.” Despite your usual controlled tone and mien, he sees the way that your eyes glint. “I’m kinda dangerous myself, Five. Especially for the people I love, and I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Five sighs.

“You’re so sappy, you know that?”

(Nevertheless, he finds himself mumbling those four words, just loud enough for only you to hear.)

—

“Difference is …” Diego glances around at their siblings, then looks down, “they love me back.”

“Shut up.”

“The only thing she loves is power. Now, the minute she can’t use you, she will turn on you, and deep down, I know you know that.”

She tilts the knife against your neck. Five sucks in a breath, his heart pounding.

“You don’t know me, Diego.” Lila’s voice is hoarse.

Diego steps closer. He lifts a hand to cover hers over the knife.

“Don’t I?” he whispers. “I know that we can be your family. If you just let us.”

Lila’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears. Hesitantly, she turns her head to look around at his family, and in that moment, Five has a cautious inkling that Diego’s words actually got through to her. She doesn’t resist when Diego pulls her hand gently.

When she releases you, he almost feels weak with relief.

Five murmurs your name as you stagger over to him; you grab his arms, and he raises his hands to hold your face between them.

“Shit,” he breathes, “[Y/n] –”

“I’m okay,” he hears you say, but his ears are ringing and your skin is cold and shit, your neck – delicately, Five tilts your head back, and you attempt to brush his hands away. “Five, it’s – it’s just a scratch …”

His fingers brush against a wetness on your skin. You wince, almost imperceptibly. He draws back to look at his hand, and when he sees the blood on his fingertips, your blood, the wave of relief crashing onto him abruptly morphs back into rage.

Before you can pull him back, Five lunges at Lila.

Gunshots echo throughout the barn.

—

You’re smiling.

—

He wakes up, gasping for breath.

“Oh, good! You’re still alive,” the Handler says, looming over him. Her lipstick is bright red through the dizzying blurs. “Lucky you. You got to see how this all played out.”

Grappling for air, Five tries to speak – tries to give one last word, to finally tell the damned snake to fuck off as he stares into the barrel of her automatic. But it hurts to breathe and he can’t. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts. His tongue feels like lead and his throat is closed up. All he can do is look.

But before she can pull the trigger, he hears gunfire.

Bullets rend flesh that isn’t his. Five’s eyes widen, stunned; the Handler gasps sharply. She turns. More gunfire.

She falls.

Shit, that could only mean.… Five struggles to lift his head, almost blacking out from the pain as the gunman approaches, crushing straw underfoot. A shadow falls over him.

The Swede silently tilts his gun down at his face, and he realizes: they are both the last ones. Everyone else is dead. The Swede’s brothers. The Handler. Lila. His siblings. You.

This is the end.

(This doesn’t have to be the end.)

… Five blinks, numb.

(You’re the one who got us stuck here.)

Unless …

(Seconds. Not decades.)

Seconds.

His lungs burn. Hope blooms in his chest.

(C’mon, Five.)

Concentrate. Hands clenching sluggishly, Five focuses on gaining back the feeling in them. Seconds, not decades. A familiar, electric buzz thrums through his bones, warm, crackling with energy. His hands begin to glow. Blue envelops them like they had so many times before.

It happens slowly, time reversing itself like molasses oozing back into a jar. The Swede lowers his arm and retreats. Bodies begin to rise. Five feels himself getting pushed up, and his feet touch the ground; he presses forward, running, refusing to look back. The sharp pains recede to a singular ache.

Seconds.

Seconds.

He breaks through behind the barn door with a gasp. Air fills his chest, full and crisp.

Immediately, Five looks back at you and everyone else, standing and breathing, and pats himself just to make sure.

Holy shit.

Spotting movement outside, Five leaps at the Handler just as she walks in, seizing her weapon and turning it on her. His finger curls at the trigger. She raises her hands in surrender, lips pursed.

Got you, you son of a bitch.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What Five said,” he hears Lila ask. He doesn’t dare look away from her mother, meeting her poisonous glare with an equally cold one. “Answer me! Is it true?”

The Handler takes in a breath. “Well –”

Before she can finish her sentence, blood sprays out from her chest. She collapses. Dead.

The Swede. Five stares at her body, gun lowering. There’s a pregnant pause, void of any air – and then in his periphery, Lila shoots forward.

Luther charges after her. “The case!”

“No!”

Diego tackles him to the ground. Lila disappears in a flash of blue.

One dead, one missing. Neither of which are you or his siblings. There might be hope for them yet. Rolling his shoulders, Five turns his attention to the rogue assassin, cocking his gun and pointing it at him. The Swede reciprocates.

Nobody utters a word, for fear that it may be their last. But as Five feels the weight of the automatic in his arms, he wonders, suddenly, just how much he has in common with this man. A forgotten humanity. The death of their families. The force of a person with nothing to lose.

Except in the Swede’s case, he has no chance of gaining back what he had lost.

This is the end.

Five takes his finger off the trigger, then after a brief hesitation, lets go of the gun.

“Enough,” he says.

Nothing happens at first. The only sign that the man heard him is how he looks away from Five, surveying the rest of the barn’s occupants.

Five returns his gaze firmly, muscles tense, when he meets it again. The Swede regards him for another moment, then finally speaks.

“Inte mer.”

He drops his weapon. No more killing.

—

After Vanya helps the kid and calms him down, she goes with him and Sissy to help them pack up. Everyone else exits the barn as well to rest up and say their goodbyes before leaving, save for Diego, who talks to Herb and Dot with you and Five before joining the rest of the group at the house.

As soon as everything seems like it’s on track, Five brings you straight to the bathroom before you can protest.

“Five, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

In a familiar turn of events, you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sulking as he cleans the rest of the dried blood from your neck. Five scowls as he inspects the thin, rough scab underneath your jaw. For shit’s sake, it’s more than a ‘scratch’ – but at the very least, the cut wasn’t deep enough to cause too much bleeding.

Obviously, he’d have preferred it if you hadn’t gotten cut at all.

“She could’ve killed you.”

“I know,” you murmur. He glares at you softly, and you reach over to hold his hand. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Five scoffs, shaking his head. “Worrying me? I was damn well past worrying when she –” At that moment, he makes the mistake of seeing the guilt in your eyes, and he sighs. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You shrug quietly as he opens a large Band-Aid. “That I had to do something to keep you safe.”

“At your expense?”

Your miniscule smile changes into a grimace for a split second when he sticks the bandage on, but it returns immediately after. “You would’ve done the same thing, Five.”

All he can retort with is a displeased huff.

Silently, you stand up and turn him around, urging him to sit down this time as you pluck another hand towel from the stack that Vanya had given the two of you. Five sits still, mouth shut and eyes watching, as you start cleaning his face. Your expression is tender. A familiar feeling wells up inside of him.

Suddenly, you chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s just – if I didn’t know any better,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly grimy spot on his cheek, “I’d think that you were a schoolboy that just got into a fight and lost.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, good thing that you do know better, because I obviously would’ve won.”

“Obviously.” Your eyes glint, like they have so many times before.

—

“How bad does it hurt?”

Your hand is soft in his as he glances at his wrist, propped up on a stack of books, then into the small fire burning a few feet away. “Not that much,” he answers. “Thanks for splinting it.”

“Thanks for talking me through it.” You breathe in, head on his shoulder, testing the words on your tongue before you continue. “I was worried. I’m glad it’s feeling better.”

A wrist sprain is nothing to write home about, figuratively speaking. It’s more of an inconvenience than an actual concern; Five figures that the injury will heal in a week, a week and a half at the most. Frankly, he’s more concerned about how much longer it’ll take to complete daily tasks in the meantime.

… You, on the other hand – well, he wonders if you’ve ever gotten anything more than a few cuts and scrapes growing up. The closest he had ever seen you get to panicking was after he fell today, and you’ve been wandering around with him for years.

In a strange way, Five thinks, he was glad for it. He is glad for you. Glad for your presence, your level head. He is glad for the way you hold his hand and talk to him during the day and after dark. And he is glad, secretly, that you want to protect him just like he wants to protect you.

“I love you.”

The words slip out, rough and unbidden.

Five holds his breath when they echo in his ears. You stop tapping your fingers over his skin. Perhaps that’s a bad thing. It was not a mistake, of course, and he isn’t going to take it back, but if that wasn’t what you were saying this whole time – shit. He lets go of your hand, his throat scratchy and strangely closed up.

But then – your fingertips brush his face. He swallows.

“I love you too.”

[kurohoely]

mask (sakusa x y/n)

What happens when Sakusa realizes masks are better off than on?

genre: hurt/comfort, sakusa is in time skip!

wc: 2.2k

It was known that Sakusa is reserved, he only shows his most relaxed self to those who he trusts, which includes you. He can show those random, whacky emotions, teasing you and giving some gen z emojis but being open and vulnerable? That’s just not him.

You have been dating him for almost a few months now and a lot of people were surprised that you both actually worked out. The dynamic you both have was something people often quote as ‘not compatible’. You knew him before since you both have few classes together in college but who would’ve thought from those unintentional crossings lead you here. Sakusa’s character is pretty obvious and you kind of get it by now how he works and acts but was there any difference between before and now? Why does it feel like the walls are kept up, and builds higher than before?

You tried to initiate a lot of things. He does too but he was indeed more awkward, baby steps as you call it. Despite all that, you appreciate him, all the things he did were definitely out of his comfort zone. You kept saying to yourself that he's trying, remembering that he was the one that confessed first. You hold onto that memory in hope that it will be dynamic throughout the relationship.

But how about right now? With the new season up and running, you kept seeing less and less of him. Countless lonely dinners and cold bedsheets. Rescheduled dates and missing out on one another. You almost excused Sakusa for forgetting your anniversary, thinking it was a given. You signed up to be with someone that has no constant rhythm in their life, always the next big thing to keep their lives afloat. Again, you put on another layer, masking away, reasoning to yourself that things will work out. You don't want to bother him, let alone be the reason why he is stressing out. Patience has always been a good nature of you but sometimes, you question if you should stop being selfless and start being selfish. He is your boyfriend after all.

Sakusa noticed the subtle changes that happened. He felt that you were perfect. Too perfect, as a matter of fact. He wanted to sit down and try to understand why and where this was coming from because he definitely didn't confess to you for perfection. He wanted you. Not any other version. Pure and transparent. No mask. But as much as he wanted to, it is still out of his nature, and with the season starting, it will be quite some time before he can bring this again.

Mid through the season, work is piling up, matches are getting tougher each time they win. That’s a given. You came to almost all of his games and have them recorded on tv. Whatever the outcome, you will always be proud of him. He was basking in his prime condition; you were there for him and his plays were getting synchronized with the team at a rate that even the coach was surprised. He left the thought at the back of his mind, focusing on what he has to do first. After each match, you both have this little ritual, spending some alone time together starting with dinner as both of your schedules sometimes don't overlap quite nicely. Sakusa told you about his plays as if you weren’t there to witness it all and you can’t blame him. You love seeing the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about how good it felt when spiking. The conversation flows naturally and you both talked about how your days went. You were both walking diaries of each other. Not until Sakusa flipped a page that has been long overdue.

He cussed himself to have the audacity to forget about this issue. He doesn’t like this. It was as if he’s taking advantage of your facade, your mask. Even though Sakusa tells you many times that you need to wear one physically, this was something that he wished to be stripped off completely. He hates it. He hates that he can't be a safe space for you. Someone you can let yourself breathe from the suffocating expectations from the outside world. But what he hates the most is that you changed yourself to accommodate his own ignorance.

Sakusa flipped his match schedule. It looks like there won't be another match in 5 days. He called Meian and Iwaizumi if it’s okay if he takes a few days off from practice. Both of them were surprised that Sakusa would even ask for a day off but they agreed anyway. He’s not the type to ask for one so this must be something really important.

Saturday shifts are hard. You only have one day of rest before hustling again on Monday but oh you were SO GLAD that your manager said that you can have a paid leave on Monday after helping out on a side project for some other team.

You pushed your shared apartment door, dragging your feet inside. You saw Sakusa peek his head from the kitchen. He took off his apron and walked to you, grabbing your bags from the floor and giving a peck on your cheek. You went to the bedroom and saw the bath bomb that you bought impulsively on your previous date. A bath sounds nice, you thought to yourself.

Filling up the bath to a slightly hotter temperature, a much-needed one to shake that fatigue out from your body and start your long weekend with a fresher body. Gently dipping your toes, you hold the sides and lower yourself in, letting the heat seep into your skin. As you were shuffling your position, a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Doors unlocked so yeah baby come in”

Sakusa twisted the knob, letting himself in. He sat on the floor next to the tub, a rare sight for Sakusa and you. He folded his arms on the dry part of the tub and stared into your eyes. Losing himself in your mind, finding where he actually belongs. He knows this isn’t the right time, not even a good one, to bring up this matter but it has been pushed back for too long, he couldn’t care less about what setting it was in right now. You were always firm on your stands, confronting those to have the middle ground in everything but now, it was as if he’s with someone else.

“Hey sunshine, how's the bath”

You flushed at the pet name he called you. When was the last time you heard that softness, that warmth? The sense of home and belonging to another person, solely wanting to give your whole life away in exchange for his.

“It's pretty nice. Do you wanna join in?”

“Hmm sounds nice.”

He removes his mask and strips quickly, submerging himself into the tub in front of you. He pressed his muscular, toned back to your chest, taking its warmth into his body. Taking in whatever he could take from you between his skin and yours. Your scent, your heat, your touch, the friction, sensation - everything. He knows he wants everything but how about you? He sometimes thinks that he forced you into the relationship, going above and beyond to go with how he handles things. His fussy attitude when it comes to cleaning, being in crowds, and towards people in general. Whatever the train of thought was, he needs to know, He can’t bear seeing his future bland and monotonous because you were not there. You were his yellow, heck, you were his entire spectrum.

“Hey y/n, I know it's not a good time to ask this but, did I do something that makes you uncomfortable? I know I’m not good with words or being affectionate, doing all those sweet things that you see in movies but the last thing I want you to be is forcing yourself to be something that you are not.

“If there’s anything wrong that I did please tell me I…”.

“No! You did nothing wrong. You were perfect but maybe too perfect. I have this feeling that you weren't being yourself for quite some time. It's like you have this mask that you put on whenever you are with me. I know you are sensitive in nature - both to other people and towards yourself, which is why I fell in love with but aren't relationships supposed to be a two-way thing? I need to know what’s bothering you so please talk to me. I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to be your most comfortable as if both of us are the only ones that are living on this earth. I wish I could come and talk to you sooner about this but I got too caught up in the games. It's my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be braver on confronting things like these. I’ll try to be more attentive to the small things”

Hearing this from Sakusa made your heart burst into so many emotions that were buried for so long. Happy, sad, hopeless, desperation, anger, guilt but most importantly, longing. You could only cry when he finished his last words. You were gasping for air, clawing yourself into Sakusa’s shoulders to grip on whatever you can. Wet streams trickled down Sakusa’s nape, dampening them. Sakusa was flustered as if it was the first time he ever saw you broke down. The first time? Oh God, how much has he been missing in this relationship...

“I’m sorry Omi. I was trying to be understanding. I tried to make this home at least a space where you can have at least some peace. I wanted to be with you more so badly but I know by asking it, you have to take time off or you might just think I'm annoying. And I hate it. Words cut more for me since it is the least effort to bring out but weighs the most. I don't think I can bear with it. So I avoided it. I avoid creating any chances that would lead us to fight. But then, it hit me when you started to slip away, distancing yourself subtly. Our dinner time became shorter, we didn't even cuddle anymore because your muscles were sore and I want them to heal fast so you can play your best. It seems like it backfired huh?”

Sakusa was taken aback due to a lot of things. How he finally was able to hear you say his pet name, the range of small things that you do, putting him as your topmost priority when you yourself are buried down, succumbing to earth more and more. How could he be so blind? It hurts him. It hurts him that you didn't even consider being comfortable with him. It destroys him that all of your actions were threaded with the thoughts of him when he did nothing, even worse, he forgot. Sakusa felt a sting poking through his heart, thin-like rods thrusting through it slowly. He felt a burning sensation that he was sure he didn’t like. If he felt this after hearing all of these, what about you? You’ve been carrying these for weeks, stretching out to months, yet you’re still here. How did he end up with someone as thoughtful and wonderful as you? He turned his body around, facing you. Your legs tangling together, bringing you inside his embrace, pushing your foreheads together. He lets out a breath after his thoughts finally reach a verdict.

“Hey bub, it’s okay. We’re here now. I’m sorry it took my dumbass this long to have this conversation. You don’t know how much you meant to me even though I barely show it. Please know that at least. I love you. I love you so much, too much that I cannot imagine waking up the next day without you. You were the reason I can handle Atsumu’s ass, thinking about if I can go through that part of the day, I can see you again. A little reward from me to myself. I asked for a few days off, shall we do a bit of catching up session?”

A tint of coral pink brushes lightly on top of your cheeks. Seeing Sakusa being all vulnerable and open, is a view that you wish no one will ever see besides you. You smiled and chuckled lightly.

Sakusa's heart swells. There it is. The smile that got him smitten all over. The small chuckle that you made was a symphony to his ears. It was as if at this moment he fell in love again. He found the you that he fell for but even deeper. He swore that day he would never make you feel like this.

You both get out, drying yourself together. Omi blow-dried your hair and you did his. He's pretty good at managing your hair because of his curls. You both did a random 14-step Korean skincare routine and cuddling around watching your favorite movie - Pride and Prejudice. Sakusa never understood why you liked this movie so much but today he finally does. When two lovers placed down their masks and finally faced each other, all became visible. The adoration in one's eyes, longing for the warmth of the other, to finally be together.

[lantsovsupremacist]

tiberias (cal) calore vii: illicit affairs

i’m only on the 3rd book so a) pls don’t spoil you’ll break my heart and b) my perception of the characters has only been developed to this point so if you come for me do it with the correct context lmao!!!

you knew what it was.

leaning your forehead against the cool metal post of your bed frame, a shaky exhale escaped from your lips. you wished just like that lost breath, you too could leave behind your body and with it, mind. a few minutes was all you needed, really; some semblance of relief.

even with your door shut tight with a deadbolt, the danger contaminating the palace lingered outside of it. you were not foolish enough to deny the cracks it could slip through. you would give any adversary a worthy fight, though. you could not afford not to, especially now.

for the first time in your life, you had truly encountered a problem that you could not use your abilities to maneuver out of. as much as your lungs screamed and your legs ached to run, you could not. being a swift, your first instinct was always to run. your speed always gave you the advantage in pursuit.

a familiar knock at the door broke you from your trance of pity. you stood up, sniffling as you ran the back of your hand across your nose and mouth. the action of clearing your throat sounded more like a whimper, but you managed as you gathered your skirts and headed for the door. you pushed down the nausea and wrung your hands to settle yourself.

your fingers shook on the deadlock before you pried the door open. the amount of weight on the wood, the length of the echo, and the momentary pause before the second, lighter knock gave away the identity of the person on the other side. you were in his arms before you could take another breath.

despite offering you the comfort you had craved all morning, his touch triggered the sobs caged in your chest. perhaps, it was because your heart was only safe in his hands. but, without the key to let them out, they messily tore through and paved their own path.

a year ago, your greatest worry would be the shame brought to your family on account of conceiving a child out of wedlock, let alone to the crowned prince. now, it seemed the impending war took precedence. you could have laughed; a red threatened your livelihood. a girl, really.

you were always careful, and it did not even happen very often. both you and the prince were very busy people, after all. send offs and reunions.

“we can fix this,” cal murmured into your hair.

“no, you don’t get it,” you broke out with a defiant shake of your head, “there’s nothing to fix.”

he pulled back, stroking your hair and pushing it behind your ears. your golden strategist was at a loss. your heart fell further into the pit of your stomach. you chewed on the inside of your lip, desperate to look anywhere but his eyes. yet, in the space of the same moment, you never wanted your gaze to leave his.

“i won’t leave you,” his warm hands ran up your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, “and i won’t let my father have a say in any of it.”

“it’s not the king i am frightened of,” you admitted with a sour taste in your mouth.

cal nodded with a grimace, “then i’ll be sure she is controlled until the end of the month.”

but who could control the queen who could twist minds? you chewed on the thought to avoid choking on it, forcing it down in distaste. both cal and yourself needed time neither of you had the privilege to claim.

cal communicated the importance of waiting until the traditional queenstrial to propose publicly. while the larger part of you agreed with this position, a small piece of your heart reserved for crippling doubt and senseless paranoia wondered if he was stalling for a different reason. if you could at any time expect desertion, it would be now but true to his word, cal had done no such thing—a loyal soldier until the end.

“and if they don’t chose me?” the secret fear you had harbored far before you had even become aware of your current condition felt a traitor to expose to the boy who had given you everything, kept every promise he could.

he studied your face carefully to ensure he held your full attention (though he was foolish to ever think otherwise), “make them, my dear.”

despite the event’s purpose of selecting a bride for the princes themselves, all of the noble houses knew the eldest had little choice in the matter. while your relationship with cal was not overt due to the inherently illicit nature of the affair, servants were known to talk. even in your deepest frustrations, you could not necessarily blame them.

his confidence in you was endearing but what other choice did you truly have?

you pulled away from his arms and lingering stare, wrapping your arms around your middle. pacing the length of the room, you suppressed a bitter laugh, “and then what? when a baby is born after less than eight months? and that’s to say we can persuade your father to rush a royal marriage.”

“let them talk,” his fingers twitched at his sides and you caught the scent of smoke, “nobody will be able to do anything.”

he thought he could protect from anything. sure, there would be little opportunity for any political action after a marriage was solidified but rumors would swirl. born into the pressures of eyes always watching you, they did not cut deep, but a queen needed a reputation demanding of respect. you did not want to be cruel but you decided that if need be, you could.

you wanted so terribly not to cry but willing it away only drew your focus to it more. you did not think the act made you weak but you would rather avoid the complete exhaustion it often caused. you were already so tired. but, some things were inevitable.

cal caught on before you did, “baby,” his voice was croaky, maybe laced his emotion of his own, “please don’t cry.”

you giggled at the irony. it was watery and your voice was nearly gone but it was there. confusion spread across cal’s features. you studied his face as he began to understand. a slow, crooked smile spread across his freckles and indicated the transition.

“suppose i could have chosen better words.”

“mhm.”

you had not noticed he was slowly rocking you in his arms. calm rushed into your senses. cal radiated your favorite kind of warmth. he monitored his body temperature around you, never too hot but always comfortable. it reminded you of home. he was your home. he smelled of pine and dying embers.

now nearing nineteen, you met the prince at fourteen. your elder sister married sooner than your parents expected, hastening your introduction into political meetings as a representative of the swift house of nornus.

who could blame a young and inexperienced teenage girl for falling in with a powerful, older boy who dared throw her an extra glance. what began as a benefit to palace life at fifteen soon turned into a vice. it was easy to tell yourself that you could stop any time you desired but you were addicted to the way he touched you, the way he tasted, the way he spoke your name.

for a while, you were foolish enough to believe he maybe even loved you. when you turned sixteen, you understood you were a pastime for the prince. so when at seventeen he told you he loved you, you did not believe him. he was gone for service quite a bit and your training schedule stole away any time for secret meetings when he was home. you began to purposefully avoid him but the withdrawal from the high that was cal left you dizzy.

when he did not make a move to find you, you tried even harder to move on. you had both made a mess of your hearts, left bleeding and shattered on the floors of the palace. you watched him escape the palace more often, always finding another place to be. one night, however, you followed him. you told yourself it was curiosity that caused you to slip out of your covers and into a warm coat, a coat you would not have needed if you left with him.

you caught up easily with your inhuman perception and speed and yet, he still saw you coming. he always did. that night, you wandered through a village and blended in. that night, you could be normal. he helped you clean up the mess between the two of you and things were different but the same again. they were better. you still took the long way to his room and pulled him into hidden corridors but the longing stares across meetings reignited.

you cleared your throat, “when you returned from delphie.” you tone held the pace of a simple comment, not the answer to the unspoken question pressing down on both of your minds.

cal turned his lips into his mouth and nodded, taking a deep breath, “i remember.”

it was a good memory, a good time. slow and gentle and loving. rane had worn you ragged sparring evangeline from sun up to sun down. you enjoyed the younger classes attending for the exposition but your muscles felt like weights lodged into your body and your breath had not yet fully returned after running circles around evangeline.

usually when one of you returned from an excursion outside of the palace, you wasted little time in attaching to every piece of each other. but, you were both exhausted—exhausted but greedy for the attention of the other. it had been a month ago, nearly to the day.

you and cal never discussed the prospect of children. even if one of you did not favor the idea, there was no choice in the matter. cal, as a future king, needed heirs, and if you wanted to be queen, you would have to bear them. but, you did want them and secretly, you knew cal did, too. it was more than a superficial requirement.

cal always looked at you, found you in a crowd, so it was hard to study him in secret. when he was with children, however, all attention transferred to those at his feet. it was then you saw him fully relax, the weight of his crown falling off his back. he loved them. you loved him more for it.

“and i don’t regret it,” he continued, dipping his head to place it gently on your shoulder. he kissed you neck once, twice, and then dropped his head back down.

[honey-makki]

Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together. 

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss 

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

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Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved. 

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem. 

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face.  Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left. 

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok. 

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you. 

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly. 

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release. 

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over. 

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works. 

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway. 

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs. 

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him. 

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of. 

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs. 

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection. 

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you. 

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze. 

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance. 

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before. 

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.” 

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust. 

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair. 

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment. 

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock. 

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-”  excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog. 

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face. 

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

 “Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair. 

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit. 

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.  

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out. 

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?” 

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral. 

Almost. 

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping” 

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly. 

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe. 

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more. 

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop. 

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more. 

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck” 

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again. 

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?” 

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach. 

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head. 

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure. 

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you. 

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television,  eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.” 

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter. 

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life​

[thosewickedlovelies]

Be the Girl You Wish to Meet in the Bar Bathroom

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Summary: You make a new friend in the bar bathroom. She and her friends help you lure in the hottie she spots checking you out ;)

Rating: T for suggestive themes

Tags: Brief mention/implications of alcohol use.

Word Count: 3,359

A/N: This one goes out to all the drunk girls you've ever met and been uplifted by in bar bathrooms <3 Also for @nathan-bateman ❤

---

“Ugh, my feet are killing me,” your new friend groans as she lowers herself onto the toilet. “This always happens when my friends make me dance with them.” Still seated, she bends over to rub what she can reach of her heel.

Despite the thumping music and the din of bar conversation in the background, you can hear her perfectly fine, seeing as you’re sealed in the tiny bathroom together. You met her a moment ago in line, after you almost stumbled into her and she immediately proceeded to compliment your dress. Now you’re chatting like longtime pals.

A universal feminine experience, a distant part of your mind thinks, with a fuzzy sense of warmth.

“Yeah but you’re so lucky though,” you tell her earnestly, while washing your hands. “My boys hardly ever dance with me, they’re soo lame.” You make an exaggerated pouty face.

You only ever went out with your boys- Frankie, Will, Benny, and Santiago. You had other friends at work, but weren’t quite at the “let’s go out dancing together” stage with any of them yet. Benny and Santi actually did dance, but while you loved them to pieces, it wasn’t quite the same.

Tonight you had reunited at one of your usual spots- a basement bar that was a bit on the divey side, but just trendy enough to have designated space for a dance floor.

“Oh my gosh, you should totally come dance with me and my friends! Every girl needs a girl friend group to dance with.” She looks at looks at you with wide, serious eyes and all the sage certainty of a perfectly tipsy person.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so nice!” You’re genuinely touched at her invitation. “And so true,” you add a beat later, nodding with conviction. You shift away from the sink as she flushes the toilet.

“Yeah!” The brown-haired woman continues to rave about her friends while she washes her hands. “Ready?”

Arm in arm, you leave the bathroom together. You halt almost immediately, however, as the colored lights of the dance floor change abruptly, blinding you with white strobes. You both shriek and giggle as you throw your hands up in defense. You decide to remain where you are while you try to locate her friends.

She spies something else first. “Oooh, don’t look, but there is an absolute Adonis of a man checking you out right now at one of the tables.”

You don’t look, keeping your intrigue under wraps as you continue to scan the room. “Ooh, what does he look like?”

Santiago Garcia had been keeping an eye on the restrooms waiting for you to return, but his relief at your reappearance turns to curiosity as you exit with a woman he’s never seen before. His interest in her fades quickly, though, as the sweeping lights highlight your grinning face and that close-fitting dress. Everything else seems to fade to his peripheries.

He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s captivated by you tonight. Maybe it’s that you haven’t seen as much of each other lately, everyone busy with work and life. He thought he’d been elated at the prospect of a group get-together this evening, but when he kept finding himself frustrated at the guys stealing your attention from him, he wondered if it was just you he’d been excited to see.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can see every man in a ten-foot radius of you right now doing the same thing he is: checking you out. Sizing you up like nothing more than a trophy to add to their collection, as if any of them were good enough for you.

His fingers tighten around his beer as Santiago drags a dark gaze down you. Thinking of all the memories he has associated with you, all the things he’s seen your body do- a connection none of these other suckers can claim. In his brooding, he doesn’t notice the woman beside you noticing him.

“There they are!” Brown Hair squeals. She drags you around the edge of the dance floor to where several people are waving.

There’s a flurry of introduction, but you don’t catch any of their names over the music. A tall woman with noticeably muscled arms; another with deep brown skin and a halo of dense, tiny, blue-dyed curls; a third whose accented greeting you’re just able to catch as the music fades briefly.

Taking advantage of the quiet, Brown Hair speaks. “All right girls, now listen. There was an obscenely gorgeous man checking out our new friend a second ago, and I bet he still is. A few tables behind us, with the hair?”

With the hair? She and you are facing the dance floor, but her friends are facing the bar’s tables, one of which your future man is apparently sitting at. With outstanding coordination and nonchalance, they all manage to identify him over your shoulders, and whistle their approval.

The one who…?” You strain to hear Arm Muscle’s question, but it’s lost beneath a suddenly surging bassline.

Brown Hair darts a quick glance over shoulder and nods.

“That is some nice hair, and I would know,” the blue-afroed beauty smirks and winks at you, before grabbing your hand and tugging you slightly further onto the dance floor. Still close enough to the edge to be plenty visible to anyone seated at a table. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get you that man.”

“I haven’t even seen him!” You protest with a laugh, even as you follow her willingly.

“Girl, all you need to know is that he is insanely hot.” The one with the accent speaks from close behind you. “As your designated girl friend group for tonight, it’s our duty to help you lure him in.”

Conversation becomes impossible in the rhythm of the crowd. You follow their lead, let their hips and hands guide your movements, losing yourself in the uninhibited joy of moving your body to the thumping music. In the whirl of unself-conscious beings all around you, you momentarily forget what brought you out here in the first place.

Until, after some unknown amount of time, Brown Hair twirls to face you. “He’s on the move!” She waggles her eyebrows.

You remember then that you’re supposed to be dancing for some guy. You’re still facing away from the tables, but from in front of you Blue Hair has a clear view over your shoulder. “Mmm, look at his hunky blond friends,” she purrs. “Think he’ll bring them over too?”

Wait. Surely they couldn’t mean…? There had to be more than one table in here with two hunky blond men at it, right??

She spins you around, and you follow her pointing to where Benny and Santiago are standing at their table, the former clapping the latter on the back. Eyes widening, you’re nearly beside yourself wondering which of your boys the girls could possibly be referring to- until Santiago detaches himself from the group.

“Your man is coming!” Accent squeals.

“Wait, he was the one checking me out?” you hiss frantically.

“Undressing you with his eyes, babe,” Brown Hair nods knowingly. The others make sounds of confirmation.

Pope’s dark eyes pin you as makes his way across the room. He weaves through the tables like they aren’t even there, like you’re the only thing worth his attention. Your lips part in shock.

You’d always thought the vague chemistry between you and Santiago was merely a side effect of his natural sexual charisma. Like a power he could turn on and off at will, you’d seen it in action enough times to recognize it. Although...it had never occurred to you to wonder if the chemistry was not, in fact, a side effect, but rather an intended result. Had Santi been deliberately using his powers on you?

Watching him go, Benny chortles. His gaze slides past Santiago to the other women who are still blatantly eyeing their table. “Looks like you might be DD for just yourself tonight, Catfish.” He smirks devilishly and runs a hand through his hair. “Come on, brother.” Will doesn’t react to his sibling’s invitation as he saunters after Pope, only sipping his beer contemplatively.

Frankie snorts at the older brother’s obvious interest. “Get out of here man, they’re definitely checking you out, too. I’ll hang here for a little while longer.”

Will cracks a smile. Draining his glass, he unfurls himself from the table, bright blue eyes roving appreciatively over the women flanking you.

“You’re the man, Francisco.” The taller blond gives him a nod of thanks before following his brother.

Frankie only shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips as he observes the scene unfolding between you and Pope. Finally.

With the hair, indeed. That should have tipped you off straightaway. You’ve been encouraging Santi to grow out his gorgeous curls for probably as long as you’ve known him, but he rarely took leave for long enough to gain any measurable growth. Even short, however, his greying locks reflect the colors of the roaming spotlights as he approaches, making his beauty even more otherworldly.

Dumb with surprise, you don’t have time to plan any kind of reaction before Santiago is there, standing before you with one upturned hand outstretched. “Can I cut in?”

Cooing, your new friends part to allow him unhindered access to you. Although there’s a suave sort of expectancy on his face- he knows what the girls were doing- even in the dim, shifting light you can see the genuine question in his eyes.

You’re still unsure of what he’s playing at, but Santi has never let you down before. Your hand doesn’t waver as you place it in his.

His fingers curl around yours, warm and reassuring. He tears his gaze from you only to briefly address the girls: “My friends are single, by the way.”

As if on cue, you all become aware of Benny and Will sidling up in Santiago’s wake, like two blond, shameless, bad ideas.

Santi is wearing that big shit-eating grin when he turns back to you, and you can’t help but smile at his familiar antics. Laughing, you let him sweep you away, guiding you toward a more remote corner of the dance floor and into a sway that’s breathtakingly gentler than what you were expecting, given the moves with which you and the girls were taunting him.

(If his hold feels gentle, he makes sure it doesn’t look that way: flexing his arms where they rest around your waist and brushing his nose along your hairline, breathing you in and sending menacing glowers to anyone still looking at you.)

You’ve never been this lost for words around Santiago. You’ve danced with him before, technically; but it had never felt like this. You want to speak, but your tongue feels clumsy in your mouth, heavy with the energy between you. As your thoughts churn, his hold shifts, one arm wrapping all the way around your waist to draw you nearer, the other sliding up your spine, fingertips tracing the skin above the back of your dress.

It may have only been a song or two during which you held each other, but it felt like much longer. His light caress sets the blood fizzing in your veins, sparkling like drink mixers, sweet with the promise of bright memories to come.

Finally he speaks. “Is this okay?” Santi murmurs.

Hearing his warm voice in your ear, instead of making you more nervous, grounds you. That familiar, steady timbre, his quiet confidence and trust in you to answer him truthfully. Which you do, because you trust him, too.

“Very,” you profess into his neck. Your nose nearly tucks beneath the collar of his button-down. “Santi…” you hesitate, knowing you want to ask but unsure of what the question is.

He waits, his subtle swaying never faltering.

“Why tonight?” It’s a vague, possibly lame cop-out of a question, but it’s the only way you can think to phrase it. He’ll understand though. Santi can play the fool when he wants, but he knows you, and now isn’t the time.

For several heartbeats, the only response is the rasp of his stubble against your jaw. You swear you feel his lips brush your skin, but before you can properly register the sensation he’s withdrawing to answer.

“Mmm...Well, I don’t need to tell you what those dance moves of yours do to me.” He pinches your side in emphasis, but despite your squirm and flush, you scoff. Santi has seen you dance like that before- he’s been the one dancing with you like that before.

Santiago chuckles, the sound liquid dark. He knew you wouldn’t buy that. “Honestly, I don’t know. Seeing all these other assholes eyeing you up like they’d have a chance...I couldn’t stop myself. I’m just putting them out of their misery, really.”

You snort at his dismissive shrug, knowing his irreverence masks real emotion. You can read it in the lines of his face, each one as dear and familiar to you as the beauty marks on your own. Green and red lights stripe his skin as you study them.

He can’t quite meet your gaze, suddenly. “What are you staring at,” Santi grumbles, burying his face in your neck again.

You giggle at his gruffness, at his breath huffing on the sensitive skin.

“Just your pretty face, Santi,” you croon. You tighten your arms around his shoulders, deliberately wiggling closer so you’re pressed more firmly against him.

His sharp, surprised inhale juts into your chest. But any response he might have given is lost beneath the sudden blare of trumpets from the speakers.

The familiar melody makes you both pause. You lean back just far enough to meet Santiago’s eye; you know he’s anticipating the same thing you are and you both shout: “Shakira, Shakira!”

You squeal as Santi leaps back from you, grabbing your hands and twirling you in a familiar routine. ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ had become, thanks to Benny, Pope’s song, a claim he always pretended to roll his eyes at when the boys brought it up. But he secretly loved it, and rarely missed a chance to show off why.

Your muscles leap into action as he does just that, dancing you to the Latin beat. You’re breathless with laughter, sweat beading on your hairline.

I don’t, don’t really know what I’m doing, but you seem to have a plan...

The tripping guitar notes swirl around you, but Santiago doesn’t let you stumble. He guides you in time with the pounding percussion, his whole body undulating to the rhythm.

All the attraction, the tension...

His arms cross above your head as Santi spins you so your back is pressed to his chest. He holds you close, hands low on your hips, and you lean back into him, relishing the strength in the muscles shifting against your spine. Warmth radiates from him, all-encompassing. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him.

His face is much closer than you were expecting; a thrill bursts in your chest. Curiosity kindles, however, as you take in his expression. You’re not sure if you recognize it. Happy, but searching- like he’s gauging your reaction, or seeing something he hasn’t before.

You don’t have time to dwell on it, though- the song is approaching Benny’s favorite line. You tip your head as if listening, raising your eyebrows at Santi expectantly.

His eyes widen, sparking with recognition at your signal. You jump away-

Let me see you move like you come from Columbia…

The saxophone trills its long, fluttering note and you whoop in admiration at the sight before you. Santiago loops his hips rapidly, letting them sling him in a circle, his elbows held square at chest level. His lips form an “o” of concentration in a spicy expression that would make anyone else look ridiculous. But Santi’s obvious skill and the self-assured confidence with which he always carries himself only makes the whole thing ridiculously sexy.

Santi’s movements cause his shirt to ride up, exposing a sliver of taut, tan skin. Shamelessly you appreciate the visible, flexing muscles in his arms and thighs. His butt in those jeans.

He is grinning and giddy when he faces you again, one corner of his smile crooking higher as he witnesses your glee. Laughing, Santi pulls you back into his arms.

“How many times have you seen me dance like that, cariño? And every time you have the same reaction.” His voice is breathless in your ear.

You bite your lip at the warmth of his broad hands, at what is definitely the kiss of his mouth on your skin.

“I like your dancing, Santi,” you say simply. His pulse thrums beneath your lips as you slowly skim them up his neck in return.

Into the line of his jaw you admit “...I like when you dance with me.”

Santiago brings one hand up to cradle your head, leaning back slightly to look at you. His brown eyes are full of affection. “I love dancing with you.” Creases fan out from his eyes as he smiles and he is so beautiful it makes your heart squeeze.

The moment hovers, both of you hardly daring to hope. Your gaze skips down to his lips despite your best efforts.

You know he sees it when his grasp tightens, his hold at the nape of your neck becoming more deliberate. His face is merely a breath away.

“Cariño?” he murmurs. You’re surprised to see the faintest trace of uncertainty, the question in his eyes. He’s asking if you’re sure.

One eyebrow quirks the tiniest bit. “Santi?” You are.

The uncertainty vanishes, and you kiss him.

He lets out a soft groan in the back of his throat. He hauls you as close as he possibly can, and you arch into him, trying to get closer.

You plunge your hands into his silvery curls with a sigh of satisfaction. You’ve touched his hair before, but never like this- never used it to hold his face to yours. The damp traces of sweat as you twist your fingers in it only add to the surreal euphoria of it all. The flashing lights leave colored impressions against your closed eyelids; the music is a muffled, fading pulse as your senses fill with him.

The sturdy press of Santiago’s body, the smell of him- lingering cologne and the musk of his earlier exertions. His mouth velvety hot, his tongue curling against your own in a way that makes heat expand low in your belly. Increasing desperation infects both of you as you realize you should have done this ages ago.

Dimly you become aware of raucous cheers coming from somewhere nearby. With a gasp you pull your mouth from Santi’s, chest heaving. His lust-blown eyes clear somewhat as you share a shy grin.

Then he looks up, toward where the Miller brothers and your girls are hooting at you. Benny cackles as Santiago gives them a one-fingered salute. You shrug helplessly at the girls, noticing with delight the way they’ve paired off: Benny with his arms around both Accent and Arm Muscles; next to them, Blue Hair’s beautiful brown skin contrasting with Will’s paler complexion.

Overcome with mischief, you duck your head into Santiago’s neck again. Placing your lips where it curves into his shoulder, you flutter your tongue delicately against the flesh before biting down with purpose, laving and nibbling to leave a mark.

Santi sucks in air and you feel a subtle shudder wrack his body. He is still facing your friends; scandalized oooohs sound from their direction, and you're impishly delighted to have made him react in some visible way.

His grip on your head shifts so that one thumb is pressed beneath your chin, guiding your head back up to look at him. He breathes your name, his expression dangerous- but questioning all the same.

Radiating innocence, you grin in answer. “Wanna get out of here, Santi?”

Relief quickly vanishes beneath the promising gleam in his eyes as he takes your hand.

[apollos-garden]

Thrall

A/N: in this, you’re an Avenger who has atmospheric / air manipulation powers. So basically you can move air, shove air, make a high/low pressure bubble, make a force field of wind, etc. 

Word count: 1878

Summary: mind controlled Bucky is ordered to fight you

The metal-paneled hallway was silent as you snuck along the side. You’d successfully retrieved the element core from under heavy guard at one of HYDRA’s last bases without notice. Just a bit longer, and you’d get outside. Tony’s quinjet was as close as possible to the base without triggering the sensors, about a 3 minute run. At the end of the hallway, you saw Bucky waiting to make sure you weren’t ambushed and cornered in the narrow corridor. You quickened your steps, eager to get away from the flickering fluorescent lights and eerie echo. Suddenly, the speakers in the ceiling came on with a crackle. 

Was that... Russian? “Желание. Ржавый...” You slowed in confusion, but Bucky’s eyes widened in horror before you could register the pattern. “No!” he shouted, plugging his ears in a desperate attempt to override the code, but the volume was deafening. “...Возвращение на Родину. Один...” In a last-ditch attempt to interrupt the sequence being read out, you sent a bolt of high pressure air hurtling towards the nearest speaker, crumpling it, but the others lining the hallway were more than loud enough to compensate. “Товарный вагон.” Silence resumed for a moment before Bucky straightened. “Я готов отвечать.” Ready to comply. 

Your heart sank. “Bucky, pl-.” You were cut off by the voice in the ceiling. “Dispatch subject in possession of element core and return it to the base center. Do not damage the core.” Bucky’s eyes locked onto you, and he raised his gun. Panicking, you threw up a force field. It held off the first spray of bullets, but in a confined and stuffy area like this, it wouldn’t last for long. You needed to get outside. The door was in your line of sight, directly behind Bucky. That was the problem. Strengthening the field as much as possible, you slowly began advancing towards him. 

As you got closer, the bullets’ ricochet paths started veering dangerously close to Bucky. Realizing this, he positioned the gun back across his shoulders and swapped to his knife. Bucky kicked the force field right in the middle, and although the winds spun his foot off, it wavered, weakened from the bullets. After absorbing another kick and two punches from his metal arm, the rushing air finally flickered down. You were completely unprotected. You had a knife in your belt and some explosive beads in a satchel, but even as you reached for the blade you knew you wouldn’t be able to hurt him. 

Bucky jabbed with the knife at your stomach and you sent a focused burst of air hurtling towards the blade, averting it at the last second. Your mind raced, trying to come up with any strategy to get to the door. Narrowly dodging an elbow to the face, you saw your window. Shoving him to the side with a gust of wind, you launched yourself past him, diving onto the hard floor. Rolling, you made a mad dash for the door. You heard a whooshing noise and your left calf erupted in pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Stumbling, you reached for the door handle when you heard the characteristic click of a gun cocking. 

You threw up a force field behind you, blocking a stream of bullets. You reached blindly for the door handle behind you, tugging it open. As you turned, a bullet ricocheted past the wall of wind and ripped into your right side as you almost fell outside, slamming the door behind you. Shaking, you reached for your radio. “Tony, Bucky got triggered and is trying to get the core back. I can’t hold him back for long. I need you to pick me up.” Not waiting for a response, you ran to a nearby tree, crouching behind it just as Bucky burst through the door. If you got the chance to form a low-pressure partial vacuum around his head, you might be able to make him pass out from hypoxia. You held out your hands, hiding them as best you could in the brush around the tree, and began to form the vacuum. Focused on tracking the blood drops you left in the muddy grass, Bucky didn’t notice the faint blurry film cast over his vision. 

The sound of the rain pattering on leaves masked your heavy breathing. Your vision was also starting to blur, but from blood loss and exhaustion. The bubble had sealed, and oxygen levels should have fallen enough to be noticeable. And noticed it was. Bucky clawed at the bubble, but since it was just air, there was nothing to punch through. Unfortunately, he realized that he needed to find you before his air ran out at the same time that the blood trail ended right in front of you. Your eyes locked. 

You formed your third force field just in time to block a kick that would have hit you square in the nose. It was stronger now, with the storm and free air, but you weren’t sure how long you could hold it and maintain the vacuum. Time to try something different. Hooking your foot around Bucky’s ankle, you took advantage of his air-deprived dizziness to flip him onto the ground, slamming his head onto a tree root. Summoning a concentrated force field around both his wrists, you kept both hands pinned to the ground. He strained against it and your head pounded with how much force you needed to exert to keep him there. Blood trickled from your nose. This could last for 10 seconds, tops. 

Your head snapped up as blasters started firing from the rooftop of the base at the approach of Tony’s quinjet. By this time, Bucky definitely should have passed out. You turned your gaze back to Bucky just to see his metal arm rip through its confine, and then the other one. With alarm, you saw no sign of the bubble you had put in place. It must have fizzled out when you had to focus so much power on keeping Bucky restrained. You raised your hands to cast yet another force field to hold until the quinjet landed, but they shook badly and all you managed was a feeble puff. Bucky unslung his gun from his shoulders and you dive away, but a round of bullets rip into the air and one lodges into your bicep. You look up to the quinjet to see Hawkeye on the hatch shoot an arrow into Bucky’s leg. The last thing you see before your vision fades to black is Bucky crumpling to the ground next to you and Cap leaping from the quinjet. 

________________________________

You slowly open your eyes. Your head feels pleasantly fuzzy, almost warm. As you open your eyes, some of that fogginess morphs into nausea. You’re in the quinjet. It’s quiet, the only noise the whir of the turbines and the splashing of rain on the roof and windows. Taking a deep breath, you push up onto your elbows. Your abs and arm burn, but thankfully the painkillers flowing down the IV line in your wrist numb most of the pain. “Woah, sit back down!” came a voice from behind you. You turn your head to see Natasha. “Oh. Hey, Nat.” 

“Lie. Back. Down.” Geez, okay. You settle back onto the medical cot. Natasha dragged her chair over to you. “How’re you feeling?” You smirked. “Actually, pretty okay. This is some heavy stuff. Maybe I should get shot more often.” Natasha just raises an eyebrow at you. The memory of what happened gradually returns as you shake free from the analgesic mental fog. “Um, how’s Bucky? I saw him get nailed by Hawkeye.” Nat sighs. “Well, he’s fine physically. That was a hollow arrow filled with a fast-acting sedative, just to get him out of Winter Soldier mode. Mentally... well, he’s outside. Do you want to talk to him?”

You nodded, biting your lip in concern. Natasha got up and dipped around the door, saying something. Once she was gone, you sat up, leaning against the wall for support. After a moment, Bucky’s head peeked around the door. He didn’t seem like he was going to move. “Hey, Bucky. You can come in, you know.” Slowly, he walked in, stopping near the door. He hugged himself with one arm, holding onto the bicep of his metal arm. He didn’t make eye contact. You tracked his gaze, eyes fixed on the bandages wrapped around your waist and arm. “Don’t worry about those. Bruce used some of his cell matrix regeneration support bandages. I’ve read about them in journals. Bullet wounds don’t even scar over if you get one on fast enough.” Bucky nodded. “Could you maybe come here? I would move but I’m tethered.” You motioned to your wrist. Reluctantly, he walked over and sat where Nat had been.

Bucky still wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Hey. It’s okay. You couldn’t do anything, and I don’t blame you for it.” At that, his eyes snapped up to meet yours. His eyes were red. “Why didn’t you stop me?,” he asked hoarsely. “If Tony had got there any slower, I would have killed you.” You sighed. “I knew if I tried to really hit you, I would have pulled my punches. So then I wouldn’t have made any real attack and I would be close enough for you to really mess me up. Just holding you down and blocking was the only way for me to get out alive. Anyway, we both made it out.” 

“It was this close to only one of us making it out!,” Bucky exclaimed. “I don’t get it. You almost died! Because of me!” His shoulders sagged and you could hear his voice crack. “I thought I lost you.” Bucky looked back up at you, blinking back tears. Some managed to escape and trail down his cheeks. Your own eyes stung seeing Bucky like this. “I’m right here, Bucky. I’m alive and so are you.” You pulled his head forward to kiss his forehead, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay.” Bucky let himself be moved without resistance, but his hands wavered before settling on either side of the cot, not wanting to further hurt you. Silently, you lower one hand and intertwine your fingers with his, resting in your lap. 

Eventually, Bucky’s back stopped shuddering with sobs and his breathing evened out. You wiped away residual tears with the back of your hand, gently tugging him next to you on the cot. The combined effect of keeping yourself upright with damaged ab muscles and the steady flow of the painkillers was beginning to take a toll on you, and you leaned a little into Bucky’s side. His brows furrowed in concern. He remained still for a moment before cautiously guiding your head into his lap. “Sorry, I guess these drugs are pretty strong,” you mumbled. “ ’S okay,” Bucky replied, running his fingers through your hair. 

After about thirty seconds, you were already dead asleep. Bucky tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Your pulse was slow but strong and he could just barely feel the beat on his thigh where your neck rested. You both stayed like that, still and safe, until the quinjet landed.

[gryphonablaze]

heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey who wants a one shot fic that I wrote for daughter of the lilies by the awesome meg syv, aka bludragongal who I’m not gonna actually tag here bc I’ve tagged her in half a billion posts already ,, 

the fic is titled ‘saving face’ because I love me some puns

‘Eugh, snow… I hate it, I hate it I hate it I hate being cold…’ Lyra was sitting as close to the fire Thistle had started as she could without being burned. 

‘Hey, are snowstorms a thing? Like magic storms, but snow?’ Thistle asked. Everyone was quiet for a while. 

‘Don’t know. Probably, but hope not. Anyway, cave is goot place to trap heat. Glad ve found. Also glad Thistle can make voodless fire. But vhy only now bring up?’

‘Beceause most places we camp chalk won’t stay on the ground, so it wouldn’t work anyway. It’s complicated, too. I don’t remember half the runes. And you can’t write ‘em down without setting the paper on fire.’

‘Then… how did you get it to work?’ Brent asked.

‘Muscle memory. I couldn’t teach someone how to do it, but I could draw it out with my eyes closed if I needed to. When I was a kid, every fireplace in the house used these. The kitchen, too.’ 

‘You vere raised by mage? Is that vhy you not go to magic school?’ 

… Oops.

‘Er… yeah.’

‘Hrm. Explains vhy you so goot.’ 

‘Ooooooh, backstory!!!!’ Lyra teased. ‘You’ve said your dad didn’t like animals, and apparently he’s a mage. What else do we know? I need to start taking notes.’

‘Hey, cut it out.’ Brent ‘gently’ punched her in the shoulder. Didn’t seem like he meant it, though. 

There was a noise like the clattering of a rock. 

The fire went out. 

Something whistled in the air. Thistle leaped to her feet at the same time that everyone else dropped like flies. 

‘What the--’

Behind her were five cave elves.

Her teammates were unconscious, and there was some sort of antimagic that put out the fire… and rendered her defenseless. 

Claws cut through the air. The cave elves expressed confusion when she dodged the blow. Thistle went for Brent’s discarded sword. 

They clearly hadn’t been expecting for her to be able to see in the dark. 

They seemed to get over that surprise quickly. 

One of them said something, and the others backed away. Did he want a one-on-one fight? 

Apparently.

Despite not knowing how to use it, Thistle was at an advantage with a weapon. Even so, she was still on the defensive. She dodged more than a few attempts at disarming her. 

Did cave elves have some sort of honor-duel system? Was that a thing? Would they be left alone if she won this fight? Was it to the death? Not like she could ask, between the language barrier and being preoccupied with combat. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other four standing over Lyra, a fist raised, ready to concuss her.

Oh, so this was a distraction. 

She flipped like a switch.

‘rrrrRRRRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!!’ Thistle took a powerful, haphazard swing at the dueling elf. His surprise earned him a shallow slash on his leg. 

You don’t get killed by being careful, she heard Gwen scold her. You get killed by being reckless. 

Yeah, well, she had no magic and was outnumbered five to one. No amount of careful could save someone from that. Might as well do something. 

With another roar she rushed at the other one, who immediately jumped back so as to avoid being skewered. 

A phwt! through the air and something stung her in the neck. She picked it out. It was a dart. Paralytic poison, by the feel of it. Would put someone out of commission just long enough to knock them unconscious. Good thing it wouldn’t affect her. 

Thistle chased another elf away from Brent and turned toward two that had just now stopped arguing over how to handle Orrig. She stepped forward. Something swept her feet out from under her. 

‘GAH!’ 

In an effort not to land on the blade, she tossed it aside with both hands. Which meant she could not catch her fall. Thistle hit the ground face-first. She tasted blood.

It was hard to get any air without inhaling blood. But Thistle was saved from the effort of trying. She choked as one of the cave elves pulled her up from the ground by her hood. 

And then dropped her. She landed hard on her knees, and fell into a coughing fit trying to catch her breath. She barely heard the cave elves panicking amongst themselves and running away. 

~~POV switch~~

The fire went out.

He couldn’t move. 

‘What the--’ 

Foreign chatter, the swing of steel, the sounds of struggle. Something was here, and Thistle was fighting it, alone, not using magic. If he had to guess, the talking sounded almost like the two cave elves that took a bite out of his arm a few months ago. 

He heard Thistle let out a scream of pure fury. Damn. He’d seen her angry before, but he was very glad that this wasn’t directed at him. 

He was starting to regain movement when he heard a yelp, followed immediately by a sickening crunch. Brent managed to remove the poison dart from his shoulder. Gods, this was like the cave elf job. Thistle was hurt, and he couldn’t do shit to help her. He could barely reach out an arm in futile desperation. 

A gasp. Distressed conversation. Something had started wailing like a child. He heard footsteps running away. Just like the cave elf job… 

As the assailants grew more distant, the fire relit itself and began to grow from a flame barely the size of a candle. Thistle noticed the light and pulled her hood up. There was just enough for Brent to see the outline of long, pointed ears and short fluffy hair. Ears like Lyra’s. So she was an elf? Huh.

No, right now was not the time for wondering what she was hiding. He could see blood on the ground and all down the front of her vest.

‘Are you guys alright?’ 

‘You’re asking us if we’re alright?’ Lyra’s words were slightly slurred. ‘You look like… I can’t even think of something witty. You’re covered in blood, and you’re asking if we’re alright?’ 

‘Yeah, well, poison is usually more dangerous than a nosebleed. If it isn’t wearing off by now, then it’s a different type than I thought, and that could make for some serious problems. But you’re talking, so that’s a good sign. Brent? Orrig?’

‘Vill be fine.’ 

‘Yeah, I’m okay.’ 

‘Good.’ Stiffly, Thistle got up and went over to her bag and dug out some gauze to hold against her face. ‘Now that the antimagic is gone,’ Her voice was nasally, ‘I’m gonna set some wards. I should’ve done that first thing.’  she started grumbling. ‘It even crossed my mind, but I chose not to, I almost got us all kidnapped or killed…’ 

‘Did you know there vere things in cave?’ Orrig asked sternly.

‘Well… no, but I still--’

‘Then is not your fault.’ 

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Three

(Gif's not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Three starts after the cut. (Chapter Two can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Three

Chapter warnings: Smut, alcohol consumption (moderate), mentions of contraception and of pregnancy.

I think that’s it, but this chapter killed my brain – it was very difficult to write and I feel like I botched it. There are various important moments in this chapter that I found very hard to translate from my brain into words. And the smut, oh my God, it’s so bad!

"You know, when you came to me all bossy and told me to lose my clothes, I had something a lot different in mind." Sy grumbled from the bed, where he was sat wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

Ada laughed and turned around, sticking out her tongue at him before going back to what she was doing, namely sorting through Sy's clothes in the walk-in closet. She slid a pair of jeans off its hangers and threw it at him without looking back. "I admit that I probably don't need as many clothes as I own, but you're definitely a minimalist."

Sy grunted noncommittally, he was not amused, but tried on the jeans all the same. They didn't fit, he couldn't pull them up past the thighs. "Hey darlin'," he called her, a hint of amusement audible in his voice.

She turned around at the pet name and then forced herself not to laugh at the sight in front of her. Sy had already been a burly man when they had met, but it seemed he had managed to gain even more muscle mass in the past few months, now looking like an absolute bear of a man. Ada grinned and tilted her head at the cardboard box at the end of the bed. "Put those in the donation pile."

"Yes, ma'am," Sy said, getting up and doing as asked.

Ada grabbed her small pencil and added another item to the list. "So, you need jeans, new boots, sweatshirts, t-shirts..." She went on, listing the items. What he needed was a whole new wardrobe and she was the woman for the mission.

Turning around, she found Sy rolling his eyes at her. "I ain't need no new t-shirts, woman. I got the black one, the red one and the khaki one."

Ada chuckled and approached him on the bed, coming to stand between his legs. It was unusual for her to be taller than him, and with him sitting on the bed and her standing up, she still didn't have that much of an advantage. With a grin, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead before pulling back to look into his eyes. Instinctively, almost an automatism, his hands found purchase on her hips.

"Last time you wore your red 'DILLIGAF' t-shirt, three separate kids stopped and asked you what the acronym stood for and you looked at me for help."

Sy held her gaze, not keen on losing the staring contest. Ada didn't want to relent but she didn't want to force him either, not after what had happened while grocery shopping. "It's okay if you really don't want to go, I won't for-"

Sy shook his head, silencing her before she could even finish. "Let's get this shopping over with. But I'm warning you: I'll be complaining the whole time."

For a moment, Ada pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced but eventually her frown was replaced with a grin. "I would expect nothing else from you, grumpy bear," she teased before turning around, excited about the task at hand.

Sy left to get dressed but not before landing a playful smack on her ass.

°°°

It went just as Ada had imagined. Sy sat down on the sofa at the far end of the store, keeping everything in sight, and she would occasionally come up to him with suggestions. To an onlooker, they resembled a devout worshipper trying to make offerings to a very picky and very handsome god.

His replies to the items she presented to him went anywhere from 'no' to 'not a chance in hell', without forgetting the classic 'you lost your mind, darlin’'.

After visiting three stores and Ada trying to visually guess his size because Sy absolutely refused to try out any of the clothes, they had managed to get most of what he needed. It just turned out to be near recreations of the clothes he already owned, just bigger and newer. And with more child friendly texts.

They stopped for coffee by the center of the open-air mall. True to himself, Sy ordered just that - a coffee with 'none of the fancy shit'.

"You're sure you don't want to go to any of your stores?" Sy asked, watching her sip on her colorful drink.

Well, the idea was tempting but she already had more candles and blankets than necessary. And she knew he was uneasy even if he was hiding it well. "No, it's okay. I know you don't like shopping and I can just ask some friends if I really want to go." Sy hummed.

By the time Ada finished her season exclusive drink, she noticed Sy was staring at a shop window. She was almost excited that he was finally interested in buying clothes before noticing that it was some video game advertisement.

"You can buy the game, if you want. No need to stare," she teased.

He reverted his attention back to her. "It's only compatible with the new console that came out last month and that one's sold out." Ada started beaming as he spoke. "What?"

"Well... a few months ago, I came across the launch announcement on the Internet. And I had seen the old model in the study, so I knew you liked it and since you were coming home soon..."

Sy's eyes became even bluer for a moment, a huge grin threatening to illuminate his face. "Are you saying that...?"

Ada laughed, shaking her head. He looked like a kid on Christmas Day. "Yes. It's wrapped in gift paper in the basement under the utility sink."

"I love you, wife."

Again, she scoffed. "Yeah, yeah... Now let's go get you that damn game."

°°°

Later that day, or rather night, Sy wasn't even paying attention to the movie they, or rather, she was watching. He had gotten the gist of it - superheroes teaming up together to save the world - that sufficed him. His focus was entirely on his wife nested between his legs, her back resting against his chest.

When they got home from the mall and went to sort through his clothes and belongings, finally unpacking the rest of his duffel bag, Ada came across his dog tags. She asked if she could keep them. Sy frowned at the odd request but agreed nonetheless, shrugging dismissively.

Ada then proceeded to put the chain around her neck and slide the tags under her blouse. He had stared at her a little confused; she was smiling, looking all smug as if she had managed to trick him out of something valuable and not just two cheap metal tags hanging off an equally cheap chain.

"The fact that I get to have both your tags means I am very lucky to have gotten you back alive and in one piece. I don't want to ever forget that."

With his height advantage, even sitting behind her, Sy could see the chain disappearing under her pajamas and the tags resting in the valley of her breasts. Somehow, the sight made him feel even more possessive than the wedding band on her ring finger.

Things always had felt slightly uncertain with Ada, there had always been the shadow of a doubt in his mind when it came to her. They had gotten married on a whim and she knew he was a green beret, deployed most of the time. It's an entirely different thing to marry someone you get to see for a couple of weeks every once in a blue moon and to actually live, share a home with someone. When Sy had told her, he was coming home for good over the phone, he had half expected her to ask him for a divorce or to find himself alone at the airport. His face hadn't shown it, but when Ada put on the damn chain he had hated wearing in the goddamn desert where it would chafe his nape or get tangled in his chest hairs, Sy felt as happy as a sand boy.

She seemed honest when she said there was nothing going on with that Tom guy. Not that he could truly blame her if there was, even if it would have broken him. His parents had been married for over thirty-five years and his mom found a new boyfriend not even two years after his father's passing.

And yet, Ada was there, cuddling with him on the couch. She hadn't served him with divorce papers upon his arrival. Instead, they had spent the past few days pretty much glued together as they usually did when he was on leave.

Maybe it was time he started to believe that he had come home to his wife and she really wasn't going anywhere. Especially since she hadn't asked him to wear a condom ever since he got home and he hadn't seen her contraceptive pills on her nightstand either. Sy even checked the bathroom cabinet where he knew she kept some medication, but he didn't find anything there either. This morning, he had even considered asking her about it, but he figured that if she hadn't mentioned anything so far, it was because she wanted it to be a surprise and he didn't want to ruin it. Though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't going to be checking the same cabinet for pregnancy tests in the future.

"You good?" Ada asked as the film came to an end, tilting her head back but only getting a view of his beard. It made her smile, though. Sy really was her bear: big, strong and hairy.

"Yeah, I just," he stammered slightly as if waking up from his thoughts. "I was thinking we should probably change the stairs' railing into something safer before we have kids running up and down."

"Yep, that's not gonna happen," Ada chipped in, jumping off the couch before starting to fold the blanket.

"What?" Sy blurted out, turning all his attention to her. "The railing or the kids?"

"The kids," she replied nonchalantly, now laying the blanket in the basket by the sofa. "If you want to redo the stairs, that's fine. I think we could even paint them white."

In a second, Sy was up on his feet, his imposing stature crowding her. "What do you mean, that ain't happening? You don't want kids?"

Ada frowned, suddenly uncomfortable at his intense stare. "No.”

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Why did you assume kids were a given?" Ada retorted, taking a few steps back to put some distance between them. "I figured that if it was important to you, you'd have mentioned it sooner, at some point at least."

Sy had to fight the urge to yell at her, the feeling of betrayal and even anger overwhelming him. If he never spoke of it before, it was because he didn't want to have kids while he was deployed and miss their first years. Instead, he forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath. "Is that a not now or a not ever?"

Ada looked away for a second, gathering her thoughts before moving her eyes back to him. "I got a new Mirena coil a couple of months ago, so I'm set for the next three years at least."

He had no idea what the fuck a 'Mirena coil' was supposed to be but it wasn't hard to figure out. Instinctively, his hand went to the back of head, raking through his short hair. "Just to be clear, Ada," Sy paused, his nostrils flaring, "you don't want children?"

It didn't even take her a second to start regretting her counter after it came out. "Do you?" She snapped back, the enunciation of the 'you' harsher than she had intended.

The effect was instant, her question giving him pause. Did he? Now reflecting on it, Sy realized he had never asked himself that question. It was just something that you did. First you got a house, then you found a wife and started a family. He had never thought about it as an option, just as the next step if he was lucky enough not to die in Iraq.

"I'm so sorry," Ada apologized, her tone alone expressing her regret. She took his hand, forcing him to look at her only to find her eyes glistening as she attempted not to cry. "I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't questioning your parenting skills. I know you'd make a fantastic father, Sy." Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath before opening them again, their corners wet with tears this time. "I just never saw myself having kids, but if it's something you really -"

"I ain't gonna force you to start a family with me," Sy rebuffed, offended at the very thought. The abruption of it even making Ada smile, if only briefly.

She shook her head quickly. "What I meant was that if you want to be a father, then I wish for you to become one. But... I won't be a part of that scenario."

"No." He said, dismissing the idea as soon as she voiced it, catching her hands in his and stilling them midair when she started gesticulating instead.

"No, this is important!" Ada protested. "I want you to be happy, Sy. And I won't stand in the way of your happiness. You deserve to live the life you want and if that includes a family -"

"No." Sy ordered, his tone final and resolute, silencing her instantly. He had never used this voice with her in the past, usually reserving it for the soldiers in his unit. "Stop with that ridiculous suggestion, woman." Ada blinked. It was obvious in her eyes that she wanted to argue but she didn't dare defy his hard stare.

Sy closed his eyes and swallowed, searching for the right words. "The choice between having kids with some other woman or getting to be with you, is a damn easy one. I'd rather we be a family of two than have children with some woman I could never love."

She was crying again, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Had he said something wrong? Ada didn't let him wonder for too long, her hand fisting in his t-shirt to pull him down to her lips for a ravenous kiss, their teeth clicking together.

"You know," Ada breathed out against his lips once they parted for air. "It doesn't have to be just the two of us. I am partial to pets."

Later in bed, with his sleeping wife snoring softly and her head resting on his chest, Sy tried to process their conversation only to realize there wasn't much to process at all. It didn't feel that much like giving up on a dream, as it felt like defining the contours his future with Ada. All that mattered to him was that it was a future with the woman whose contagious laugh he had manifested in his mind time and time again to drown out the sound of gunfire and make it through. Children might have been a bonus, he wouldn’t deny that, but their absence was something he could live with. He couldn’t same the thing about Ada.

°°°

"Got your," Sy paused, frowning as he read off the label, entering the kitchen, "Willamette Valley Pinot noir. How many do you need?"

Ada looked away from the oven to find him carrying four bottles of her favorite wine. Did he think they were drunkheads? "Do you want for Tom to have to spend the night here because we're all over the legal alcohol limit and unable to drive?" She laughed.

Sy grimaced. "One bottle it is," he announced, making her laugh all the harder as he set down a single bottle on the table that was already set before casting away the other bottles in the pantry - where they did not, in fact, belong.

Just as was his habit, Sy sneaked up on his wife as she leaned over the kitchen counter, putting away the remaining ingredients and hugged her back to him with one arm. He then dipped a finger in the jar she had filled with leftover caramel and brought it to mouth.

She gasped at his manners. "You can't just stick your fingers in everything that's sweet and lick it off, Sy," Ada chided. She heard it as soon as the words left her mouth, but it was too late.

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest behind her. "Can't I?" Sy goaded her mockingly.

Ada took a deep breath. She knew where this was headed and they didn't have time. It was primordial her pie didn't overcook, and Tom would be there soon. "You know what I meant," she groaned, attempting to sound annoyed but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Do I?" He whispered against her ear, his beard tickling her skin and his warm breath making her shiver as he slid his hand under her skirt until he was cupping her damp sex over her panties. "Are you certain about that, darlin'?"

Her hands held on to the counter and her eyes closed as he started rubbing his hand along her folds over the fabric. He was also beginning to harden behind at an impressive rate. The temptation made her whimper. "We don't have time," Ada protested, even as her head fell back against him and she leaned into his touch, silently begging for more as she not-so innocently ground her ass on his crotch.

A swift glance at the clock on the wall told him all he needed to know. They had seven minutes. It would have to be enough, Sy decided. Time being of the essence, he was determined not to waste any.

“Open up your legs for your captain, darlin’,” he rasped, his nose nuzzling in the shallow of her neck, his hands already busy bunching up the soft fabric of her skirt around her waist.

“Sy,” Ada lightheartedly protested his eagerness. The idea was certainly enticing but they truly didn’t have time and she really needed to keep an eye on the pie. “We can’t-“

“I said, open your legs,” he repeated, gritting out the words as his foot snuck between her ankles, forcing her legs open himself. Sy barely had to apply any pressure, Ada complied instantly at his tone. There were very few situations in which she let him boss her around and this was one of them.

His hands brushed over her naked thighs, enjoying the way she shivered as he did so. Sliding his fingers higher up her inner legs, Sy expertly slid the scanty lace of her thong aside in order to access her clit. Ada keened under his touch, the rough skin of his finger pads slowly circling her already swollen nub. She couldn’t decide between pressing into his touch or attempting to pull away from it; it was both too little and too much all at once. “Already so wet and I’ve barely done anything to you,” he teased, hoping to sound less worked up than he was. Sy was set on keeping the upper hand. “Tell me, what is it that you want, darlin’?”

Ada whined as he removed his fingers from her core, his hands going to her hips instead and pulling her to him, letting her feel how hard he was for her. His wife reacted by rubbing her ass against him, determined to get what she wanted without having to voice it. “Sy,” she complained when he didn’t bite the bait, still grinding on him, surely getting his jeans wet with her slick.

“That’s not how it works, darlin’,” he chastised, going back to teasing her. His touch was ghostlike, too light to provide any real satisfaction and she groaned in frustration. “You have to ask for it like a good girl.”

He felt her body tense up against his as she tried chasing the friction of his fingers where she wanted them most, but Sy drew away before she could. “I swear to God I am going to make you regret-“

Smack. Ada gasped at the sharp spank on her ass, her body bending over the counter at the impact. Her ass was just too tempting in this position and Sy was running out of patience. “Ask like a good girl,” he ordered between gritted teeth, his hand descending to palm his crotch, hoping for some relief. Her little stunt was turning him on more than it should have.

“God, Sy, just fuck me already!” She sobbed, her legs rubbing together out of their own volition but her husband stayed put, rubbing his palm of his covered cock as he watched her. He wasn’t going to give up any time soon, she realized with a strangled sigh. “Please fuck me, captain,” she whispered, relenting.

Within a second, Sy was unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper. His cock was red, hard and throbbing impatiently. With time running out, Sy pushed himself into her without a warning. Ada whined at the stretch, gripping at the flour covered kitchen counter as one of his hands grabbed hold of her hips, the other moving to her breast. Then he started ploughing into her like there was no tomorrow.

Ada kept whimpering his name, but even she didn’t know what it was she was asking for. Her hips were digging into the cold stone and she knew there would be bruises come morning. He had barely started fucking her and she was already beginning to tense up with how worked up she was. “Are you gonna cum for me, darlin’?” Sy grunted, his jaw tense as her inner muscles clenched all around his cock. Ada nodded meekly, unable to speak. Just when he was starting to doubt he’d be able to hold off long enough for her to climax, Ada cried out, her tight walls milking him as she came. Sy exploded inside her with a strangled groan, slowly coming to a still inside her.

The doorbell rang. At seven o’clock on the dot.

"Fucking Brits and their punctuality!" Sy cursed, still panting before pulling away from her and tepidly leaving her warmth. Ada chuckled at his reaction, holding onto the counter for support for a few more seconds until she felt somewhat steady on her feet.

Sy tucked himself back into his pants and she adjusted her skirt over her thighs again before letting out a panicked squeak and turning around. Her front was covered in the flour she has spread on counter for the pie and the white handprint on her breast where he had held on to her was very visible on her black blouse. Sy couldn't keep himself from laughing. She looked great if you asked him, especially since Tom would be going to see just how well he took care of her. "I'll go get changed and you get the door!"

°°°

Sy’s eyes widened, positively surprised as he brought the first forkful of boeuf bourguignon to his mouth. The dish hadn’t appeared particularly appetizing on the plate, but it tasted so much better than it looked. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ada glancing at him with an ‘I told you so’ smirk.

“I received a new shipment of books at the store today,” Tom told Ada in between bites. He owned a bookstore downtown, Sy had learnt. “There’s a new murder mystery I’m sure you’ll love.”

Ada stilled, a look of excitement washing over her face. “Is there… poison?”

Tom laughed. He had expected that question from her. “Ah, yes. And it’s set in the 1920s!”

Sy glanced from the one to the other, forcing himself not to sigh. Ada’s excitement was adorable, but Tom was grating on his nerves. All the conversation so far had been about novels they’d read recently.

“Please tell me that you saved me a copy.” Ada shrieked enthusiastically, prompting Tom to laugh before he suddenly producer a hardcover out of seemingly thin air. As if she was scared that he was only taunting her with it, Ada leaned over the table and snatched the book out of his hand, a smug look on her face before she started reading the back cover. Sy looked at her and chuckled, shaking his head fondly at her almost childish elation.

"So, where did you two meet?" Tom asked, shifting his attention to Sy. "Ada always told me that it was a story for another time."

Sy's grip tightened on his cutlery. Admittedly, the strong animosity toward the man had faded, but he was still not keen on making conversation with the man. "Here in Austin," Sy replied before going back to his food. Ada had to stifle a laugh at the face Tom made at the curt answer.

"I'll tell you," she offered, capturing Tom's attention. "I had just graduated with my Masters and managed to land a PhD position here in Austin. I was freshly debarked out of France and I was only to start to start mid January but I flew over in December already - wanting to fly with my own wings and all that." Tom chuckled as she gestured derisively with the story.

"Anyway, I hadn't found a flat yet, all my stuff was in a storage unit and I had the brilliant idea of going to Vegas. On my own. In a 1979 black Camaro rental."

Sy finally looked up from his plate. "It was from 1980 and it was dark gray, not black, darling’."

Ada found herself staring curiously at her husband as he interrupted her story before laughing. That's what it took to get him to talk?

"So, it was a 1979, dark gray Camaro,” Ada correctly herself. “Anyway, obviously it did not have a navigation system and I stopped at one of the few open bars open at 5pm on Christmas Eve, ordered a beer and tried making sense of the maps I found in the glovebox, making a list of the different exits and turns I would have to make.

"Sy was there drinking with some friends – loud friends, might I add. Well, I am struggling with the maps and he must notice because he approaches me at the counter, takes of his cap and asks me if I need help, in his southern drawl. Actually, no wait, his exact words were” Ada paused, clearing her voice. “’Need some help reading that map, darling?'" Tom laughed at her ridiculous attempt to imitate Sy’s baritone voice. To Ada's surprise, Sy blushed. It was barely visible beneath his beard, but it was there and it was the cutest thing she had ever seen.

"I looked down at the map she was studying and asked her if she was headed somewhere on the east coast. She then slowly looked at me and confidently told me she was going to Nevada, until I pointed out that she was highlighting the road that went East and her face burned up, all self-conscious." Sy recounted, now laughing as well and even Tom scoffed. " I said: ‘At this point, even a navigation system can’t help you, darlin’. You’d need an escort.”

Ada bit her lip, remembering that moment clearly in her mind. She had flushed, staring at the muscular man that towered next to her. He was burly and rugged and yet still exhaled a little softness behind it all. 'Well then, will you be my escort to Vegas? I am leaving tonight,' she had blurted out before she could stop herself.

"I cannot believe you drove from Austin to Las Vegas with a stranger, Ada!" Tom said teasingly, clearly surprised by his friend’s spontaneity and recklessness.

"Yes, I made him miss Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his family, and the best part is that we got married the day we reached Vegas on New Year’s Eve.” They had stopped a few times along the way, visited some towns and she had only known Sy for seven days when we got hitched at the kitschiest chapel imaginable. “We had to hurry to get a marriage license before the courthouse closed and a half-naked dude officiated because everyone else was already booked.”

Sy chuckled, sitting back against his chair and wrapping his arm around Ada's shoulders possessively. "She made me wear my old uniform that lasted all of fifteen minutes and was presided by an officer dressed as a cherub." He gestured at the framed picture standing on the cupboard next to them.

They looked absolutely ridiculous. Sy's uniform made him look too serious next to a tipsy Ada who wore the only white dress she had been able to find on such short notice and that definitely hadn’t been meant for a wedding because it turned out to be partly see-through under the camera flashes.

Ada shared some more stories about Vegas before excusing herself to the bathroom, the conversation instantly dying out as she disappeared, leaving both men in an uncomfortable silence until Sy’s curiosity got to him.

"So, you and her...?" Sy left his question unfinished. He wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was asking, he just wanted to know all there was to know.

In front of him, Tom gracefully dabbed him mouth with the ivory napkin and shook his head, with a tight smile. "No, nothing of the sort," the Englishman replied dismissively before Sy's inquiring stare forced him to expound. "It's not that I didn't think of pursuing something more with her, but Ada made it very clear from the beginning that she was a married woman and a faithful wife."

Sy hummed noncommittally, though internally he was reassured and maybe even elated. Mike had really filled his head with shit. Deep down, he always knew his Ada wasn't like that, it just felt good to hear it.

"My wife, for whom I left England, passed away only two months before Ada and I met. I was going through a rough patch then - and that's a euphemism. Carla had been talking to me about watching a particular film ever since it had been announced, it was an adaptation of her favorite novel." Tom explained, a smile warming up his features. "When she died before it premiered, I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to watch it without her... But the tickets had already been purchased and part of me hoped that for two hours, it would feel like Carla was sitting right next to me."

Sy listened, feeling sympathetic, if not a little uncomfortable by the man’s openness. He still wanted to dislike Tom but at the same time he couldn't imagine the wreck he'd be if Ada were to die on him.

"The cinema was packed and to accommodate a large group, Ada asked whether I minded if she sat down next to me,” Tom paused briefly, smiling at the memory. “I think it was listening to her laugh, cry and eat popcorn next to me during the movie that gave me the strength to drive home instead of off a cliff that night."

Sy gulped down the rest of his wine, still not a fan of the taste as he faced the Englishman before him. Not that he would ever say it out loud, but if he had failed to make it alive out of that godforsaken desert, he had to concede Tom would not have been the worst for Ada.

Silence fell again and Sy became uncomfortable, deciding to pour Tom some more wine. “I am glad Ada and you were there for each other.” When I should’ve been there for her myself but wasn’t, Sy thought but left it unsaid.

Tom chuckled as he observed the burly man in front of him. For all his muscles and gruff exterior, he carried the slightest of insecurities when it came to his wife. "There's a thick silver notebook Ada has kept for a couple of years. Maybe you should have a look at it.”

Sy wanted to ask what he was talking about but was interrupted by the sound of Ada's high heels clicking on the wooden floor as she made her way back to them. "I hope you weren't talking ill of me behind my back," she teased, squeezing Sy's shoulder absentmindedly. "Now, who's ready for my slightly overcooked tarte tatin.” Ada eyed her husband pointedly.

[deancodedcastielenby]

It started out with a XX

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I am putting Tags first so I don’t forget like the horrible trash panda I am: @casmick-consequences , @proudcasgirl , & @paintdriesfaster You have asked to be tagged, or for Casmick you are the reason this is here. The Date Continues  This is 100% unbeta’d and I am litterally on my work computer writing in between phone calls so. I apologize for any spelling errors or punctuation since I am a trash panda. XX love you all, enjoy

Castiel is under the impression that Mick Davies is an interesting human. The man seems charmed by many of the words that Castiel uses, and has no problems showing his obvious interest. There have been other humans in his time in this vessel that have shown a reaction to his person, and now that this body is his and no longer Jimmy’s it is an interesting notion that he would be coveted carnally from anyone. Still, Mick is interesting and the conversation that he engages in with Castiel over a shared dinner have kept Castiel enthralled at least. The dinner was odd, it still tasted like molecules, but Mick made a point to have him try a bite or two of everything and explain how he found the flavors. 

The white sauce on the noodles, for example, Castiel knew was called Alfredo sauce, but Mick described it much better before he had Castiel try a bite off his fork. There was flavor that he hadn’t expected, on top of the molecules, but perhaps being described before eating was the difference. No one had ever thought to try that before. The breaded mushrooms were an odd texture that Castiel was not sure that he liked, but Mick did say that sometimes the dipping sauces made them better, and the sweet dessert was delicious, and tasted faintly of coffee. That was a beverage he missed from being human. 

As far as humans go, Mick was charming and rather handsome, though at this point Castiel realized he had a type. Claire had pointed it out when he described Mick to her before the date. His eyes may not be the right shade of green that he prefers, but they are quite beautiful none the less. In fairness Mick had also dressed up for the occasion and was wearing an outfit similar to his own, though he was wearing brown. That was a brown slacks and waistcoat over a light blue shirt and a matching brown blazer. The overall effect was very charming, and very appealing. Castiel had on occasion browsed through different magazines and had seen similar outfits on different models, so he assumed it was a fashion thing, but Mick was able to pull it off nicely.  Of course there was a few glasses of wine with dinner, and Castiel was able to sip them carefully during conversation. It was true he had a rather high tolerance for alcohol, so it wasn’t that he needed to, but he had tried to keep pace with Mick to make sure that he blended in. Over all Castiel would say that the date was a success. Many times throughout the conversation he was able to pick up on the different flirtations that Mick was sending his way, and apparently he was sending back. Once or twice he was able to say something that made Mick laugh loudly and give him a wide smile that made his face mirror one in return. To say that dinner was pleasant would be an understatement.  After dinner Mick asked if he would like to take a walk and continue their conversation. It was getting darker outside, but still there was plenty of light with the street lamps and there was such a quaint little park they could walk around. It was simple to agree, and so they left hand in hand after Mick paid for their meal. “I insist Castiel, honestly it was mostly my meal anyway.” That was another strange feeling, being hand in hand with Mick. There was a brief moment where he remembered Daphne, she would hold his hand sometimes when they were out and about, but he never had this strange intimacy with another person after his memories came back. The hand in his own was not a dainty one, it was on the larger side with blunt fingers and the cool metal of a ring on his pinky finger. Over all he experience was new.  At one point Mick had released his hand, and of course Castiel frowned when he missed it immediately, only to have him slip Castiel’s hand in the crook of his elbow and seemingly step closer. “I am honestly surprised that you came out with me this evening.” They were on their second loop of the small park, their gait was slow and measured to eat up more time. Almost as if neither one was quite ready for the evening to end. “It seemed as though you were very much in the Winchester’s pockets and that they did not like me very much.”  “They do have a negative disposition to the British Men of Letters, Arthur Ketch left a rather bad taste in their mouths and I do not blame them for that, however they are not my keepers and I am free to make opinions on other humans.” Ever the peace keeper, or so it seemed, Castiel tried for a neutral ground. That was until Mick barked out a bit of a laugh. 

“I would suppose so, though not all of us Brits are quite like Ketch. I am hoping you would have a better opinion of me after our date. Perhaps I should inquire as to another?” It seemed the man was looking at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, which was odd, but it only took a moment to realize that he was asking Castiel out on another outing. This was courting wasn’t it? The odd human custom? 

“I would not be against another outing, though I had thought you were to return to England soon.” The words were out before Castiel could reel them back, but they were true none the less. Mick did not know that Castiel could travel to England with just a thought, so it wasn’t that the distance was a problem. Castiel would just like to know where he stood, it was so hard to gage with Dean where exactly things lay between them when Dean was in denial and never spoke. Perhaps this was Castiel’s way of making sure that whatever this was with Mick, it was different.   “I will have to return home eventually of course, but I would very much enjoy spending time with you whilst I can. Your conversation skills are spectacular, it is rather hard to have meaningful conversations about things anymore, and you are quite a sight to look at as well so that is a bonus for me.” These words were said with a smile and a pat to Castiel’s shoulder, “I am aware that our engagement here is limited, not just by time. I have eyes, I know I am not your first choice and that is fine with me, honestly. I just think that while I am here, I can show you what a relationship should be like, so that you know.” Stopping their circle of the park, they were in a bit of shadow of a corpse of trees but they could still see the stars if they were to look up. They didn’t.  “I will not take advantage of you, or your kindness. I want us to be open and honest with each other, so that when I do have to return to England, we could still walk away as friends and you can come to me with anything. Though right now, I would very much like to kiss you if you would be amenable?” The words were honest and open, much like the expression that Mick was wearing. Mick wanted a relationship, in what ever capacity that he could while he was here that could translate to a great friendship when he left, and honestly what did Castiel have to loose? The want to experience something good and meaningful after watching the one he wanted jump into bed with countless others....  “I am amenable.” The response was gruff and quiet, almost an afterthought, though Mick had heard it if the wide smile on his face was anything to go by. Oh so gently one of Mick’s hands cupped the side of Castiel’s head and guided their lips together in a sweet and soft touch. The kiss itself was chaste, but it seemed to cause an ache somewhere in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. It was genuine intimacy and affection, something he never knew he honestly needed, but with the gentle press of lips it was something that he was honestly going to crave. After a moment or two of soft pressure Mick pulled back to gage the reaction on the angel’s face.  “Well, no fireworks which is a shame, but I can live with that.” A slightly cocky smile lit the side of his mouth, “Unless you’d like another?”  “I always expected that kisses would be... more than just a press of lips.” It wasn’t that Castiel hadn’t experienced kisses, because he had on a few occasions, namely with women. Though the thought made him tilt his head slightly and squint in confusion. 

“Ah, you were expecting more passion and enthusiasm perhaps? What kind of Brit do you take me for, a savage? This is a first date after all, need to keep you on your toes and coming back for a second one.” There was something akin to mischief in Mick’s eyes before he laughed, “well I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.” With that he did pull Castiel’s head down once again to meet his lips, this time with a bit more of a firmer touch. The scrape of stubble against his skin was a bit firmer now, and he could actually feel it. After some maneuvering to fit their lips just so, a hint of a tongue pressed against the seam of the angel’s lips and he opened to the onslaught of Mick’s rather talented tongue. 

Unsure of exactly how long they stood there, in the slight shadow of the trees kissing quite like teenagers, they broke apart. A soft flush to Mick’s features made him more endearing in a way as he seemed to shiver and attempt to take a step back. It was a strange sensation feeling Mick release him, as it seemed that the hand that was not tangled into his hair had found his hip, not that he had noticed at the time. “Well now, that was... something else. Shall I return you home then Cinderella? Or is there a night in shining muscle around here somewhere waiting to whisk you away?”  “I do know how to drive.” Something about the way that Mick said the words was unsettling, though Dean did tell him to call when he was ready to be picked up. Castiel was an angel of the lord and he could take care of himself. 

“Of course you do, I never said you couldn’t. Perhaps you could walk me to my car then?” Mick gave a soft chuff and a slight bow of an apology holding out his elbow again. Castiel missed that strange closeness so he nodded and tucked his hand into the crook and walked Mick back to the restaurant and to his car. Luckily he did not see the Impala anywhere on their walk, and Castiel indulged Mick with another kiss at the car before watching him climb inside. “Do let me know when you are free for another Date.” Mick said after yet another soft press of lips before driving off and down the street.  It was a few moments before Castiel moved and headed back to the park, keeping himself invisible from any kind of eyes until he was standing where he and Mick had been only a little while before. Pulling out his phone he sent off a text to Dean, letting him know that he was not going to need a ride home, nor would he be back that evening. There was far too much for the angel to think about at that moment, and far to much for him to replay to even attempt to be near Dean right now. Instead he found himself sitting on a bench in that park, staring at the emptiness of the night, not getting a reply from Dean at all, but that was fine. The hunter had probably fallen asleep anyway, it was better for him to get the rest than worry about Castiel.