#seeing how you're unable to hide it even with care

[bandtrees]

the thing about curly is that it feels like a copout to describe him as "too nice" but i think that really is the situation with him. i feel when talking about him as a leader there's a lot of talk about the anya and jimmy stuff but i feel not a lot about the parts that show his passiveness causing problems before then.

most notably, that he let daisuke aboard a ship not made for five people, and that he told the others about the layoffs before he was meant to. both very well-intentioned, interpersonally Nice things to do, that were welcome as a friend who cares about the crew, but less so as an authority figure who's supposed to have a spine about those sorts of things.

he's not really thinking about the repercussions for revealing this information, or the impact it'll have on his crew's mental states in the months they have left for their last haul, because in his eyes - and this is something he tells both anya and jimmy - they'll Get Through It Together. curly is someone who reassures the people around him a lot in his dialogue. he cares a lot about people but does, in fact, care too much, and when it comes down to it, he can't do much except care.

an important thing to note with the anya situation (specifically in contrast to the "curly only cared about jimmy" take i see around) is that curly does reassure her, and i think did genuinely believe what he was saying when he told her everything was going to be okay and that they'd figure it out together. it's just that he also told those things to jimmy, and when you're a person as passive as curly, if you don't put your foot down people are going to weasel in and use that as an opening.

curly was a good friend, but not a good leader. there's only so much that reassurances without tangible action can do for someone in the state anya was in. he likely let daisuke board because he felt for and liked him, disregarding the fact it was literally unsafe for him to do so because of the pod situation. he told the crew they were getting laid off because it felt right for him to do so, he acted as a "friend" and not as a "leader".

and this is really cool contrast to jimmy, imo, who has no sense of compassion and is quick to take impulsive, ruthless decisions he expects praise for by sole virtue of being hard. jimmy would rather mouthwash someone's open wounds and force another to commit cannibalism than mercy-kill them - because someone dying under his care means he failed, and he can't have that, and so he will drag out their suffering for as long as humanly possible. he can't actually face the consequences of his actions.

both of them have this mantra of "i can fix it" without actually fixing much of anything - however i think curly differs in that he's a compassionate person who doesn't mind being on the same level as his crew (for better or worse), meanwhile jimmy can never shake the title of "captain" and the inflated sense of importance it gives him and that he projects onto curly. curly cares but doesn't act, jimmy acts but doesn't care.

BUT - i think a really interesting thing here too is how they act in the immediate danger of the crash. jimmy hides with his hands on his head, catatonic, while curly rushes in to try and salvage the ship even when it'll endanger him. jimmy is unable to face the gravity of what he did, while curly - even if he's not a good captain socially - is willing to put himself in danger to fix it. it gives the impression that while curly can't raise a hand against other people, he's willing to go down with his ship and put others before himself.

and putting others before himself is his entire relationship with jimmy, no? curly's dialogue with his crewmates is very reassuring, with a generous "we'll fix it together" attitude (see his patience with daisuke in the foam scene, and how he offers to do jimmy's psych eval when anya doesn't want to (compared to how jimmy would likely handle those situations, as we see when he yells at anya when asked to do tasks for her)) - BUT i would argue it's even moreso apparent with jimmy.

curly's povs, in my mind, offer the views on characters we don't see from jimmy's perspective, as jimmy cherrypicks scenes to paint anya as incompetent, daisuke as stupid and spoiled, swansea as mean and unstable - with curly, we see anya is gossipy and likes to joke around, daisuke is willing to fix problems by himself even if he struggles, et cetera. and with curly, we see, in how he talks to and about jimmy, he's very... concerned for him? and walks on eggshells around him.

^^^ after jimmy has pivoted a conversation curly was having about his life to be about his insecurities, and curly takes the bait and reassures him.

in general, he seems wary of jimmy as someone who will blow up if not reassured.

and he talks to, and about him, like he's taken on this quasi-therapist "responsible" role for him. he has this very... mental health-centered way of talking to jimmy - we'll fix it together, one day at a time, hey i believe in you, etc. which gives me the impression of, and this happens very often, a very trusting and overly-empathetic guy who's been roped into a relationship with someone whose safety and actions have been made his responsibility.

(i obviously don't mean this to woobify curly, or to diminish the game's commentary on rape culture, but rather to express that there's more to curly's behavior around jimmy than "shitty men cover for eachother".)

and i think one of the ultimate tragedies of curly's character is that, in the end, what jimmy projects on him -

-was true. this is how curly thought, before he was forced to come to terms, via experiencing jimmy's abuse of him, witnessing anya's suicide and the others' bodies, that jimmy was a monster who was never going to care about curly the way curly cared about him.

but, because jimmy views curly, now disabled, as a complete blank slate because he physically cannot speak for himself, jimmy continues to project upon him the dynamic that did exist between them - no matter the horrors he puts curly through, because if curly let him get away with it then, he'd let him get away with it now, right?

and when curly didn't put his foot down when it mattered, he now no longer can - and so jimmy's words, as long as he's as unable to speak for himself as he was back then, will be in his mouth forever.

:(

[zekescherries]

﹒ LEFT BEHIND! ﹔ ft ＃ zeke yeager ﹐ 🍒 ﹒　　 ׅ 　

CONSPECTUS﹕a living reminder of what he sacrificed, of what he left behind in pursuit of a "saving" opportunity for the eldian people.

PAIRING﹕zeke yeager × female!reader ﹒ post-rumbling

CHAPTER(S)﹕previous ﹒ next

CONTENT WARNING﹕pregnancy & childbirth (mentioned) + grieving + single-parenthood + slight ptsd + dead!zeke + dark themes + pet names (zeke calls you peach) (i know not everyone is for pet names) + intentional lowercase & more as the story progresses

the walk home is silent. veil is a smart girl, especially for her tender age. you won't be able to hide the truth from her forever. you always remind yourself of that but the pain is still so fresh.

on the other hand, you should let reiner or pieck look after veil when you're unable. just to avoid yelena at all costs. she's the reason why veil is asking about zeke after all.

"to your room, please, veil." you ask of her, closing the door behind you. setting her bag down next to the carpet. veil's expression is sorrowful and guilty but she doesn't say anything in protest.

"okay. . ."

shame casts over you while you walk up the stairs, the creeping of the stairs almost pushes you to the edge. every time you think you're over him, something pushes you back. he basically abandoned everything, just for that one goal.

you wonder if anything else mattered to him.

tears fill your eyes, you can't help but let them flow freely. "zeke, you. . .selfish asshole."

"i hate you, i hate your guts. . .i really do hope you're burning in whatever hell you're in."

you don't really mean that. how could you, after everything?

.

.

.

.

veil sits up in her bed, not even asleep. not like you expected her to magically fall asleep. "veil. . ." you lay a hand on her shoulder, sitting next to her. her bed dips at your added weight, you take a moment to look around her room, decorated with toys and unopened gifts from her last birthday. blankets and clothes made by hand for her by mrs. annelie.

she was blessed with people who loved her. who cared, who wanted to see her thrive. some aren't so lucky.

"here." you open your hand in her lap, revealing a small folded up old, thinning photo.

veil's eyes widen, the silver glint of her irises practically glow at the sight of the outdated family photo. a man, a woman, it seems and a little boy looking similar to herself. "that's zeke." you let her take it into her hands, pointing at the boy in particular.

"he's your papa." zeke's pale skin and glassy, platinum eyes are almost visible in the picture despite it not having much color. you remember it well, veil mirrors him to the t.

"and that's your grandpa. . ." a man with a prideful face, young and handsome.

veil nods at your every word, her own finger rubbing over dina's face. "is that grandma?" she asks, squinting to get a better look at the woman, her face fading due to the age of the picture.

it looks rough, many have held it but veil will be the one to keep it.

"yeah. . .i never got to meet her myself." you confess with a small laugh.

your arms instinctively wrap around veil, shuffling her into the comfort of your lap. rocking her gently, back and forth and feeling her body relax against yours as she stares at the photo.

"will i ever see papa?" she asks, her voice saddened; she already knows the answer.

"no,"

"but i'm sure if he were here. . .he'd love you. more than anything."

© zekescherries , 🍒

[vaguelyhauntedcornfield]

Okay but like I really need to rant about this a bit so like spoilers for ep 3 of tlou below but like

idk I’ve never played the game so I had no idea what to expect going into this, but when Frank showed up, I was like “I can’t tell if Bill is going to kill him or marry him.” WELL. Nick Offerman did such a GOOD job of looking on guard and uncomfortable. His shoulders are like up to his ears the entire meeting sequence and it made me so jumpy, and then we skip 3 years and he’s so visibly relaxed. And my heart started to melt. And I found myself so enamored with these two men who, against all odds, found love in a situation where that should have been impossible. Frank was the last alive from a group fleeing a collapsed quarantine zone, Bill a preper who had decided to be alone long before the pandemic even started. We expect Bill to die the whole time--comments about him getting old faster than Frank, getting shot by raiders. The jump to Frank being sick...they showed so much through his paintings. You weren’t expecting it, and they showed you through his art how his illness has been progressing, and how him being able to see that himself affected him. They showed how Bill broke down and made a deal with Joel to get medicine despite saying he never would. This show. THIS SHOW. I was sobbing up until Bill became weirdly calm during the dinner, because I realized he’d made the decision too. They died on their own terms in a world where that had become nearly impossible. They had a beautiful life together in a world where that had become a pipe dream. Two characters that we never even meet thru the main characters, not in the present day, but who matter so much.

[angelltheninth]

Could I request Aventurine with a shy girlfriend who hides her face whenever they have sex?

Yes, because he's a smug asshole and that's how I want him.

Pairing: Aventurine x Fem!reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, rough sex, teasing, creampie, blowjob, Reader getting pinned down, cum eating, praise, shy!Reader

A/N: A cocky bastard is one of my favorite types of characters. I can't help myself.

Aventurine will let you get away with this when he first notices it happening

It was cute and amusing to him, it was also a point of pride to be able to reduce you to such a shy mess given all the things you did together

Doesn't want to force you to show your face

However he does say he wants to see it, your face when you're in thrones of pleasure, unable to hold back, clenching your cunt around him, letting him know how much you want him to feel good too

The only time he can make sure he sees your face is when you're on your knees sucking his cock or he's on top of you, fucking your tear stained face after he made you come for what felt like the hundredth time that night

Not that he enjoys your tears, but when they0re from the overwhelming pleasure it's a different story

Beaming down at you as you effectively suck and lick off the remains of his cum, eating it all up like a good girl you are he strokes the top of your head in praise

Slowly but surely through his repeated praise you begin doing it less but the shyness never quite goes away

It's when you're at your most lust ridden self that you still feel the need to hide and for Aventurine to feel the need to direct your eyes downwards where he's slamming his hard cock into your sensitive cunt, letting you know there's no other woman who takes him as well as you do

Kisses are rare during sex because you tend to shy away from him even seeing you but there's plenty to be had after, he doesn't care if your mouth and tongue tastes of his salty cum

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　DRESS TO IMPRESS IN REAL LIFE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, Matt's secret girlfriend, participates in the 'Dress to Impress in real life' video.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I added and changed some dialogs that didn't happen on the video, so the fic ended being more complete.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The triplets were buzzing with energy, their house a hive of activity as they set up for their newest video; Dress to Impress, real-life edition. Each round had its own theme, and the first one was Summer Vacation. Y/N had been roped into joining as a surprise guest, and secretly, Matt couldn't have been more thrilled.

The boys had already pulled out all the stops with their outfits. Chris sported a chaotic ensemble: a bucket hat with panels of clashing colors, lime green slides, and denim cargo shorts.

Matt was rocking a relaxed, dad-on-vacation vibe, complete with an oversized straw hat, patterned swim trunks, and a shirt that screamed, 'I don’t care, I’m on island time'.

Nick had gone full beach prep with a striped tank top, sunglasses that were almost too tiny for his face, and a retro cooler box tucked under his arm like an accessory.

As the camera rolled, Y/N was still getting ready in Matt’s bathroom, leaving the boy's to discuss who went better between the three of them.

"Alright." Chris said, pointing a finger at Nick’s cooler. "I’m just saying, if you don’t actually have anything in there, that’s a waste of a prop."

"It’s called committing to the bit, Chris." Nick shot back, adjusting the towel draped over his shoulder. "The cooler is the vibe."

Matt, who was adjusting his sunglasses, glanced toward the bathroom door, his face lighting up as if he could sense Y/N’s presence through the walls.

"Y/N better bring it. I know she’s got something amazing up her sleeve."

Nick rolled his eyes, looking at Matt with a boring expression.

"Why do I feel like you’re already planning to give her every win, no matter what she’s wearing?"

"Because I am." Matt replied bluntly, grinning like the lovesick puppy he was.

The door finally creaked open, and all three boys turned as Y/N emerged. She had nailed the summer vacation aesthetic, wearing a flowy, tropical-patterned sundress, bikini top below it, oversized black Prada sunglasses perched on her nose, and sandals that matched her outfit perfectly. She’d even added a straw beach bag for good measure.

"Okay, Y/N, I see you!" Chris exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Y/N laughed, grinning widely before twirling to show off her look.

"Alright, that’s tough competition. You actually look like you're ready to spend the day at your beach house." Nick gave a low whistle, his blue eyes traveling from her face to her feet and back again. "But I'd say you're in fourth place. You're ready for the beach, not for any summer vacation."

"Fair." Y/N shrugged, take a quick peak at her outfit again before looking at Matt. "What do you think?"

Matt's eyes seemed to be shining like the whole cadence of stars, wandering through every detail of her choice of clothes.

"Are you kidding? That’s... that’s so good. You look like you stepped out of a summer vacation catalog or something." His voice sounded slightly high-pitched with excitement. "Nick's just jealous."

"What? No, I'm not!"

Chris rolled his eyes, already sensing where this was going.

"Oh, here we go."

"Like, if I saw you on the beach." Matt continued, ignoring his brothers entirely. "I’d probably just pass out. That’s how good you look."

"Okay, Matt." Nick said, holding up a hand. "We get it. Obsessive fucker."

The room filled with laughter, Y/N shaking her head but unable to hide the grin spreading across her face, her cheeks heating up.

"Right, first round? I'm second." Matt declared, gesturing toward himself. "Obviously, Y/N was first because, you know, she's Y/N." He gave her a little smile. "Then Nick was third, and Chris was fourth. That’s the average."

"Yeah, unfortunately." Nick muttered, throwing his hands up.

"Well." Chris turned dramatically to the camera and pointed. "They can vote."

Nick, not missing a beat, leaned closer to the camera, his voice dripping with mock confidence.

"Oh, I already know they’re gonna vote for me. Mine’s obviously the best. Unless..." He paused for dramatic effect, raising an eyebrow. "These girls wanna sleep with Matt and vote for him."

"What?!" Matt’s eyes widened in pure shock as he whipped his head toward the camera, looking utterly scandalized.

Y/N’s eyes flicked between Nick and Matt, her lips tightening slightly trying to suppress a laugh. It was impossible not to be amused by Nick’s antics.

She knew Nick wasn’t wrong, Matt’s popularity with their audience also had to do with his charm and, let’s face it, how good he looked on camera. There probably were plenty of girls who’d vote for Matt purely because of his looks, even if one of the other boys dressed better.

Nick continued without missing a beat.

"It’s the straight man advantage! You guys..." He gestured wildly at the camera. "Are gonna discriminate against me because I’m gay, and I don't like 'yall back."

At that, Y/N couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking her head.

Matt, still recovering from Nick’s bold accusation, raised a hand defensively.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second." He looked straight into the camera with that intense, sincere gaze that Y/N loved. "Just for the record, I’m completely off-limits. Completely."

The way he said it, firm and definitive, sent a wave of confidence through Y/N. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she crossed her arms, clearing her throat to contain her reactions, trying to play it cool.

Nick, however, wasn’t done.

"Oh, yeah? You really think they care about that?" He teased, smirking as Matt shook his head in disbelief.

Chris rolled his eyes, still laughing.

"Nick, stop trying to guilt-trip them into voting for you."

"I'm not doing anything." Nick replied with a wink, sending the group into another fit of laughter.

"Now, bring the runway on, boys!"

The camera cut to Chris, who had appointed himself the first to strut down their makeshift runway that started from the stairs.

He walked in quick steps before stopping in the center of their camera lens, dramatically fanning himself with an imaginary hand fan.

"Where did you even get the idea of the imaginary fan?" Y/N teased, laughing with the others.

"Shh, it’s part of the vibe." Chris replied, flipping his bucket hat backward with flair. He strolled toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, striking a series of ridiculous poses. "Yeah, you’re welcome." He said as he walked off-camera, leaving the other three in stitches.

Nick went next, cooler in hand.

"Get ready to witness greatness." He said, lifting the retro cooler above his head like it was the Holy Grail, showing it off.

"You go, queen!" Y/N cheered, nodding her head while watching him.

Nick smiled brightly, placing it down carefully and reached for the towel draped over his shoulder, unfolding it with slow, deliberate movements. Too slow.

"This is taking forever." Matt groaned, crossing his arms.

"Nick, it’s been 30 seconds. Just lay the towel down!" Chris yelled.

Nick ignored them, carefully smoothing out the towel on the floor, his face the picture of focus. Once he was satisfied, he walked down the "runway", throwing some expressions to the camera before almost gluing his face to the lens, taking his glasses off.

"Iconic." Y/N said between laughs.

"Thank you, thank you." Nick replied, bowing before dramatically kicking the towel aside as if to signal the end of his performance, his right hand fanning himself as the last act.

Matt was up next.

"Alright, let me show you how it’s done." He said confidently. Grabbing his sunscreen, he opened the cap and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers, dabbing it on his cheeks like football player stripes.

"Well, you gotta stay protected, I guess." Y/N muttered, smiling with how Chris was rooting like crazy.

Laughter escaped her lips as Matt sauntered toward the camera, showing off the sunscreen like it was a designer handbag. He struck a confident pose, holding the product up, before walking back off the camera with an over-the-top smile.

Finally, it was Y/N’s turn.

"Your move, Y/N." Nick said, gesturing grandly toward the imaginary runway.

"Alright, alright, give me a second." She said, thinking fast.

She reached into her straw bag, pulling out the pair of oversized sunglasses that she had thrown there at some point, dramatically placing it on her face. Then, grabbing a small beach towel she had tucked inside the bag, she draped it over one arm like a sash.

"What’s happening here?" Matt asked, intrigued.

Y/N strolled onto the "runway" with slow, exaggerated movements like a madame arriving at a five-star resort. Halfway down, she pretended to feel the heat, pulling an actual bottle of water from her bag and taking a sip before fanning herself with her hand.

"It has to have the fan move!" Nick applauded, grinning to the scene before being interrupted by Chris’s comment.

"Of course, I created it."

At the end of the runway, Y/N stopped, tossed her sunglasses off dramatically at the ground, and struck a ridiculous pose with one hand on her hip and the other shielding her eyes as if she was shielding her face from the sun.

"That was solid!" Chris exclaimed, clapping.

Matt, meanwhile, was in awe, hands on his head.

"Are you kidding? That was really good. A thousand points. Game over. Y/N wins. Everyone go home."

Nick scoffed.

"Matt, stop simping for two seconds so we can keep this contest going."

"I’m not simping." Matt argued, clearly lying. "I'm just stating facts."

"Shut up, Matt."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For the Mix-Matched Madness theme, the camera panned to the boys standing in a line, proudly displaying their chaotic ensembles.

Chris was clad in a bright red varsity jacket over a striped shirt, camo pink shorts, and mismatched knee-high socks with chunky boots.

Matt decided for plaid shorts layered over one plaid pant leg, a pastel blue and yellow sweater vest, and a floppy dog-ear cap.

Nick went to a plaid jacket layered over a striped shirt with a perfectly coordinated tie, and matching sweatpants and sneakers.

"Guys, I’m clearly superior." Nick started, raising his eyebrows as he adjusted his glasses. "My outfit is actually intentional, look at this synergy! It screams fashion-forward."

Matt groaned, rolling his eyes and looking at Chris with a 'is he serious?' expression.

"Nick, you’re wearing matchy-matchy plaid in a mix-matched challenge. You’ve missed the assignment!"

"It’s ironic." Nick shot back, crossing his arms. "I’m doing intentional matching. If I were in a real runway right now, people would actually like my outfit."

Chris scratched his head, looking between them.

"Isn’t that kind of cheating, though?"

Before the debate could escalate further, Y/N stepped into the frame, causing all three boys to give her their attention.

Her outfit was next level: a bright purple sequined crop top paired with one lime green legging on her right leg and a fluffy, neon orange sock on the other. She wore a skirt made of layered, clashing floral patterns that didn’t quite match the fuzzy checkered cardigan she threw on top. To finish it off, her accessories included a leopard-print beanie - the one she stole from Matt's closet -, oversized sunglasses, and two entirely different shoes, a silver stiletto on one foot and a Croc on the other.

The boys gawked.

"Okay, now that’s mix-matched madness." Chris said, pointing at her.

"Girl, you look like you fell into a thrift store... and it worked." Nick added, looking both impressed and slightly annoyed.

"How can you still look so good while wearing... that?" Matt asked, pointing at her outfit with his hand while shaking his head in disbelief.

Y/N twirled dramatically, holding out her skirt as she grinned at the camera.

"Thank you, boys. I like to call this 'chaos with confidence'." She invented the random name, throwing a quick kiss to the lens.

Chris threw his hands up.

"Alright, I’m officially placing second now."

Nick groaned, shaking his head dramatically.

"No way. She’s great, but I’m still winning. Look at this tie!"

Matt laughed.

"Nick, your tie doesn’t save you from breaking the theme. You’re disqualified."

The scene cut to the "runway", where each of them showcased their chaotic outfits with an equally chaotic performance.

First up was Nick. He confidently strutted forward, reaching for the end of his tie. With exaggerated flair, he lifted it as if someone were pulling him forward, his face a picture of mock shock and drama, stumbling forward.

"Ey, keep going!" Chris hollered, nodding enthusiastically.

The moment he reached the end of the runway, he grinned mischievously, running his hand dramatically through his hair and tossing a sultry look at the camera before taking off his pink glasses.

"Work it, Nick!" Y/N chimed in, her laughter mixing with the chaos.

Nick turned on his heel with a laugh, sauntering back to the start and throwing a praying gesture, ignoring how Matt laughed, mockingly imitating his act.

Next, Matt stepped up, adjusting his floppy dog-ear cap before suddenly spinning it backward.

"Showtime." He muttered under his breath, earning immediate chuckles from the others. He walked to the camera with a cocky stride, crossing his arms and bending slightly to the side.

For the final move, he pivoted and moonwalked his way back to the start, nearly slipping on his mismatched shoes but recovering with a grin.

"Did you see that? Effortless." Matt declared, earning boos and laughs from the rest.

"You almost ate it, Matt." Y/N teased, shaking her head.

Chris stepped up next. And, of course, he brought drama.

"Hold my jacket." He said, then immediately shook his head. "Actually, no. The floor will."

With exaggerated aggression, he ripped off one of his red lobster gloves, throwing it to the ground with flair. The glove was followed by his belt, which he unbuckled and tossed with equal energy.

"Oh my God." Y/N looked at the camera with wide eyes.

"What is happening?" Nick cackled, practically doubling over, slapping Y/N's arm.

Chris wasn’t done. He walked up to the camera with an intense expression, holding his hands out and touching the screen, acting as if zooming in.

"Enhance." He said, squinting into the lens. Then, as if the camera wasn’t worthy, he spun dramatically on his heel, walked back, and threw off his varsity jacket mid-stride before striking one final pose.

"Now that’s how you do it." Y/N joked, looking at the camera. "Like and subscribe if you want Chris to make a strip tea-"

"Y/N!"

For Y/N's turn, she adjusted her oversized leopard beanie with a dramatic flair and tilted her sunglasses low on her nose, revealing a dead-serious expression underneath. She strutted forward slowly, dragging her stiletto along the ground for added effect. When she reached the camera, she whipped her head to the side, making her orange fluffy sock the star of the moment.

But it didn’t end there. Y/N suddenly crouched down into a deep squat, raising one hand in the air and striking a pose like she was ready to pounce. The boys immediately broke into cheers and laughter.

"Yes, queen!" Nick shouted, jumping in the place and clapping, laughing loudly.

"She nailed it." Matt said with a proud grin, nodding his head.

Y/N slowly stood, turning to the side as if the camera had disappeared, and walked off like nothing had happened.

"Thank you." She said nonchalantly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the others applauded.

"Alright, I officially retire." Nick said, throwing his arms to the air in a surrender gesture.

"Same." Chris picked up his lobster glove from the floor, grinning.

Matt sighed, smiling at Y/N's figure.

"She’s unbeatable. Let’s not do these challenges anymore if she’s in them."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The scene cut to the next category: Rock Concert. The boys had gathered in front of the camera, each flaunting their edgy outfits.

Chris leaned casually against the wall, dressed in all black with his bandana tied around his head. His sunglasses were perfectly placed, and a Bluetooth speaker hung over his shoulder like a statement piece.

"Clearly, I’m the embodiment of rock concert aesthetic." He said confidently, adjusting his speaker strap.

Nick crossed his arms, giving Chris a side-eye. He was sporting his long-sleeved shirt adorned with skulls and intricate spiderweb patterns paired with black cargo pants and chunky boots.

"Please." Nick retorted. "I’ve got literal death on my shirt. That’s as metal as it gets."

Matt, standing in the middle, smirked. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt, complete with a silver skull belt buckle and leather pants that practically screamed rockstar.

"Yeah, but have you seen my belt?" He argued, lifting his white shirt slightly to show it off. "This is peak rock concert material. I even coordinated it with my jacket."

"Okay, but who do you think the crowd would look at first?" Chris challenged. "The guy with the bandana, all black, and sunglasses? Obviously me. The speaker only makes it better."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"You look like you’re trying to be a cool dad sneaking into a concert." He teased.

"Alright, alright." Y/N interrupted from off-screen, stepping into the camera frame and effectively stealing the show.

Y/N’s outfit was on another level. She wore a black 'Bon Jovi' cropped top with silver detailing that matched the chains on her leather mini skirt. Fishnet tights peeked out from under the skirt, leading down to a pair of knee-high combat boots that added an extra edge to the look. To top it off, she wore a cropped leather jacket with studs on the shoulders and accessorized with chunky silver jewelry and a black choker.

The boys fell silent for a second, staring.

Y/N smiled brightly at them before turning to the camera, raising her right arm and making the 'rock and roll' gesture by raising her pinky and index fingers and lowering the others.

"'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars and live in hilltop houses driving 15 cars..."

"Girl, what the fuck?" Nick widened his eyes, looking from Y/N to the camera with a look that screamed 'are you guys seeing this?'

Matt laughed loudly, recognizing the song from one of the TikTok trends that Y/N had been obsessing over the past few weeks, being quick in imitating her position, and starting singing with her.

"... the girls come easy and the drugs come cheap, we'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat-"

"Okay, that's enough of that." Chris interrupted the pair, gesturing to them while shaking his head in disbelief. "So, Y/N wins."

Nick groaned dramatically.

"Let's take her out right now. I don't wanna play with her anymore."

Matt couldn’t stop smiling.

"Can we just talk about how she’s nailing this? Like, can we get her to join the band we don’t have?"

Y/N laughed, giving a mock bow.

"Thank you, thank you. Now, let's just be clear, I already won." Y/N said with a sly grin, stepping forward. "You'll all lose time if you keep discussing who's the best between you three."

"How can you be so sure?" Chris crossed his arms, carrying a superior instance.

"Because I actually listen to rock." She said, shrugging like it was obvious. "AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Kansas, Asia... should I keep going?"

Nick groaned.

"Okay, that’s true, but it doesn’t count!"

"Doesn’t count?" Y/N repeated, feigning offense. "I think you’ll find that the fact I actually know rock makes me the winner by default." She turned to Chris. "Tell me. Have 'yall even listened to ‘Highway to Hell’ all the way through?"

Chris hesitated, playing with his earphones.

"Uh... I mean." He looked at Nick. "Probably?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

"Thought so." She crossed her arms. "So, I don’t need a skull belt, all-black everything, or death on my chest. I’ve got the actual music taste. Rock is in my veins, boys."

Nick groaned dramatically, throwing his head back.

"She wins. I hate it, but she wins."

"Alright, fine." Chris muttered. "But we still look better."

"Not a chance." Y/N teased, spinning in place again and winking at the camera. "This outfit screams rock goddess."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The boys were now proudly sporting their "Zoom Meeting" outfits. Chris held up his MacBook, Matt adjusted his glasses with a goofy smile, and Nick tugged at his black tie, looking down at his bright heart-shaped boxer shorts with fake professionalism.

"Alright." Chris started, addressing the imaginary Zoom meeting in front of him. "Gentlemen, let’s get to business. As you can see, we’re all clearly dressed to impress."

"Except for Nick." Matt teased, nodding toward his brother's boxer shorts. "The hearts? A little too much, don’t you think?"

Nick scoffed, feigning offense.

"Excuse me, at least I have this tie that says I’m both professional and emotionally available. A winning combo."

Matt rolled his eyes and gestured to his own look.

"Meanwhile, I’ve got balance. Business on top, relaxation on the bottom."

"That’s literally the whole theme." Chris pointed out with a smirk. "You’re not special, Matt."

Y/N watched from her spot leaning against Matt's bathroom door, her legs crossed as she sipped from her mug of coffee that she made while waiting for them to get ready. She was dressed comfortably yet stylishly, rocking an oversized beige knit sweater that draped perfectly off one shoulder, paired with black leggings and fluffy white socks. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, with a few strands framing her face. Despite the boys' chaotic energy, she was nailing the whole "effortlessly cool" vibe.

"Y/N, you’re way too cozy for a Zoom meeting." Chris said, pointing at her as he adjusted his loose white shirt.

"Well." Y/N said with a playful grin. "Unlike you guys, I know how to mix comfy with class. You all just look ridiculous."

Nick gasped, dramatically clutching the box in his hands.

"Ridiculous? Ridiculous?! Look at this tie! I’m the epitome of professionalism!"

Chris leaned toward Y/N, pointing at Matt.

"What about him? He’s literally in boxer shorts."

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipping from her mug to hide her smile.

"You're all wearing it, dumbass." Her eyes lingered on Matt's red boxer shorts for a moment too long. "It’s really interesting that someone would think boxer shorts are appropriate for a Zoom meeting, actually."

Matt smirked, striking a random pose.

"Are you jealous?"

"No?" She said quickly, shaking her head. "I mean, it’s not like anyone else on the Zoom would see them, right?"

The other two brothers caught on instantly, grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Y/N." Nick teased. "Are you saying you wouldn’t let your Zoom co-workers see your boxers?"

"Nick!" She exclaimed, throwing an exasperated look at him. "That’s not the point!"

Chris chimed in, laughing.

"Yeah, Matt. She’s definitely jealous. She wishes she could wear boxers to a meeting."

"I do not!" Y/N huffed, crossing her arms, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I just... don’t understand why he’d even bother wearing the shirt if he’s just going to go full casual anyway."

"It’s called commitment to the aesthetic." Matt said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, discretely squeezing the exposed skin. "Something you clearly wouldn’t understand."

"Oh, I understand commitment." Y/N shot back with a smirk, meeting his eyes momentarily. "But let’s be honest, none of you are winning any awards for those outfits."

"Excuse me?" Nick said, pretending to be outraged. "I’m clearly the winner here."

"Winner?" Chris scoffed. "You’re wearing socks pulled up to your knees, bro. That’s not even close to a win."

Y/N chuckled as she watched them descend into a full argument over who had the best Zoom look, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering back to Matt’s outfit. Something about the casual confidence he exuded - boxers and glasses - had her feeling just a little possessive and turned on.

"Alright." She announced, clapping her hands to get their attention. "If you’re all done arguing, let’s see who can really sell their look with a runway walk."

The boys' faces lit up, and they quickly got into character.

Nick was up first, confidently sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, arms spread wide like a figure skater. As he came to a stop, he reached for his boxer shorts and dramatically lowered them until they hit the ground, shouting a little "Oh!".

Matt immediately yelped.

"Nick!" He yelled before lunging forward to cover Y/N's eyes with both hands.

"Matt! What are you doing?!" Y/N laughed, trying to swat his hands away while Chris doubled over in hysterics.

"Protecting your innocence!" Matt declared, keeping his hands firmly over her face.

Nick, unfazed, quickly pulled his boxers back up and began walking toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, tugging at his tie and making ridiculous faces as though he were a real model.

"You’re unbelievable!" Chris murmured through his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Well, we've got 2 strippers now-"

"Y/N!"

Nick turned dramatically to face her and winked.

"You’re welcome for the show."

Next, it was Matt’s turn. He walked to the middle of the floor, cracking his knuckles with a sly grin before suddenly dropping to his hands and knees.

"Uh, Matt?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What...?" Nick added, genuinely confused.

Then, without warning, Matt lifted his left leg to the side like a dog at a fire hydrant.

The realization hit everyone at once, recognizing the movement from one of the rounds of DTI that Matt and Chris played, and the room erupted into cheers and laughter.

"That was perfect!" Chris shouted, clapping his hands.

Matt stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his shirt with a smirk, and walked toward the camera with crossed arms, striking a serious pose like a model in a high-fashion commercial.

"Okay, that was actually cool." Y/N admitted, giggling as he walked back to join them.

When it was Chris’s turn, he shook his head with a grin.

"I’m sitting this one out." He said.

"What? Why?" Nick asked, incredulous.

Chris shrugged.

"I’m already the main event. I’ll let Y/N steal the spotlight this time."

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, so now I have to go?"

"You got this!" Matt encouraged, nudging her toward the runway.

"Fine." She said, standing up and straightening her oversized sweater dramatically.

Y/N walked off the camera and took the book she'd been reading the past few days from the coffee table, walking back to the frame before delicately putting it on her head like a balancing act. She strutted confidently toward the camera, balancing it all the way, then stopped to pull out her mug, striking a victorious pose before taking a slow, exaggerated sip. The boys erupted in applause.

"You can call me Barbie now." She started, turning to the boys while opening a wide smile before pretending that her hand was a microphone. "On top of the world where I can see everything before me reaching up to touch the sky-"

"Okay, singer girl, pipe down a bit." Nick raised his right hand, exchanging perplexed looks with Chris, who was laughing.

"Okay, she wins." The youngest admitted, shrugging in defeat.

"Unreal." Matt said, looking at her with obvious pride. "You’re way too good at this, Y/N."

"Okay, okay, she wins. No one can top that." Nick nodded at Y/N. "But I think Chris gets second place in this one."

"No, I give you number one." Chris insisted, pointing to Nick while Matt just observed.

"I can't accept that. I'm just happy Matt's wearing his blue light glasses again." Nick's voice turned dramatically high-pitched, clearly imitating the fandom.

Before anyone could react to him, Matt ripped his glasses off of his face, bending it backward until it snapped, small pieces flying everywhere.

"Matt, why would you do that?" Y/N yelled, looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth - just like the other two - before pouting, looking miserably at the shattered pieces. "I liked that one."

"I don't like those stupid jokes." Matt simply replied, looking unfazed at his brothers and Y/N.

Nick and Chris kept looking from Matt to the camera and back, their expressions full of shock.

"You're going to buy another one just like that one, I don't even care." Y/N ordered, crossing her arms and looking directly at Matt, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'dare disobey me.

"Fine." He sighed. "Sorry."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments:

"okay but can we talk about matt literally saying ‘I’m off limits’? someone tell me what’s going on here 🤡"

"nick casually calling out matt girls for voting on matt only bc they want to sleep with him had me SCREAMING 😭"

"why was Y/N blushing when matt said he was off limits? I SEE YOU, GIRL!!!!"

"the dynamic between Y/N and matt is giving major dating vibes"

"wait, why does matt always seem to hype Y/N up just a little more than chris and nick? like, we get it, dude. she’s awesome. but tone it down, or we’ll all start connecting dots 🤨"

"as a fellow rock fan, I have to say Y/N listening to AC/DC and bon jovi automatically makes her my fave"

"not Y/N convincing matt with zero effort to do the rockstar trend with her 🤧"

"I’m not saying I ship Y/N and matt... but I also kind of ship Y/N and matt. the way he looked at her with that dress??? man, I know that look"

"matt breaking his glasses and then Y/N ordering him to buy another one and him ACCEPTING IT???? and saying sorry???? omg that's just girl boss right there 🙏🏻"

[flowersforbucky]

sweetener

bucky barnes x reader

summary: when the vacation that you've been planning for months gets canceled due to a last minute mission, you can't help but feel bummed - the bright side is that you're being sent on a mission with bucky.

word count: 5.3k - my masterlist

warnings/tags: canon level violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of blood, almost drowning, hospital setting, bad guys getting killed (not descriptive), non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, language, reader pov, no use of y/n, fem reader, bucky being super soft, not explicit but mdni please

when life deals us cards

make everything taste like it is salt

then you come through like the sweetener you are

to bring the bitter taste to a halt

Hand warmers. Flashlight and extra batteries. Can opener. Matches. First aid kit –

You glance down the handwritten list for the dozenth time that morning, checking and rechecking that you aren't forgetting anything obvious.

Your eyes flicker between the ridiculous amount of supplies scattered across your bed and the three large duffle bags on your floor that you're determined to pack it all into. You know that you are most likely being excessive, but you'd much rather be too thorough than not thorough enough when you're about to be miles deep in the Appalachian wilderness.

Sure, you'd be staying at a relatively civilized campground with restrooms and showers, but this is the first time that you've been camping in years, and your first time ever going camping alone.

A two day road trip there, then six days in the Great Smoky Mountains, and then another two day road trip back to upstate New York.

A much needed ten days of time spent by yourself, seeing as how you haven't gone on anything resembling a vacation in over two years. The last couple years have been nonstop work with very little time for relaxation.

To say that you're excited would be an understatement. Although you find immense fulfillment in the work that you do with the Avengers and can't see yourself doing anything else, you're ready to sit by a warm fire and sleep under the stars without a care in the world.

Just as you've finished packing the second bag and are about to begin on the third, the Bluetooth speaker that your cell phone is paired to begins blasting your ringtone, cutting off the music that you'd been listening to while you pack.

When you grab the phone off of your nightstand and see the name Nick Fury displayed across the screen, a ball of unease immediately forms in the pit of your stomach.

Nick Fury isn't the type to call and chit chat about how your day is going or what shows you've been binge watching. He's the type to call when he wants something done, and wants it done now.

“Hey, Fury,” you greet in a neutral tone as you perch on the edge of your bed. With the phone still connected to your speaker, you place it back down on the nightstand so that you are free to wring your hands together.

“Agent,” Fury's voice booms throughout your room. “I hope I've caught you before you've left the state of New York.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Uh - yep. I'm still here. Packing up for my trip right now,” you answer, trying your hardest to conceal the irritation in your voice. There's a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you should just lie and say you are already on the road, but you're not stupid enough to lie to Nick Fury.

There's a second, louder voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to suggest you pack a tactical suit and weapon of choice instead of hiking boots and a sleeping bag. We just got word that a vibranium weapons dealer we've been tracking will be receiving a large shipment at a port in Destin tomorrow night. Need you and Barnes on a flight to Florida this afternoon.”

“Florida?��� you repeat, unable to hide the shock and disappointment in your tone. “I can't go to Florida right now. I've been planning this trip for months. I put in the notice for my leave–”

“I realize that this is unfortunate timing but I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable, Agent,” he interrupts you in a tone of finality. “If we don't intercept this shipment then these weapons fall into very dangerous hands. With Romanoff and Rogers still in San Antonio until next week, I have no choice but to ask you and Barnes to handle it.”

You exhale an audible, frustrated breath and massage the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. You don't know why you're surprised. It's not like illegal arms dealers take your vacation time into consideration when they plot their dealings.

“Is that understood, Agent?” he asks when you don't respond.

“Yes,” you say as you dig your nails into the flesh of your palm to hold back any further argument. “Yes, I understand.”

“Great. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The line cuts off before you can get another word out.

You groan out loud. Three hours. That doesn't even leave you enough time to feel sorry for yourself.

You look around at the chaotic state of your room before your gaze lands on the already packed duffle bags filled with camping supplies.

You're too annoyed and short on time to care right now, so you empty the contents of both bags back onto your bed and tell yourself that you'll deal with the mess when you get back home. For now, you need to focus on packing the appropriate items for taking down a vibranium arms dealer in hotass Florida.

Beneath all of the disappointment and frustration, there's a glimmer of relief that at the very least it's Bucky who you're being sent on this unexpected mission with. You may not be fond of hot weather, but you are quite fond of him.

••••••

Just as Fury said, the jet departs from the compound at exactly three o'clock. You sit in the aircraft's cabin, reading through a thick file containing all of the information that SHIELD has compiled on Dmitri Petrov's crime empire, ranging from drug smuggling to illegal arms deals.

You are only a few pages into the report and it's abundantly clear why this mission was non-negotiable. Petrov has been getting away unscatched for years - tomorrow night will be the first clear opportunity for a take down since getting on SHIELD's radar.

“Coffee?” A voice snaps you back to reality, making you realize that you're reading the same sentence for the dozenth time. “Three creams, two sugars.”

You look up to find a vibranium hand holding out a disposable cup to you. If the fact that he's committed the way you take your coffee to memory isn't enough to increase your heart rate, his smirk and the crinkles around his blue eyes do the trick.

“Thank you,” you tell him, snapping the folder shut on the table in front of you. “My eyes are on the verge of bleeding.” You take a sip of the coffee - indeed, three creams and two sugars.

He takes the seat directly across from you, spinning the folder around for him to flip through himself.

“We land in less than half an hour and you've been reading this the entire flight,” he says teasingly as he thumbs through the pages. “I think it's safe to say you're prepared.”

He places the file back down, returning his attention to you.

“Just trying to get myself in the right headspace. I didn't know anything about this operation until a few hours ago, you know.”

Not one to complain, you had yet to bring up the fact that your trip had been postponed in order for you to be here. You had talked about the trip on several occasions with Bucky, but you didn't expect him to remember the exact dates that you were supposed to be gone.

Sure - if he was going to be away for over a week, you'd be hyper aware of it until he returned - but you weren't naive enough to think that he would know the exact dates of your comings and goings.

“I know,” he sighs, a sympathetic look on his face. “I was on my way to tell you to have a good trip and to be safe when I got the call from Fury this morning.”

Oh. Your cheeks heat at the casual admission from him.

“I'm sorry about your trip. I know you were really looking forward to it,” he adds sincerely. “I'm going to find extra enjoyment in putting Dmitri Petrov behind bars for causing it to get canceled.”

“You and me both,” you chuckle. “Really though, it's okay. I was bummed, but it's not the end of the world. It can easily be rescheduled once this guy is locked up and we're back home.”

You don't add the fact that you find yourself caring less and less about the canceled trip the longer that you sit here with him.

“There is at least one silver lining to this, you know,” he chimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the table between you. You instinctively lean in closer too, causing the side of your leg to brush against his beneath the table. You wait to see if he'll pull away, and when he doesn't, you leave the side of your thigh resting against his.

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“Petrov’s shipment isn't set to arrive until tomorrow night, and they've sent us down here the day prior. It's not like we have to stay holed up in our hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, right?”

••••••

Bucky's right - there's no sense in locking yourselves inside the hotel room until the time of the weapons deal tomorrow evening, but when you see the hotel room that you'll be spending the next couple nights in, you think you would also be okay with staying inside if you had to.

It's not a five star resort by any means, but in comparison to the dingy roadside motels that you're normally stuck in for missions? This place might as well be a Four Seasons.

It's relatively small, but there's more than enough space for the two of you. There's one full size bed, plus a couch that converts to a futon mattress - the latter of which Bucky insists on taking, giving you the bed. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room, with a jacuzzi tub that's bigger than three standard bathtubs put together.

And the best part of it? When you open the curtains to the sliding glass door on the backside of the room, there's a clear view of turquoise water and white sand.

“I guess Fury felt a little bad about springing this on me at the last minute, after all,” you sigh as you pull the door open, letting the light breeze pull the smell of saltwater into the room. “Can't say that I’ve been given a beachfront room for a mission before.”

Bucky walks up to stand beside you, leaning against the doorframe and staring out to the ocean.

“It's definitely a step up from the rat and roach infested Motel 6 that Sam and I had to spend three nights in when we were sent to Atlanta for recon last month.”

You shake your head, both cringing and laughing at the memory of him ranting about the motel room as soon as he saw you after returning home.

“It was the size of a fucking capybara. Why are you laughing? I opened the bathroom door and it charged at me–”

A sudden deep rumbling noise snaps you out of the memory and you glance down at your stomach in surprise. You suppose it makes sense that your body is screaming at you to eat - you had such little time to pack for Destin before your flight left that you hadn't even bothered with lunch today.

“How does pizza sound?” Bucky asks with a knowing smirk. “I saw a pizza place just down the street on the way here.”

“Anything sounds good right now,” you sigh, both starving and exhausted from your day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and traveling.

“I'll go grab one for us,” he tells you, pulling the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. “Just stay here and get settled in.”

You don't object, itching to change into comfier, more weather appropriate clothes. When you left the state of New York just a few hours ago, it was chilly outside. Now that you are in eighty plus degree Destin, the sweater and boots that you're wearing have got to go.

You unpack your bag, thankful that you had brought a pair of casual drawstring shorts. You throw them on, along with a tank top. You decide to go ahead and convert the futon from a sofa into a bed, and then search through the hotel room's small linen closet for a set of sheets and a quilt. If Bucky insists on you taking the comfier sleeping option and going to get food for the two of you, you figure the least you can do is make his bed for him.

When he returns, he not only has a large cardboard box containing the pizza, but a plastic bag hanging from his vibranium arm as well.

“Grab a towel and follow me,” he tells you before he's even closed the door behind him.

“Follow you?” You laugh, taken aback by the instructions. “Where are we going?”

You hop up from where you'd been mindlessly scrolling on your phone on the bed, doing as he asked and grabbing one of the complementary beach towels from the bathroom closet.

“Not staying holed up in our hotel room. Remember?”

And with that he pulls the sliding glass door open with his empty hand and exits the room, heading towards the beach that sits directly in the backyard. You don't even take the time to throw on a pair of tennis shoes before practically running after him through the sand.

He comes to a stop when he's a few yards away from where the waves wash up against shore and turns back to look at you. You take it as your cue to spread the towel across the sand at your feet.

He sits down and you follow, the cardboard box nestled between you. He opens it, revealing a pizza that is split down the middle - half your favorite, half his favorite.

“I know it's not a campfire in the Great Smoky Mountains,” he smirks. He digs into the plastic bag and pulls out a drink for each of you, along with some napkins. “But it's the best I could do in our current situation.”

The sentiment leaves you momentarily speechless. You know it isn't a grand declaration of love, and it might not mean as much to some people as it does to you - but you can't remember the last time someone went out of their way just to improve your day in such a simple yet thoughtful way.

Between the pizza, the vibrant pink and purple sky as the sun sinks beyond the ocean's horizon, the sound of the waves and him beside you, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

“No,” you murmur. “It's not. But it's perfect.”

••••••

The next day, you manage to forget that you're actually on a super important mission taking down a dangerous illegal arms dealer.

The first half of the day feels like an actual vacation - the closest thing you've had to a vacation in a long time, anyway. You sleep in until nearly ten o'clock in the morning - which may not be considered sleeping in for some people, but in this line of work, you've overslept if you're still in bed at eight am.

After waking up thoroughly rested and refreshed, the two of you get brunch and then spend the early hours of the afternoon leisurely strolling at the boardwalk just a short drive from your hotel.

You and Bucky are sitting on a bench eating ice cream when you check your phone for the first time in hours and realize how quickly the day has gone. It's already four o'clock - you're due to be on lookout at the pier where Petrov's exchange will occur soon.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks when you huff under your breath as you stick your phone back into your pocket. “Nervous about tonight?”

You're not nervous, truthfully. You're fully confident that you and Bucky will be able to handle the job. You've been on countless missions less straight forward than this before, and so has he.

“No,” you shake your head as you take another bite of your ice cream cone. “It's… silly,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” he assures you gently.

You pause, staring at a couple holding hands in the distance as you contemplate your words.

Bucky seems to follow your gaze.

“Today has just been really nice,” you shrug with a small smile. “I almost don't want to go back home.”

From your peripheral vision, you see his face shift to look at you. You continue to eat your ice cream, pretending that his stare doesn't warm you more than the Florida sun.

“We're on the same page then, doll.”

••••••

A few hours later, a feeder ship pulls up to the pier just after dusk.

“We've got eyes on three men,” you say lowly into your communication device. “They're guarding the pier. No sign of Petrov yet.”

“He'll show,” Fury's voice echoes in your ear. “Keep watch until then. Backup is on standby to take him in.” The comm clicks off before you can respond.

“I know there's a lot riding on this going smoothly,” you grumble as you bring your binoculars back up to your eyes. “But sometimes I think he just really needs to get laid.”

You and Bucky are across the road from the pier, concealed by large shrubs and the darkness of the night sky. You've been sitting here as still and silently as possible for well over an hour, before Petrov's men had even arrived to stand guard at the dock.

You really fucking have to pee.

Headlights begin to approach from down the street, and as the vehicle gets closer you're able to see that it's a large, black van.

Totally not suspicious at all.

It comes to a stop close to the boat dock, and a second later Petrov hops out of the driver's seat. You recognize him right away by his shrimpy build and receding hairline.

“I should just take them all out from here and be done with this,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I agree,” you sigh. “But Fury's adamant that Petrov be brought in alive if possible. He’s got an empire behind him that we need to find out as much as possible about. His men, however..” you trail off.

Bucky looks through the scope of his gun, zeroing in on one of the guards.

“Blow a tire on the van first,” you murmur. “So Petrov can't flee.”

“I'll take out these three guards, and then I'll get Petrov and call for back-up. You worry about getting to that ship and taking out anyone inside. Sound like a plan?”

“Easy peasy,” you agree.

Less than thirty seconds later, all three guards have dropped dead and Petrov is frantically running to his van, unaware that Bucky had shot the back tire after killing his guards. You and Bucky emerge from the shrubs, sprinting across the road. He dashes towards Petrov, who freezes and begins shouting curses in Russian when he sees what is running towards him.

Bucky lands a punch to Petrov's jaw as you're running past them, only slowing down enough to not trip over the guard’s dead bodies that are littered across the dock.

You're only a few yards away from the ship when you hear Bucky screech your name. You immediately come to a halt, turning back to see why he could be calling for you.

You see a tall, burly man - someone that you and Bucky hadn't noticed before - sprinting down the dock after you. He raises his arm above his head, his hand holding a rocklike object that he sends barreling in your direction.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to black.

••••••

The shrill, repetitive beeping of a monitor pulls you out of limbo and back to earth.

You're met with painfully bright, fluorescent lighting that has you squinting your eyes shut before you can make sense of your surroundings.

“Bucky,” you attempt to call out but it sounds like the croak of a lifelong smoker. Your eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting, allowing you to see that you're alone in a hospital room. You raise your fingertips to where it feels as if your brain is pulsing through your skull. There's a thick, defined knot on the top of your head that's sensitive to the touch.

Panic starts to take over you. Bits and pieces of the mission start to flash through your mind. Bucky shooting the guards, you running towards the feeder ship when you heard Bucky yell your name and then turning to see –

“Bucky!” You call out louder, your voice still hoarse. You sit up, not hesitating to carelessly yank an IV out of your arm. You're vaguely aware of the fact that you're in only a hospital gown and that blood is now trickling down your left arm, but you don't care.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up far too quickly. Your vision fades to a fuzzy gray and you're overcome with an intense wave of vertigo as the room spins around you. You grab onto the metal side railing of the hospital bed to keep yourself upright, desperately trying to focus your eyes enough to find the nurse's call button.

“Hi! I'll be to your room in just a moment–” An overly cheerful, feminine voice pours from the speaker a moment after pressing the button.

“What happened? How long have I been here? Where is my–”

The door to your room opens, and you immediately breathe an audible sigh of relief as your last question is answered. He looks as though he could use a good night's sleep, but he is okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky exclaims as he rushes over to where you're still clutching the hospital bed railing for support. You follow his gaze to your arm, seeing that there's now blood all over your gown as well as the white floor around your feet.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mumble, embarrassed by your current state. He guides you back to the edge of the mattress before walking away to get a towel from the bathroom. “I was worried something happened to you,” you add weakly.

He wipes the blood trail on your skin before using the hand towel to apply pressure to the puncture in the bend of your arm.

“I'm okay,” he assures you delicately. “I had just gone to get some coffee.” He glances at the styrofoam to-go cup that you hadn't even noticed him place on the bedside table when he entered the room.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, noticing that it's still pitch dark outside. You also notice that he's no longer in the clothes that he wore on the mission - now wearing a pair of loose fitting black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “What happened?”

“There was another guy in the back of Petrov’s van,” Bucky tenses, still holding the towel to your arm for you. “We were both distracted and he snuck up on you. He hit you over the head with a piece of vibranium and threw you into the water.” His jaw clenches as he recounts what happened, meeting your gaze with a pained look.

“But you saved me,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he gulps. “I did. But I was almost too late. By the time I knocked out Petrov and killed the man who hit you.. it felt like it took forever to find you in the water. You almost drown–”

He cuts himself off, unable to force the last word out. A nurse enters the room as you open your mouth to offer him reassurance. Bucky holds your gaze for a split-second longer before reluctantly dropping his hold on your arm and turning to take a seat in the room's singular guest chair.

The nurse informs you that they did a CT scan while you were unconscious, and that while you don't have any swelling or bleeding on your brain from the blow, the doctor believes you to have a concussion and tells you that she will need to do an exam now that you are awake before they feel comfortable discharging you.

Judging by the high-pitched ringing that you've heard in your ears since you woke up and the way that you feel dizzy when you even think about trying to stand up, you don't doubt that you're concussed.

An hour later, you've been thoroughly examined and it is confirmed that yes - you are indeed concussed. The doctor discharges you under the condition that you don't drive and that someone keeps a close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.

“Don't worry,” you hear Bucky tell her when you step into the bathroom to throw on a pair of dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, and cheap shower slides that the hospital had given you to wear back to the hotel, seeing as how your tactical suit and boots are still sopping wet with ocean water. “I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

The nurse who helps you dress gives you a small smirk at his words.

“You're a lucky woman,” she tells you quietly. “He was worried sick until you woke up.”

You avoid her gaze, your cheeks heating. You busy yourself by tightening the drawstrings to the gray sweatpants.

“I am lucky,” you agree. “He's a great partner.”

She raises an eyebrow at the word partner, but doesn't make any further comment.

By the time that you and Bucky make it back to your hotel room, the sun has started to rise.

Bucky all but carries you inside, only letting go of you when you're perched on the edge of the mattress. Your head is still throbbing despite the extra strength ibuprofen that you'd taken before leaving the hospital, and you still can't walk without stumbling from dizziness, but at least the intense ringing in your ears has begun to subside.

You feel tired down to your very bones, but you have no doubt that Bucky is even more exhausted. You'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours during the night, whereas he had been awake the entire time sitting by your bedside.

“You get some rest,” you tell him. You brace your hands against the mattress, preparing to attempt to stand back up. “I smell like a mixture of sweat and fish from being in the ocean, so I'm going to shower off.”

You push yourself off of the bed, and as quickly as you stand, you're sitting back down. The room immediately begins spinning in circles around you, sending a wave of nausea through the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, not likely,” Bucky huffs lightly. “You can't stand up, and the shower doesn't have a seat. How about we compromise on a bath?”

You give a weak nod, too tired to protest. A warm bath sounds incredible right now.

Bucky retreats to the bathroom, where he turns on the water to fill the tub before returning to help you get up from the bed without toppling over. He secures his flesh arm around your waist and guides you to the closed toilet, where you carefully sit down.

“Do you.. need help undressing? Or..?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you breathe with an awkward laugh. “I think I've got it.”

He gives you a quick nod, looking away to give you the privacy to shed your clothes. You carefully tug the oversized t-shirt the hospital had given you over your head, wincing when it brushes against the swollen knot on the side of your scalp. You rise off the lid of the toilet just enough to push your sweatpants down to your ankles.

“Okay,” you murmur, letting him know that you're ready to step into the tub.

He grabs one of your hands in his, and places his metal hand on the small of your back as you step over the side of the large jacuzzi tub and into the water.

Not that you don't trust your other teammates. But with Bucky, it doesn't feel vulnerable.

You're aware of the intimacy of the scenario, but you can't find it in yourself to feel insecure or embarrassed right now - you're sure that's largely due to the concussion, but you think it's also simply because of who you're with.

If it were Sam, or Steve, or anyone else, you know you'd be mortified to be utterly exposed as they help you take a bath. If it were anyone else you wouldn't be taking a bath right now - you would have just gone to sleep and waited until you could fully do it yourself instead of putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

He lowers you into the water, your entire body instantly relaxing at the warmth. You glance to his face, noticing a faint purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“I'm going to leave the door cracked. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?”

You don't respond, instead reaching up to his face, where you run your finger along the outline of the bruise. He freezes beneath your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don't worry,” he assures you softly. “It was a lot worse when it first happened. It's already almost gone.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “It happened because of me. I wasn't paying attention as well as I should have been. Should have heard that guy coming.”

“Don't say that.” He places his flesh hand on top of where yours still rests against his cheek and then brings it in front of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “You're okay, and that's the only thing that matters now.”

“Mmm,” you hum, staring at his lips that are no more than an inch away from your hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice patient and curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to the bruise in a featherlight kiss. You pull back, once more resting your back against the tub and giving him a small shrug.

“Just thinking that I wanted to do that. Have for a while.”

He grins, a faint blush taking over the apples of his cheeks.

“Yeah, I'd say you're definitely concussed.”

He then presses his lips to the side of your hand, causing goosebumps to form across your skin despite the warm water that you sit in.

You chuckle, your smile matching his. “I am,” you agree. “But the concussion will go away soon, and I'll still want to kiss you then, too.”

“I hope that you will do just that.”

••••••

One month later

You wake up to the smell of campfire smoke that creeps through the crack in the partially zipped tent.

Despite a thick sleeping bag, multiple blankets, and the plush sweater that you wear, you can't help but shiver.

Something is missing.

You look around the tent, your eyes adjusting to the early morning daylight that filters into the tent.

Someone is missing.

You reluctantly exit your cozy sleeping bag, shoving your wool sock covered feet into your boots and crawling out of the tent.

Bucky is facing away from you, cracking an egg into a pan that is positioned over the fire.

“Good morning,” you murmur as you creep up behind him, wrapping an arm around his midsection. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teases softly. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Maybe some hiking, maybe some biking,” you shrug into him. “Maybe a little bit of you keeping me warm in that tent.”

He laughs, more carefree than you've ever seen him before.

“See? It's a good thing that your trip got postponed. What if I wasn't here to keep you warm?”

You raise up to capture his lips in yours, the taste of fresh brewed French press coffee on his breath.

“Remind me to thank Fury for that when we get back.”

thank you so much for reading 💕🫶🏻 comments and reblogs are infinitely appreciated!!

[yuujispinkhair]

How you get the girl

He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the guy who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.

Aka Sukuna is a lovesick mess who fucks things up on the first try because being open about his feelings is really not his strength but then makes up for it again.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, College AU Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: Light angst with a happy ending. Sukuna struggles with opening up about his feelings. Kissing. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.

"And that's why...I mean, what I want to say is, I love you, Sukuna."

You stand in front of him, wringing your hands nervously after saying all those sweet things about him that he never knew he was, and look up at him with a hopeful look in your pretty eyes. And Sukuna feels like he has been hit by a truck as he stares at you with wide maroon eyes and his heart hammering in his chest.

He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the star player of the basketball team, the popular asshole who gets invited to every party, the guy with the bad boy reputation, who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.

There are a lot of things going through his head. A lot of things he could confess to you. Like how much he likes spending time with you. Or that he thinks about your smile all day. Or that he likes how you laugh about his jokes and always play along when he says something teasing.

He knows he should be honest and tell you how weirdly full his chest feels when he holds you and that he likes it so much how you fit so perfectly into his arms and against his tall, muscular body. That it makes him want to protect you and care for you, just like the way you care for him so lovingly. He knows he could tell you that you are always his last thought before he falls asleep and the first one when he wakes up.

But he doesn't do any of that. He is frozen somehow. This big bad guy, who is always so loud and confident, is standing there staring at you with wide maroon eyes, nervously pushing his tongue piercing against the back of his incisors while he tries to think of what to say to you.

It's too much, too intense. He is good at flirting. He is good at kissing and fucking and sweet talk. But he isn't good at this!

Sukuna opens his mouth only to close it again, unable to put this overwhelming whirlwind of feelings into words. Or maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's not that he doesn't know what to say, but rather that everything he would say right now would feel too honest, too raw, and that is something that scares him. He has always been the rough one, the one who wears a mask of arrogance and indifference that lets him hide how he really feels.

Maybe that is why all he manages to say is,

"Thank you, princess."

He sees your face fall and hears a shaky breath escape your lips. You try to mask your disappointment, lips lifting in a forced smile as you back away from him with shiny eyes.

"You're welcome... I ... I will just go then. Bye, Sukuna."

He has never felt as helpless as when he stands there with his hands balled into fists as he watches you turn around and leave hastily.

He tries to pretend this moment never happened, tries to tell himself he did nothing wrong. It's fine. His reaction was a normal one. Things will be ok. You will come up to him tomorrow and roll your eyes and tease him about how he stood there like an idiot, and he will laugh and pull you against him and tell you that your beauty left him speechless and that, of course, he feels the same!

But that doesn't happen.

He doesn't see you anywhere in the next few days. There are no texts from you either. You're avoiding him, aren't you? Your friends send death glares his way when he passes them in the hallway.

He loses track of how often he pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans, just for his fingers to hover over your last message to him, unable to find the courage to type something.

The new episode of your favorite show airs tonight. He watches it. Of course, he does. He always does, even though he finds it boring and thinks the actors are super bad. But he watches it because you like it, and so he can talk to you about it. But tonight, you aren't in his bed to watch with him, and you aren't texting him about it either.

So Sukuna grabs his phone and finally texts you. He sends text message after text message all through the episode, commenting on the newest scandal and on the outfits of the main characters.

He doesn't get a reply.

On the fourth day, he sits in the living room with his brother, playing video games and losing round after round because his mind is too occupied with missing you and stressing about why he did what he did. And suddenly, he can't stop himself from throwing the controller on the floor and blurting out,

"I fucked up."

Yuuji looks at him with a questioning look,

"Do you mean in the game or something else? Are you in trouble?"

And Sukuna laughs gruffly and hides his face in his hands as he shakes his head. Luckily, his brother is persistent and doesn't leave him alone. The brat bugs him until Sukuna finally spills it out,

"She told me she loves me."

He doesn't even have to say your name. Yuuji knows. Of course, he does. He blinks at Sukuna in confusion.

"And what is the problem? That is amazing news!"

"I said thank you."

The seconds tick away, and Yuuji stares at him as if waiting for him to say more. Sukuna huffs and shakes his head before he adds,

"That's all. I thanked her... and then she left."

"What do you mean you thanked her, Kuna? What the fuck!? That isn't an acceptable way to reply to a love confession!"

"As if I don't know that! I... shit, I didn't know what to say! I was overwhelmed!"

He glares at his twin, desperation turning him into a hot, angry mess. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. He should grab his gym bag and go lift some weights and hit a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think!

But Yuuji's voice stops him.

"But.. but don't you like her? You looked so happy with her."

"Of course I do! I like her a lot."

He hates how soft his voice becomes when he says the last part. He hates how weak he feels when he feels his mask slip and knows he isn't able to hide the pain in his heart.

But luckily, this is Yuuji, his twin, the brat that has been practically attached to his hip ever since he was born three minutes after Sukuna. It's ok if he sees Sukuna like that. This is the little brother who loves Sukuna no matter what shitty situation he gets himself into. The brother who is so much better at being open about his feelings. The brother who isn't scared to tell him off when Sukuna does something stupid.

"When what are you still doing here, you idiot? Get the fuck up and go to her and talk to her! I will throw you out and lock the door! I am serious, Kuna! You only come back here after you made things ok again with your girl!"

It's ridiculous that he needs his younger brother to kick his ass and tell him what to do. It's absolutely pathetic that he jogs through the rain in the middle of the night to buy a huge bouquet of red roses and then bangs on your door with his pink hair dripping wet and his soaked-through white t-shirt sticking to his abs uncomfortably.

But maybe it's good to be pathetic sometimes because you don't slam the door into his face but look at him with a hopeful expression on your face and a soft,

"Hey, Sukuna."

He doesn't give a fuck anymore at that point. He doesn't care that he is standing in a small puddle of rainwater dripping down from his wet clothes. He doesn't care that his hand trembles when he pushes the roses into your arms. He doesn't care if the whole dorm hears him when he says,

"I am sorry! I was an idiot. You said all those sweet things to me, and in my head were so many things I wanted to tell you too, but I messed up."

He runs a large hand through his wet hair and slicks it back again, looking at you with eyes that glitter suspiciously, but he can blame it on the rain sticking to his long lashes,

"I like you too. Every minute with you was the best I ever had. I see your face in my mind all the time. Last week, I started laughing in the middle of the grocery store because I remembered something funny you said to me. I messed up my last exam because I was too distracted thinking about how your hand feels in my hair. I only feel ok when you are next to me because if you are not there, I feel like there is a crucial part of me missing. I know I suck at talking about my feelings, but that doesn't mean I don't have a hundred thousand of them when it comes to you, and all of them are fucking good and intense and drive me crazy and... I just.. fuck, I love you, princess. I love you, and I am so sorry!"

He feels out of breath, maybe from running through the rainy streets or maybe from letting out all of those words that make him feel so fucking vulnerable when being vulnerable was the one thing he always tried to avoid at all costs.

But there is this happy smile on your face. The smile he missed so damn much. And he knows it was worth it that he ran through the rain and spilled his heart out in the staircase of your dorm.

It was all worth it because you take a step towards him with happy tears in your eyes and a soft,

"Oh, Kuna."

And the next thing he knows is you are in his arms again, your warm body pressing tightly against his, not caring about his wet clothes. Your arms wrap around his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair of his undercut, making him let out a soft sigh. And you get on your tiptoes to kiss him right when he wraps his tattoed arms around your waist and pulls you even closer.

He can hear loud cheers and applause coming from somewhere in the staircase, but he really doesn't give a fuck anymore who heard his love confession. The whole world can know how he feels about you. He will shout it from the rooftop and punch everyone in the face who has a problem with it, if it means he can hold you again and kiss you and feel your smile against his lips.

I made myself cry thinking about this scene and then I HAD to write it aaaaah. I am so weak when Sukuna is a mess, it just makes me want to hug him and ruffle his hair and never let him go again. I am obsessed I think.

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it and that you are weak for this mess of a boy too ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[jakesangel]

sick jake ><

what jake wants jake gets but sick jake ? it will be the end for you. either that he pretends to be unable to do anything or is hyper, he would give you the time of your life.

when he gets his mouth ulcer, he knows the medecine will hurt him more so he wouldn't stop moving making it hard for the members of the staff to heal him. they even had to tie him up. but once you're in his life ? ? he would do it on purpose just to get you to heal him. he would whine out loud not caring of the situation or the place he is. he would jump around not wanting to be tied up again. he just doesn't want anyone else to heal him. he is all yours, why would him ? so when sunghoon had the idea to call you over, he was so happy. the happiest, he would grin so hard, making everyone in the room realized of his true intentions. but even if he didn't, he was suddenly patently waiting for you, sitting on the dance practice couch, a contrast from few seconds ago.

once you arrive w the members telling you what's happening and giving you the médecine, you would see a jake already looking at you, sitting w his legs moving around, his body buzzing of excitement. his smile would get bigger when he sees you approching with the medecine. he knows it will hurt, but knowing you'd be the one healing him, eases him. hi would he says w the biggest grin, you know you didn't have time come here, not even hiding the biggest lie he ever told you. he would grab your hands, leading you on his lap and then, put them on your thighs, lovingly strocking them, while you'd open the medecine. could you hold my face while you'll do it, princess ? he would expendantly ask, his face held high, eyes round to look at you only. please ?

but when jake is having a cold, he will act like a baby. he would either come over or beg u through text for you to come to him. he wouldn't even open the front door, pretending that he can't get out of his bed. he'd prepare himself : once you open the door he will cough n pretend his voice is roak, but it never works. once he his the door opens, he knows he won. he knows you are going to baby him and that he has you, all for himself, and maybe you'd even stay for the night. so every single time, he would smile so big once he sees you. and it is an endearing sight to see : he had himself wrapped up in his blanket, his head the only thing that can be seen. my princess finally came to save me, he'd dramatically say. kiss me i'm literally to die !, if he is contagious you'll obviously try to protest making him only whine louder so that's it. that's how i'm going ? without even a kiss from my princess. oh life hates me, or just negotiate with you please, baby ? i promise you ill take such good care of you if you do get sick. please ?

sick jake will not use hands. he would keep them under the blanket waiting for you to feed him, either food or the medicine. so when you're so close to him, on his bed, feeding him, he keeps it cool finally getting what he wants.he'd stop trying to kiss you but only opening and closing his mouth only when the spoon is approaching or leaving his face. jake would only move when he knows you guys will cuddle. so when you come back from the kitchen, his dishes on the sink, he'd have the blanket open for you. babe, could you touch my hair while we watch a movie, please ? he'd confide you. and that's only then he will fall asleep, your chest is pressed by his back, your hand on his hair.

notes : jake politely asking is making me insane but he is the cutest puppy he would so do this :(

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @heeseungswifefr @stwrjvke @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring

[rufflebuttercup]

romance analysis unit | spencer reid

summary: you like spencer. spencer likes you. somehow, you're the only ones on the team who can't see it - and that calls for some BAU intervention.

a/n: i had a bit of an impulsive moment and decided to delete my old blog (vintagecarat) because i wanted a redo, so if you've seen a variation of this fic before, it’s not been stolen - i promise! this is my favourite x reader i've ever written, so i had to rewrite it, of course!

enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day! <3 requests are open!

note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mention of alcohol, mention of canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt, mentions of blood, one bed trope

word count: 5,173

One year, seven months and sixteen days. That's how long it had been since you'd started working at the BAU.

One year, seven months and nine days. That's how long it had been since you'd realized that you had a sickeningly huge crush on Spencer Reid.

It had been a long time since you'd had a crush. The last time had been in elementary school, and you'd been convinced that you were in love with the boy who sat two seats to the left of you in class. He’d gone on to marry your best friend and leave you with a broken heart. In hindsight, though, you were only five.

You'd fallen for people before, and you'd had a string of partners in the past, but it had been such a long time since you'd felt the way you did when you looked at Spencer. Seeing him smile made your heart thud erratically in your chest. Hearing him ramble made you smile in the giddiest and most euphoric way possible. Feeling his fingers brush against yours whenever he handed you your morning coffee made your brain turn to mush and left you unable to form a coherent sentence for at least ten minutes. You were trying your hardest to break that last habit, though.

Your crush on Spencer quickly became a topic that you knew you wanted to keep a secret from the rest of the team. The last thing you needed was all of your progress as the newest team member to be weighed down by a crush that made you blush and giggle like a child.

During a particularly wild night out with the team, though, your plan to keep your crush on Spencer a secret went flying out of the nearest window, along with any shred of dignity you had remaining after drinking one too many shots. It had been a miracle that Spencer hadn't been there at the exact moment the words spouted from your lips. At least you had your drunk self to thank for something, you supposed.

Penelope had been the first one you'd told. Definitely a foolish move on your part, but you were too drunk in the moment to make any logical decisions. Emily and JJ had gone to the bar to get more drinks - "another round of shots", Emily had screamed before dragging JJ away - leaving you and Penelope alone to guard the table in the corner. She was the one who'd brought up the conversation, and naturally, you'd followed along without a care in the world. If there was anything good to come of the situation, then it was the look on Penelope’s face. You wished you’d taken a picture of her expression as the words tumbled from your mouth.

Penelope couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and once she knew, it was only a matter of time before Emily and JJ knew. She’d screamed so loudly that you’d almost gotten kicked out of the bar for causing a disturbance.

"Place your bets," Emily had shouted over the pounding bass music, slamming a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, "How long until Garcia tells Morgan?"

It barely even took an hour. Emily ended up winning her own bet.

Derek had practically cornered you at your desk the next time he saw you in the bullpen, failing miserably to hide the smirk on his face as he showed you his phone and the babbling, completely unintelligible, texts from Penelope.

With the alcohol out of your system and the devastating hangover a painful memory, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. Maybe you could quit, or request a transfer, or simply disappear to the other side of the country and become a recluse in the wilderness. Wishful thinking, of course.

From that moment on, you noticed that the rest of the team was messing with you. You didn’t have any proof, but you were sure of it. You’d enter the conference room to find that the only seat remaining was next to Spencer. You’d find yourself paired up with Spencer more often during cases. You and Spencer would frequently be the last two members left in the bullpen at the end of the day. 

It wasn't as if you particularly minded. You and Spencer were best friends. You had been from the moment you'd walked into the bullpen on your first day and immediately made a comment about the book he was reading. You were used to being around him more often than not, but it was a lot harder to act as if nothing had changed when you were on edge 90% of the time. You were always wondering if he knew anything about the crush you had on him, or if someone else was about to blurt out the secret that you were trying so desperately hard to keep hidden. You couldn't bring it up because you'd either out yourself or you'd be forced to have a conversation that you were sure would end in rejection.

It was an endless cycle, and you hated it.

You were in the bullpen with Dave, perched on the edge of your desk as he rattled off his famous carbonara recipe. You’d always wanted to be a better cook, and Dave had promised you that he'd teach you, even though he really didn't want you burning his kitchen down to the ground.

“Okay, so, do you add the cheese and the egg together, or separately?”

“You combine the egg first, and then you add the cheese.”

“Oh. Right. So…”

It was at that moment that Derek decided to sidle over to the conversation, perching himself on your desk beside you with an all-too familiar smirk on his face. 

“Since when have you been interested in learning how to cook?” he gave you a not-so-subtle nudge.

You shot Derek a glare, “Derek. Don't.”

"Unless you were planning a date for pretty boy over there.”

He nodded his head in Spencer's direction, and you couldn't help but follow his eyes. It was automatic. The sight of Spencer pouring pretty much the entire jar of sugar into his coffee made you smile, but it was definitely an expression you wiped off your face when you heard Derek's laughter.

“I swear to God, Derek…”

“Guys,” JJ interrupted, entering the bullpen with a case file in hand, “We've got a case.”

“Is it bad?”

JJ simply grimaced. 

“Of course it is,” you said with a sigh, hopping off your desk. Derek was still failing to hide his laughter beside you, and you swatted at him, “Shut up, Derek.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

It didn’t surprise you at all to see that the seat beside Spencer was the only one available. As you slid into it, you caught Emily smirking at you from across the table, though she was clearly trying to hide it. You shook your head at her, though you couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting over your lips as you focused your attention onto the case file in your hands.

ꨄ︎

It always seemed as though every case at the BAU was worse than the last one.

You’d all been called to a small town in Wyoming after a frantic call from the police department. Three victims had been found in the town’s frozen lake with anchors tied to their ankles to keep them below the surface. A fourth victim had gone missing, and there was no doubt that she’d end up like the others if she wasn’t found. It was a horrifying fact that everybody knew, but nobody wanted to admit.

It was later, almost 11 pm, and you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when you’d first arrived. It was as if the unsub was always three steps ahead of you, and it was frustratingly annoying. You’d spent a good portion of the afternoon scouring through decade old case files. The lead detective was convinced that it was related to a similar case that had happened in the 1990s. You hadn’t found any striking similarities between the two and you were beginning to wonder if there would be any at all. He was clutching at straws, desperately trying to close the case as quickly as possible. You couldn’t fault him for that.

Just as the words on the case file were beginning to blur into one large amalgamation, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, “Hey,” JJ said, “We’re all heading to the hotel.”

“You go ahead,” you waved dismissively, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to finish looking over these files, and…”

“Hotch’s orders,” she cut you off, “You need a break. We all do.”

You looked to the doors of the precinct and saw the rest of the team ready to leave, muttering amongst themselves in a tired conversation. Aaron raised his eyebrows, almost expectantly, at you.

“Alright,” you didn’t bother trying to hide another yawn, “I’m coming.”

JJ smiled softly at you, almost dragging you to your feet because of how exhausted you were. It didn’t really feel as if your brain was in control of your body as you padded after her. You’d been so caught up in the details of the case that you hadn’t realized how tired you truly were. The sudden rush of air that hit you as you exited the building made you even drowsier.

“You look exhausted,” Spencer chuckled as he helped you into the SUV with a gentle hand on the small of your back that almost made you combust right then and there, "I've seen you tired, but this is another level."

You simply made a little grunt in response. You didn't have enough energy to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks. You clumsily collapsed into your seat, and you leaned your head back against the headrest as your eyes fluttered shut.

It wasn't too long of a drive to the hotel, but that didn't stop you from catching a quick power nap during the brief moment of peace. You couldn't get Spencer out of your head. Or, more specifically, that hand on the small of your back. He'd never touched you like that before. Ever. It was sending your brain spiraling, to be honest.

“We’re here,” Spencer’s voice filtered into your ear as he gently shook your shoulder,  “Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glanced to your left. After a moment, your eyes came back into focus, and it hit you that your head was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder, “Oh,” you quickly sat up, though you almost choked as the seat belt snapped you back against the seat, “Sorry.”

You were so very glad that most of the team weren’t in the same SUV as the two of you because they’d never let you hear the end of it. The only other person was Aaron, and as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror, you could tell that he was trying not to uncharacteristically laugh at you. You did your best to ignore him, which wasn’t exactly easy when your face began to burn with a familiar wave of heat that you’d grown accustomed to.

That chuckle of Spencer’s that you loved so much and made your heart do flip-flops in your chest echoed in your ears, “It’s fine. You clearly needed it. And I do make an excellent pillow.”

You snorted out a laugh, and you gave him a shove as you climbed out of the car beside him, “Shut up.”

The rest of the team were all waiting beside the front desk with their bags as you and Spencer entered. Even though you made sure to look in any other direction, you definitely saw the subtle smirks Derek and Emily were shooting you out of the corner of your eye. 

Aaron finished his hushed conversation with the receptionist, and with a curt nod, he moved back over to the rest of the team with key cards in his hand, “They don’t have enough rooms for all of us. Looks like we’re doubling up.”

If Spencer noticed the subtle smirks and side glances from the rest of the team, he never mentioned them.

Instead, he nudged your shoulder, “We’re sharing, right?”

“Of course, we’re sharing. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you took the key card Aaron was holding out to you, and you couldn’t help but notice his lips twitching up into a tiny little-half smirk. You brushed it off, though, “I’m sleeping on the bed nearest the window this time.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer followed you as you made your way to the elevator, “I like sleeping near the window.”

“No. Not happening. You slept near the window last time.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the elevator shot up to your designated floor. Your eyes wandered around the small space, and you found yourself looking anywhere other than at Spencer. You weren’t an anxious person, and it wasn’t as if being alone with Spencer was a new thing to you, but your mind was racing. All because of that one small gesture. His hand on the small of your back. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and you wished you could because it was making your cheeks burn.

“Even the elevators are fancy,” you muttered, casting a quick glance around the elevator’s plush and yet miniscule interior, “For a small town, they sure do have nice hotels.”

Things really were dire when you started making small talk. You were the type of person who could make a mountain out of a molehill with how much you talked. You almost rivaled Spencer with how much you could babble on. Small talk wasn’t your thing at all.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“You hate small talk,” Spencer said, and you bit back a laugh at that. It was as if you and Spencer were on the same wavelength sometimes, “And you’re picking at the hole in your sweater. You only ever do that when you’ve got something on your mind.”

You immediately glanced down at your hands, dropping them from your sweater as if it burned. You hadn’t even realized you’d been picking at the hole until Spencer mentioned it. You hadn’t even realized that there was a hole at all. Your bottom lip jutted out in a quick pout, “I love this sweater.”

Spencer chuckled at that, “So,” he continued, “You’re clearly nervous about something. And it’s not the case, because cases never make you nervous.”

“Really?” you said, a hint of laughter creeping into your tone, “You’re analyzing me?”

The elevator reached your floor, and the doors opened with a loud ding, “I’m not analyzing,” Spencer stepped out, “I’m simply making an astute observation.”

“Okay, well stop astutely observing me,” you followed after him, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You know I’d tell you, “ it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Maybe you’d tell him. Eventually. 

Spencer glanced back at you briefly as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but he never said anything. Instead, he took the keycard from you and held it against the lock, waiting for the light to turn green before pushing open the door, “Oh.”

“What?” you sidestepped around him, “Oh.”

There was only one bed. Sure, it was a double, but it was still tiny. It was in that moment that you decided perhaps becoming an unsub wouldn’t be a lost cause. 

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

You and Spencer finished your sentences at the same time, and you turned to look at each other. As soon as you locked eyes, you both started to laugh at the stupidity of the situation. 

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either,” you argued, “It’ll kill your back, Spence. You’re way too tall.”

“It’s not fair on you, though. You’ll…” Spencer was about to argue some more, but he stopped when he saw the look on your face. Spencer couldn’t argue his way out of a wet paper bag - when it came to you, at least.

“Look, Spence. It’s fine,” you dropped your bag onto the couch before he could protest, “There. Easy. No harm done.”

Spencer frowned, but he reluctantly put his own bag on the bed, “Fine. We’re swapping tomorrow night, though,” he told you, almost ordering you, “You’re not sleeping on the couch the entire time we’re here.”

“Deal,” your lips curled up into a smile, and you sat down on the couch, “See. I told you I’d be sleeping near the window.”

Spencer laughed at that. 

ꨄ︎

From your space on the couch, you could faintly see the glowing green alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. A strange commodity for a hotel room. It almost looked alien. 

2:32 a.m. 

You couldn’t sleep. You had a bad enough sleep schedule at the best of times, but the injury on your side was making things worse. It still burned, and if you gently put pressure on the area, you could still feel the deep wound through the layers of bandages. 

You were almost three days into the case, and you’d finally had a solid lead. It had taken a lot of digging, but Penelope had discovered the unsub’s hunting ground; an old speakeasy hidden so deep in the town that nobody had been able to trace it. Since you were the closest in victimology, you’d agreed to go undercover to catch the unsub once and for all. All you’d ended up with was a knife embedded deep into your side as the unsub escaped once again.

You’d been in the hospital for hours after that. The knife had gone in so deep that it was close to catching something vital, and the doctors had told you that you were lucky to be alive. You’d spent most of that afternoon in a hospital bed, listening to the monotonous sound of beeping machines. After a concerned lecture from Aaron - he’d told you not to follow the unsub but you hadn’t exactly listened - you were bandaged up and sent on your way.

Spencer had told you to take the bed. He’d almost forced you into it at one point. But you’d seen the way he’d tried to discreetly stretch out his cramp throughout the day, and you were far too stubborn, so you refused his offer and tried to sleep on the couch for the night. It wasn’t working, though. 

You huffed in pain, shifting uncomfortably in the hopes of finding a better position to sleep in. Every movement made your bandages rub against the wounded area. You finally thought you found a comfortable enough position and you tried to settle down, but then you felt a dampness seeping through your bandages, and you cursed under your breath.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, pulling your shirt up and surveying your body. Even in the darkness, you could see the dark spot where the blood had begun to soak through, “Goddamnit.” 

You pushed yourself off the couch and tip-toed across the room. You didn’t want to wake Spencer, especially not in your current state. You kept a hand tightly pressed against your side as you slowly moved. You didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. The staff seemed lovely, and you didn’t want to ruin their day with your mess. Every single step made you wince as a sharp pain shot straight through your body, and your breaths came out as sharp little puffs of air. 

A muffled noise from the bed caught your attention, and you saw Spencer begin to stir. He gently mumbled your name as he sat up and stared at you with bleary eyes, “What are you doing?” he looked you up and down, and then his eyes settled on the blood, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him, though you clearly weren’t, “I think the stitches came undone or something. It’s fine,” you tried to wave his worries off, “Go back to sleep.”

Spencer did the opposite. He clambered out of bed and turned on the light, lighting up the room so that you could both see each other clearly. Your heart started to thud a little faster when you saw that the shirt he was wearing to sleep in was a little undone towards the top. You’d never noticed that before. 

“You’re not fine,” his eyes were laser focused on the blood as he took a step closer to you, “You’re bleeding.”

“Good observation skills, Spencer,” you laughed a little, though you grunted in pain as it aggravated the injury, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll redress it, and…” you paused when you saw the look in his eyes. It was a look he’d never given you before, and it stole your breath for a moment. 

“Let me see.”

“Spencer...”

“It’s obviously hurting you,” his sentence was almost demanding, and yet there was a soft and concerning tone to his voice, too, “Let me see it.”

You sighed. There was no way you could refuse when he spoke to you with that tone of voice. You gingerly lifted your shirt high enough for him to see it, “It looks worse than it is.”

Spencer gently pulled away the loose bandages and inspected the open wound, his eyes never leaving your body, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “You’re not redressing it yourself, and you’re certainly not stitching yourself back up.”

You barely had a chance to respond before Spencer had darted into the bathroom, and he came out moments later with a roll of bandages the hospital had given you. 

“Here. Sit,” he sat back down on the bed, and he patted the space beside him, “You’ll have to go back to hospital tomorrow. I’ll help you rebandage it for tonight,” his eyes darted between your own eyes and the blood that seemed to be pooling on your side, “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Spencer…” there was no point in arguing with him, you knew that, and your wound hurt the longer it was left open, “Fine.”

You sat down beside Spencer, curling your legs up under you as you turned your back to him. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, holding it up high enough so that it wasn’t dangling in the way. This wasn’t the first time that Spencer had patched you up after an injury in the field, but this was the first time where you were definitely feeling a little light-headed. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer’s voice was a gentle whisper against your ear. You hadn’t even realized that he was practically leaning his head on your shoulder, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands were so gentle on your skin that it was almost as if he wasn’t even touching you at all. The only indication that he was even helping you was the bandages around your torso since he wrapped them so tightly that they felt like a strangely comforting hug. 

“There,” Spencer said, almost proudly, and he gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Done.”

You glanced down at your body before dropping your shirt. The wound didn’t even seem to hurt any more. You became very aware very quickly that Spencer’s hands hadn’t left your hips, “Thank you.”

You shuffled around until you were facing him, and when your eyes locked, it suddenly felt as if time had come to a standstill. That look was back in his eyes; the one that you’d never seen before that made you feel as though you were melting on the inside. You weren’t entirely sure what was racing faster; your heart or your mind. 

And suddenly, before you could really comprehend your actions, your lips were on his. Your body acted before your brain could catch up. Your hands tugged slightly on the collar of his shirt as if you were trying to pull him closer to you. The kiss was tender, and yet it was so full of obvious desire. Warmth flooded your entire body as your stomach seemed to explode with swarms of butterflies. This was a moment you’d thought about for a long time, and once your brain caught up, you couldn’t quite comprehend that it was happening.

It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. You pulled away, and it was only after you saw the startled expression on Spencer’s face and the faint blush that crept up his neck that you realized what you’d done, “Spence…” your mouth opened and closed, but now words came out for a good few seconds, “Spencer. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Your panicked babbling was cut off as Spencer pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Shut up,” he smiled, and he pressed his index fingers where his lips had been moments ago, “Just shut up for a minute.”

If this were any other time, you’d be rather offended that he told you to shut up, and you’d keep talking. In this situation, however, you were happy to keep your mouth shut.

“You didn’t mean to, what? You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. I mean… Yes, but also no, but…”

Spencer raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk, “I thought I told you to shut up.”

You pressed your lips together in a fine line, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips, and he took your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs began tracing soft little circles onto your palms, “You kissed me.”

You were more than ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Spencer seemed to notice because his grip on your hands got a little tighter as if he knew you’d go run, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

There was no stopping the surprised squeak that escaped your lips, “What?!”

Spencer chuckled at that, and the pink blush had spread up to his cheeks, “I’m glad you kissed me,” he repeated, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“You… You…” your mouth was hanging open, and your eyes were wide. You must’ve looked like an absolute idiot, “You have…?”

“Of course, I did.”

This conversation was going in an entirely different direction to how you’d assumed it was. You’d never seen Spencer look or talk with so much affection before. Spencer said your name with so much love in his tone that it snapped you out of your shocked state, “I like you.”

For a single moment in time, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. You simply stared, unable to do much of anything else except feel a sharp tug at your heart, “You… You do…?”

“Are you capable of putting a sentence together, or not?” Spencer laughed, and he interlaced his fingers with yours, “Yes, I do. A lot, actually,” he smiled at you, and there was a hint of teasing, “I might be a genius, but even the dumbest person in the room could figure you out right now.”

You cracked a smile, and your shocked expression gave way to a relieved and delighted one, “I really like you, too.”

“Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up,” you giggled, and you never giggled. You knew this crush was childish, but this was on another level entirely.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you giggle.”

“I’m not giggling.”

“Oh, you absolutely are. You’ve always been a terrible liar,” Spencer grinned at you, and then his lips connected with yours. 

The kiss seemed more affectionate than earlier, and a lot more passionate. Your hands wound around his neck, and his hands found a comfortable resting place on your waist. Your lips seemed to perfectly fit together like two puzzle pieces. It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been minutes. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had been, but you eventually pulled away from each other, and you were both a little breathless from the intensity. Intense was something you never expected from Spencer. You liked it, though.

You let your forehead rest against Spencer’s, “I hate to ruin the mood and everything, but…” your eyes flitted back and forth to the couch, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Absolutely not,” Spencer pulled you a little closer, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. Especially not now.”

“Good,” you curled into him as he pulled you closer to his side, letting your head rest against his chest with a gentle sigh, “The bed has better company.”

Spencer maneuvered the two of you until you were lying on the bed, and he tucked you that tiny bit closer into him. You’d imagined him hugging you plenty of times, but this felt better than any imagination could. He kissed the top of your head, and he ran a gentle hand up and down your back, “Sure does.”

ꨄ︎

“Penelope Garcia! I’m going to kill you!”

You stormed through the BAU and entered Penelope’s office, slamming the door open with such a bang that it made the walls shudder.

Penelope grinned as she spun around in her chair to face you, “Ah, my sweet angel,” she spoke with a beaming grin on her face, “Do you require my assistance?”

“You little…” you stepped a little closer, but it was hard to look even slightly threatening with a goofy grin on your face that you were trying to hide, “You gave me and Spencer the only room with a single bed?”

“I did no such thing.”

“I spoke to everyone else, Pen. Everyone else had a bed of their own.”

Penelope continued to smirk at you, not even trying to hide her laughter, “It worked, didn’t it? I haven’t seen you as happy as this in weeks.”

You faltered at that. She wasn’t wrong. Ever since you’d gotten back from Wyoming, you’d been happier than anyone had ever seen you. Of course, everyone knew about you and Spencer, and it didn’t take long for the good-natured teasing to pick straight back up, “Yeah. Okay. It worked, but…”

Penelope held up a manicured finger to cut you off, “Besides, my sweet,” she continued, leaning forward in her chair as if she had a secret to tell you, “I was the one who booked the rooms, yes, but I wasn’t the one who handed out the keys, was I?”

Another pause. The words slowly sunk in, and then your mouth dropped open in a mix of shock, humiliation, and a little bit of gratitude, “You… You don’t mean…”

Penelope grinned. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and it made her laugh, “Oh, I mean exactly what you think I mean, my love.”

“Hotch set us up?!” you didn’t even wait for Penelope’s response. You turned on your heel and marched out of her office, leaving Penelope laughing to herself behind you, “Aaron Hotchner! I’m going to kill you.”

[awizix]

name: anti stress

character: nanami kento (jujutsu kaisen)

tags?: afab! reader, 18+, face sitting, handjob, it's so soft what the hell, petnames (love), reader isn't shaved (i said it.), being gentle and soft together.

words: around 2,3k

notes: nanami kento.......this man is always on my mind. my roman impire. i just wanted to write something about him so bad oh my god (and i did it with not one but two hands wow) + english isn't my first language

it's friday night.

you close the apartment door behind you as you let out a deep sigh. this day was a hell on earth, you're sure of it. you awkwardly take off your heels, carelessly tossing them on the doormat — you'll put them away later, you're too tired to care about it. (kento will probably do it himself — he always looks after you and your belongings).

you ungraciously walk to the kitchen in this pencil skirt that doesn't allow you to take bigger than normal steps and put boxes with take out food on the counter. it's 9:41 pm. a bit earlier kento sent a message asking what would you want for dinner but you replied that you will get take out today — you know this week was just as hard for him as it was for you. probably even harder so you said he shouldn't cook tonight or he might pass out from standing too much.

you walk towards living room as it's the only room with a light on (you know it's the lamp near tv that gives off warm, not too bright light — kento's eyes can get really tired by the end of the day).

you immediately notice him as you enter the room and even in your tired state a small smile appears on your face. he's sitting on the floor, with his back supported by the couch and his head laying on the soft cushion. he's still in his work suit and white shirt (even though now his clothes are all wrinkled from the long day). you notice a bowl with water on the coffee table near by and a wet cloth covering his eyes. you can see that he noticed your presence as well, slightly turning his face to you. you take off your jacket and throw it on the couch as you make your way towards him and slide to the floor, pressing yourself against him.

you both sigh at the contact, finally reunited after this hell of a day. you gently take the wet cloth as you start carefully wipe the excess water on his face and throw it back in the bowl. kento opens his eyes, these hazel orbs looking at you lovingly as he says "welcome home, love". you smile as your palms find their place on his face, gently caressing his stubble. the sensation isn't unpleasant under your fingertips, but you'll help him to shave in the morning. now? you don't want to move from the floor at all.

you get closer to his face and kiss him softly — a completely chaste kiss, just to feel each over, to relax and ground yourselves. he answers willingly, his strong hands grabbing your waist, squeezing and pulling your body closer. he mumbles, a slight mischief in his voice, "tired day?". you giggle as you hide your face in his chest.

he knows it was. the whole week was busy — you with your additional project at work and kento wish missions, reports and meetings. you almost haven't seen each other at all this week, only exchanging quick sleepy kisses as kento was leaving too early in the morning for you to be up and you coming home too late to find him already sleeping in the bed. but it's friday. with whole two days of rest ahead.

so you say, quietly and smiling "a whole week, you can say". you massage the back of his neck, occasionally touching short hair of his undercut and he groans at the feeling. you ask him, unable to hide concern in your voice, "how are you feeling?". you know he works so hard sometimes, coming home with dark bags underneath his eyes and bruised body. he rolls his head back on the couch, closing his eyes, as he answers, "just tired. mission took longer than it was planned. but I'm unharmed".

you smile as your hands travel to his broad shoulders and god, you can't keep your hands off this man. even through layers of fabric you can feel his muscles and power hidden in his body. "can i do something? to help you to relax?"

kento is silent for a moment. "yes"

you angle your head, even if he can't see that. you hum, "hm?". you can make him his favourite tea or give him a massage (you read about it online just for him). so you expect something like that, not...

"sit on my face".

you blink several times and shake your head in disbelief. have you.... heard it correctly? "what?". suddenly, with his hands still on your waist, he tugs you closer and you almost fall on him but he holds you firmly but carefully like the most expensive treasure. your face is so close to his and he whispers into your lips, "sit on my face. please, love".

his hands start caressing your back, slowly running up and down, and your body runs hot on autopilot as a response to his touch. but then he kisses you and your mind goes blank — this kiss is nothing like the previous one. it's hot and wet as he licks your lips and his tongue enters your mouth. one of his hands presses your cheeks together, urging you to open your mouth wider and you comply as you moan instantly, feeling him sucking on your tongue.

he breaks a kiss and you look at him, breathless, your chest heaving, "i... i thought you were tired". he hums, his hot hands now exploring the front of your body through your work shirt — he slides them from your exposed neck to your breasts, palming them through your bra, lower to your soft stomach and then up again. "and this is exactly what will help me to relax".

you swallow hard. gosh, he's impossible. you use his shoulders for leverage as you try to get up, "okay, okay. just give me 10 minutes? I'll shower and then..."

"no. don't".

you look at him, puzzled, "hm? what? what do you mean?"

his wandering hands slide lower, gripping your ass as he says, "want you right now. here".

you smile at him, gently shaking your head, "kento, love, i took a shower in the morning but i spent the whole day on my feet, okay? I'm probably sweaty and...".

"and i want you just like that", kento's raspy voice interrupts you. you look at him, his gaze serious but full of desire and want, his pupils dilated with lust pooling in them. you whisper, "are you... are you sure?".

"yes, I'm sure".

you get up, still nervous but with unmistakable heat burning between your thighs. you start pulling your pencil skirt down as kento's hands gently brush against the back of your calfs. next, you tug down your sheer tights and simple cotton underwear and kento groans at the sight of your pussy, "fuck, thought about this beauty the whole week". he pulls you closer as he starts leaving hot wet kisses on your thighs, getting closer and closer to your heat. there, he inhales deeply and moans. you feel blood rushing to your face as you mumble, "kento, oh my god...".

he looks up at you with a small smile as he plants several kisses to the dark patch of hair. you moan — both at the feeling and how unbelievable he is — as you gently caress his hair. he rolls his head back, laying it on the couch and gently slaps your thighs, "come on. get on, love".

you silently follow his order, getting on the couch facing its back, with his head between your parted legs. his strong arms hug your thighs as he pulls you lower and lower until you're completely seated. a shudder runs through you at the feeling of his stubble gently brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs.

you grip the back of the couch until it hurts a little as you feel his hot tongue pressed completely flat against your womanhood as he starts licking you. he sucks on your folds and teases your clit with a pointed end of his tongue — you start rocking involuntarily, but kento's hands just squeeze harder, locking you in the place.

you whine and mewl as he keeps licking, sucking and kissing — you're so wet you can hear slurps and squelches. you start impatiently unbuttoning your shirt, fingers shaking and not listening too well. halfway through, you grow annoyed and with just a half of buttons undone, you take it off through you head, throwing in on the couch somewhere. you quickly take off your bra and a loud moan erupts from you as you grab your tits, gently rolling perky nipples between your own fingers.

you whine and shut your eyes as you imagine what he looks like — still in his suit, with his incredible dick out, gently palming himself as he smears precum on the soft skin and brings you closer to the cloud 9 with his wonderful hot tongue.

kento's hands disappear from their place on your thighs and with newfound freedom you can't help but start riding his face, just a little, just a bit of back and forth. after a moment you hear a zipper being pulled down, rustling of fabric and feel kento letting out a dreamy sigh, hot air hitting your sensitive folds, as he starts stroking himself.

kento's free hand slides higher, joining yours in palming and massaging your tits as his wet tongue starts entering you that makes your thighs shake. he gently bites your folds and you arch with a loud mewl, parting your legs even wider in your attempt to get his face even closer to your heat. he pinches your nipples softly that earns a loud shriek from you and you can feel him smirking.

you get closer and closer to your orgasm from his skillful movements and as he angles his face so he good plunge his tongue deep into you with his nose pressing against your cute clit and you suddenly cum with a silent moan. your thighs press together, shaking, trapping his head between them but it seems he doesn't mind in the slightest as he eagerly drinks your juices, licking you clean.

you're panting like you just ran a maraphon as you guide your shaking hair to his head — still between your thighs — to softly pat his hair. you look down and by the creases around his eyes you know kento's smiling. you gigle as you get up with a wet sound and slide lower to find your place on his lap as he still slowly strokes himself.

you start unbuttoning his shirt as he keeps his pace — he's close, but he's not in a hurry. you kiss him, wet and hot, as you finally get your hands on his hard chest and stomach. you almost purr as your hands glide lower and accidently touch his hard cock. you smile in the kiss as you put your hand on top of his moving one, your fingertips gently carassing his hot dick. your other hand is softly rubbing his velvet skin, coated with a thin layer of sweat. you can feel a rapid heartbeat under your palm and the way his lungs expand with each inhale. you gently caress his hardened nipples and he groans in your mouth.

he lets go of the hold on the dick, allowing you to take the reins as his hands start touching your body, gently caressing your sides but almost aggresively grabbing and sqeezing your tits. you whine pitifully as you wrap your hand around him, gripping him firmly and stroking him fast — just the way kento loves. you break the kiss, you two looking at each other and breathing the same air. you feel muscles of his abs tightening under your fingertips as you whisper breathly, "like that?". he's nodding as he guides your body closer to him, your moving hand now trapped between your bodies. "yeah....fuck, yeah, like that. just.....just touch the head".

you hum and move your palm to the mushroom like head of his dick, wrapping a tight circle around it as you start stroking him there — firmly and vigorously. that earns you a low moan from kento as his head rolls back, exposing his sensetive neck and you can't help yourself as you start kissing his salty skin, marking him lightly and gently biting his adam's apple.

a minute later he groans, eyes shut and his body tensed, as he cums with his warm seed getting on his chest and stomach as well as your fingers. you slow down your movements, helping him to ride his high and milking him. after several moments you retrieve your hand to grab a wet cloth from the bowl. you clean your hand and carefully wipe kento's body as his tired gentle eyes follow your every movement. you throw it back in the bowl and he pulls you closer, his hands secure around your waist.

he kisses you then, deeply but without any heat — only love and gratitude. you gigle quietly, breaking the kiss and looking at him warmly. he smiles at you, "thank you, love".

"feel better?".

"so much better".

you raise your hands and stretch, muscles tensing for a moment but relaxing a second later. unbeknownst to you, kento's gaze glides on your body — soft tummy and the way your tits move. you're so beautiful. he kisses the place between your breasts and you laugh softly. he whispers, "i love you".

you gently caress his face, "love you too".

"shower?".

"oh my god, yes".

P.S. istg if he was real i would have to be put down like a feral animal.

[peachsayshi]

🩵

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) - dad gojo x reader

papa's scary face is how your daughter describes it. the difference when her usually bubbly, bright father morphs into somebody else. the expression he makes when she accidentally walks in on you and satoru having a serious argument. when she catches him coming home from work with his shoulders taut and his brows furrowed.

satoru's daughter is the light of his life - his little peace of heaven on earth. that's why he is so terrible when it comes to discipline (a lecture you constantly have to give him). she has never been on the receiving end of your lover's scary face. isn't familiar with the hardened muscles he express when serious, or notices the angry twitch of his jaw when frustrated.

it's rare, but these moments happen. satoru may possess godlike powers, but he's still inherently human. his very essence the same that make up you and your daughter.

you're surprised when you see her quietly tiptoe her way towards the sofa, towards you and her father. her energetic aura dwindled by silence. her bottom lip is tucked tightly between her teeth, her beautiful round eyes varnished with tears ready to fall.

satoru's face instantly drops with concern. his body immediately growing protective with his arm lightly slipping away from around your waist.

"you okay, mochi?" he asks sweetly, his brow quirking at her arms tucked behind her back.

you both know that she's hiding something.

"I did something bad" she says quietly, her worried voice so small it makes satoru spring to his feet to meet her halfway.

he crouches on his knees, his height daunting compared to hers. he lightly tugs at her frosty pigtail, and she sniffles ever so slightly to keep her brave face in place.

always trying to hold a strong front, just like her father.

"what did you do?" he asks with a gentle smile, watching her shift from one foot to the next.

" I..uhm...I was playing with your toys," she mumbles, unable to meet his gaze as she keeps her own firmly on her pattering feet. "I know they're yours. I know I have’ta ask first. I was tryna to be...uhm..."

"careful?" satoru completes, tilting his head in an attempt to make contact with his hesitant daughter who still hasn't figured out all her words just yet.

"yeh that..." she grumbles to reveal what's behind her hands.

you press your fingers against your lips when you see it.

satoru's favorite pair of sunglasses.

a limited edition pair from one of his favorite high fashion brands. he splurged a stupid amount of money of it. even kept the packaging because he hyper fixated on the details. the frame was extremely delicate, which is why he rarely wore it. but he gushed over it for almost a year since it's pre-release was announced.

his daughter, however, has a habit of sneaking into her father's room to steal one of the many pairs of shades that your lover wore. she enjoyed "modeling" them, and would flash poses in front of your bedroom mirror while sifting through his collection like they were treasure.

you and satoru have caught her doing this many times before, and while the both of you found it adorable, you realized that your daughter wasn't very careful when handling things.

she scratched the lens of another pair that belonged to her father. bent the temple of a second, which he hasn't been able to fix.

so, when satoru received these specific shades, the two of you sat her down to try and explain that she couldn't freely just loot around his stuff without asking for permission.

right now, those very shades where split into two in his daughter's hands.

satoru's jaw goes slack when he picks them up from her tiny palms, his cheeks tinting a slight red from surprise.

"im sorry, papa," she timidly begs, bringing her now empty hands to cover her eyes. her body heaves, you can see that she is trying really hard not to cry.

satoru allows the shock to settle for only just a minute, before he places the broken sunglasses by his side. there's something else that washes over him - relief.

he circles his arms around her wrists, tugging them away from her face but she keeps them fiercely in place. he chuckles with ease, shaking his head in disbelief as he loosens his grip to grab her waist and pull her into his frame.

"silly girl," he teases. "it's okay, papa's not mad, I promise..."

"but I didn't listen to what you 'n mama said-"

"I know," he sighs calmly, "and you know that was wrong, right? not to listen?"

she nods her head yes, her hands still covering her face.

"Eyes on me, grabby hands..." satoru lectures but she shakes her head no.

"Don't wanna see your scary face," she awkwardly admits, and you can't help but bite back a smile.

she's far too innocent to understand what those expressions. to young to acknowledge that they weren't always bad. that they were, in fact, normal. and that one day she will bare the cross of these complex emotions herself.

"scary face?" satoru huffs, "you think daddy has a scary face?"

she drops her hands to her side swiftly, revealing her guilt and wet cheeks. she furiously shakes her head no, taking in a large inhale as she wipes her face with the back of her hands.

it makes your heart ache watching her try to comprehend the weight of her small feelings.

"nu-uh," she reassures, "but-but sometimes..."

satoru kisses her plush cheek three times over to interrupt her eyes, "I am not mad at you, mochi," he consoles, "just promise you won't do it again."

"pinky swear!" she yelps as she searches for his long, slender digits. the relief brings the color back into her face, the pale sheet of white bloomed with a tiny blush. she hooks her pinky around satoru's, the size different so prominent, before eagerly wrapping her arms around his neck. "m'sorry, papa"

"it's okay, baby," he coos as he kisses her forehead.

the scene is heartwarming, and while satoru maintained his cool, you can still read the disappointment on his face.

the pair slip away from each other's arms, your daughter picking up the broken shades as she patters her way back down the hallway to give you both some privacy.

satoru gets up, his hand clutching his chest as he turns to give you a pathetically sad expression.

"how much does it hurt?" you tease, watching him drag his feet back to you.

you grumble when he collapses into your chest, burying his nose into your neck as he wraps his strong arms around your waist.

"this is the worst heartbreak of my life," he groans obnoxiously, and you raise your own brows in surprise.

"I thought our break up was the worst heartbreak you’ve experienced," you chide, twirling the strands of his soft hair between your fingers.

"seriously? you want to bring that up now? while I'm in mourning?"

you giggle when he sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh of your neck, nipping at your skin tenderly before exhaling with sorrow.

"ugh, she's got me wrapped around her fingers like taffy," he moans like he can’t believe his own defeat, "did you see her face? how can I even get mad?"

"I know, my love," you coo, consoling your own crybaby.

Minutes pass in silence before satoru finally ponders that, "maybe, I can find another pair online or something-"

"papa!" your daughter chirps, interrupting the moment as quickly as she graced it.

satoru untangles himself from your embrace, sitting upright to see her pigtails bouncing as she scampers towards you both. her steps hit the ground fast. he doesn't even have a chance to answer before she climbs on his lap, her eyes still a little glossy from shedding her tears. she wipes away the rogue strands of feathery hairs that stuck to her temple, before showing off what's in her hand.

"I fixed it for you," she beams, her face hopeful and optimistic.

Satoru picks up the glasses from between her fingers, noticing that she had used one of her washy tapes to stick the bridge back together.

It was blue, and had little ducks on it.

You can feel an eruption of laughter bubbling in your chest, but pure love bleeds through Satoru's eyes, completely moved by her gesture.

"Aww, mochi," he gently replies, tracing his thumb over the tape.

He arches forward to kiss her nose, while she seeks another embrace between mumbling into his ear that she loves him.

You simply melt by their side.

Satoru doesn't wear the glasses anymore, but he still keeps them. Bringing them out every once in a while to show his daughter that he still loves them.

Even though they sit quite lopsided on his handsome face.

[requests are closed]

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere uramichi punishing his fem darling who tried to escape with pleasure?

"God, look at you baby. Dripping all over the bed and I haven't even done anything yet" He says in awe, watching how his fingers drip with your juices, all while you're unable to even hide your face, hands tied to the side of the bed as you struggle to catch your breath.

"Honestly, with how wet you are, I'd think you did that stunt on purpose. Is that it? You just like me riled up because you know what I'm capable of doing to you?"

His voice is sickly sweet, his lips sucking obscenely on his fingers that were just inside you, groaning deep in his throat as he slides between your forced open legs, cuffed to the end posts of the large bed.

His thumbs come to hold your swollen pussy lips open, his expression that of admiration and contemplation, wondering just how much of a mess he can you.

You're so cute when you yelp at the way he plays with your stiff clit, and when you shake and try to apologize, he just can't help but smile. You knew the consequences! Why are you acting like this is all a big surprise? Surely you have to be doing this on purpose!

The rose toy he got earlier that week, would that be good to try? Your toes curl and your voice goes hoarse when he gets a little carried away, and well, this isn't exactly supposed to be easy on you.

You wince, feet trying to firmly plant on the mattress as the toy vibrates and suctions right on your clit, your nerves set alight as you writhe and try to both get away and grind down harder.

"There you go again, acting like you don't love how I treat you. Honestly, you could use some acting classes" He says, deadpanned but not at all bored. He presses the toy down harder, sliding his fingers inside of your clenching and fluttering walls while you sob, wrists yanking in the bindings as the toy relentlessly sucks and makes your muscles taut.

Those pianist fingers only make it worse, the pleasure so intense it drives you up a wall. You didn't even have the cognitive ability to plead with him, it was useless anyhow, but this was making even thinking difficult. Without a warning, that cord in your stomach just snaps. And the mess that leaves you and your mouth makes you want to curl up and die.

Uramichi just latches his mouth to your pussy, sucking and drinking you in, firm hands holding you up by your ass as he takes every bit he can get. It's almost cute how easy it is to make you squirt. His cute sensitive little co-star.

"There we go, let it all out baby. See? It's so easy for you to be good for me like this! It's making me wonder why I let you be untied in the first place" He says aloud, dragging his thumbs up and down your swollen vulva as you sniffle and try to form any semblance of an apology.

It's useless. You know it is. But the panic doesn't stop your mouth from moving and speaking words that fall on deaf ears.

His fingers slide back inside, his demeanor changing as his palm presses against your abused and sore clit, fingers pumping and curling at a punishing, brutal pace.

"You're not fuckin sorry. Not yet. One orgasm? Please. I'll make you sorry. Make you cum again and again and again while you gasp and writhe, and beg me. Don't care if you pass out. Don't care if it hurts. You tried to leave. You have no one to blame but yourself."

The way he fingers you, deep and demanding, you can only openly sob as more wetness drips down to your ass. It's wet, sticky, the noises only make you feel more shame as the man comes to suck on your nipples, biting and tugging them aggressively as he works you into another orgasm, the pain mixing with the pleasure only making your brain all the more foggy and broken.

Two orgasms in and you're already sobbing? Goodness, you really know how to put on theatrics! But if you didn't want this you wouldn't be so fucking wet, taking everything he gives you, sucking his fingers in for more. Does he look stupid?

You wanted this.

"Look at you, creaming all over my hand, spraying like a faucet. I give you what you need, don't I? Make that nasty ache go away and give your little pussy what it needs. I can play you like an instrument, anyway I like" He grins, wild and manic as he grinds his palm against your spasming clit, only making you spill into yet another overstimulated orgasm.

You don't even get to call his name or take a breath before he reaches for the rose toy again, holding it in front of his face with a shit eating grin.

"I think you, the toy and I are going to be well acquainted by the end of this. Then once you're all nice and worn out for me, I can unwind by kissing it all better."

(Please god let there be no typos I haven't slept. Anyway I hope you enjoyed!!! -Mommabean )

[tashid4]

Ghostface Sero

This one is really smutty so TW‼️‼️

October 31th. It was your last year at UA and everyone was reunited in the dorm. You all decided to organise an Halloween party. At first, it was supposed to be only your class, 20 people. But over the hours a lot of people decided to join. Now there was at least 50 people dancing in the common room.

You were dancing with your friends, having the time of your life. You were just happy to be with your girls, hyping each other and laughing. It was the middle of the night but you weren't tired at all, you could dance for 10 more hours. Adrenaline coursing through your veins.

At some point you went to grab another drink but after that you couldn't find your friends anymore. Alone in the middle of the crowd. The party was in full swing. You were in full panic. You didn't bring your phone, you had no way to get to them.

That is when you saw him, staring at you from afar. Ghostface. The mask. He was dressed in full black : black pants, black tank top, black shoes and of course the black mask. You felt like he was staring through your soul.

Your eyes locked on him. Getting closer to you. Pushing people around to get to you. Alone surrounded by strangers you felt vulnerable but it was exciting to find out who was hiding behind the mask. He managed to get to you, now that he was close you noticed how tall he really was, towering over you by several feet. Still looking at him, your heart start to pound out of your chest.

"So you got a boyfriend ?" he asked with a familiar voice. It was deep and smooth. Spicy and sweet. Sharp and sugary. You liked it. "Not at all" "Good"

You smiled widely as he grabbed your waist.

"Fuck don't stop" he's been pounding into you for so long now that you couldn't even tell if it was still dark outside or if the sun had risen. His hips rocking against yours. Slapping your skin so good. It was probably red now.

"You like it when I fuck you like this baby" you were a moaning mess, unable to form a correct sentence. Your only response was a loud moan and your pussy squeezing him more. "Such a slut, letting a stranger put his dick in you. Bet you've fantasized about this"

And you actually did. Having a complete stranger ruin you with a mask was at the top of your list. It was one of your darkest secret. The only person you told this was your best friend Sero. He's been your friend since you entered the school, always sticking together. He was the one getting you back on your feet after every single one of your breakups. Wipping away your tears.

Now here he was, secretlly making you cry with pleasure. He was tired of all these guys, breaking your heart, he could take such good care of you. He knew it. Why couldn't you know that too?

"You're so pretty like this" he pulled your hair, making you let out a scream of surprise. "That's it scream for me, let everyone know how good I'm fucking you right now"

He turned you over on the bed and placed your legs on his shoulder. His thumb was drawing circles on your clit. It was so much you couldn't handle it. You were seeing stars now, incoherent thoughts forming in your head. Your name ? Don't remember it. The only thing you could focus on was the delicious feeling of his dick inside of you. Your eyes couldn't stay open, the pleasure was hitting you so harshly. "I want you to fucking look at me." He was being so mean but you honestly found him even sexier like this. Being treated like a bitch was making you so wet.

"Look at me" You wanted to but it was too hard. You were overwhelmed by all the stimulation. Suddenly, he stopped all of his movements. He grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear. "You don't wanna look at me baby? I guess I'll have to teach you a good lesson."

He got dressed and left with your panties. Closing the door, leaving you alone and naked. You were still trying to process what just happened. Did he really left you here, on the verge of your orgasm ?

Part 2 ????

[a-hazbin-reader]

Okay we also see Alastor go ham and how wifey swoons over him but now what if wifey let lose, like someone threatens him or the hotel and before anyone could react she dashes forward killing them brutally and mercilessly?

🥵

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Violence, Blood, Wifey is crazy, Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

Not many people know that Alastor's wife is a badass, mostly because you're content to watch and support your husband on the sidelines

But that doesn't mean you aren't your own kind of terrifying, you're a bad bitch and that's how you pulled your husband

He knows you can take care of yourself and loves it when you put someone in their place, he even likes it when you put him in his place 😏

Everyone is so used to Alastor protecting you that they never consider what you're capable of, your husband is just being a gentleman

But Alastor knows this and looks forward to the times you want to handle things yourself

Someone is harassing you on the street? Being crude and disgusting to you because they assume you're just some random dame?

Your husband simply looks at you to see if you want him to handle it or not, he would love to teach this punk a lesson for you

But he gets excited when you shake your head and start taking off your jewelry, holding his hand out to hold it for you

"Oh? Do come back dirty for me, I'll lick you clean~"

"Promise?"

He just watches you pummel the street urchin with a satisfied smile on his face, letting out a lovesick sigh at the sound of your victim's screams

"Isn't she a vision, Husker? Look at the way the blood drips down her body~ Absolute poetry in motion~"

Husk just sighs and chugs a bottle of booze, already so done with the two of you

"Yeah, uh, she's really somethin'..."

Alastor lets out a happy hum and turns back to watch you, completely enamored by the sight of you

"She really is~"

You try to help your husband in a fight? Well suddenly its just you figuring because Alastor stops to watch the show

"Alastor, aren't you going to help her..?"

He almost doesn't hear Charlie speaking to him, a cloud of hearts practically fluttering around him as he stares at you, frozen in place

"And deprive myself of this beautiful sight? Now, that would be a true sin... Look to your left, my dear!"

He actually has to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his blush when you spin around and impale them, blowing your husband a kiss

"Thank you, darling~"

His tail is wiggling with happiness, dramatically catching the kiss and keeping it close to his heart

Charlie thinks at some point she hears him whistling at you but she doesn't want to look and confirm

Or when someone tries to hurt your family, Alastor has seen you lose your shit because you caught someone trying to assassinate him

One moment, he's relaxed and snuggling with his darling wife and the next, he hears a crash and sees you throwing the attacker across the room

And he'll be damned if he doesn't say that it does something to him to see you like that

You're practically feral as you tear apart the screaming demon, a blinding rage taking you over

"How dare you come into MY HOME! Try to hurt MY HUSBAND!"

Alastor is nearly blushing, flustered and pulling on his collar as he watches you defend him like he's some helpless little demon

"Darling, you sure do know how to make your husband hot under the collar, don't you~?"

He catches one of your hands mid strike and takes you out of your rage, unable to stop himself from kissing your blood covered face

He can't help it, seeing you so angry and violent reminds him of when he first met you-

The would-be-attacker is still alive, a weak hand coming up to grab at your ankle when you suddenly use your own powers to finish him off

You're too busy being kissed and fondled by your husband to devote any more attention to them

He hoists you up suddenly, your legs wrapping around him as he steps over the body of your victim, leaving the room to take you upstairs instead

He nuzzles his face against your neck, distracting you from glaring at the corpse in the other room

"Do you think you could toss me like that, darling?"

"Alastor~!"

Wifey is just a doll 😍

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 4 — BODY WORSHIP

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — dr ratio, gallagher

— warnings. — fem! reader, body worship, fingering, constant praising <3 mating press

⚝ — DR RATIO

dr. ratio’s hands were careful, like a sculptor admiring his finest work, tracing the contours of your body with a clinical precision that gradually gives way to admiration— and his gaze moves over you with a power that makes you feel like the most exquisite specimen, every inch of your skin holding his full attention.

"perfection," the man glances down to your spread legs with your folds being on full display, the color in his tone rural, as though he’s cataloging every detail in his mind. his fingers glide between your folds, your glistening slit, before trailing up to your clit, taking in the softness of your pussy like he’s memorizing the map of your body.

veritas takes his time, always, touching you as though each movement holds the weight of discovery, as though you’re the answer to a question he’s been trying to solve his entire life.

"you have no idea how perfect you are, do you?" he whispers inserts a finger and wiggles it around— the sloppy, wet noises your pussy was making only added to the aching pain in his cock.

he admires the way your muscles constrict around a single finger, how he shifts inside your skin and curls his digit, the smooth lines of your wall being slippery and so hot.

his lips brush over your collarbone as he inserts a second finger, then lower as he groans softly. "i could study you for hours… every inch of you is a masterpiece," his hips begin to grinf into the mattress as he toys with your pussy, stuffing you with two digits and scissoring them inside your drenched insides before taking a tit in his mouth.

one good suckle sent you up against the wall and he sees it— more precisely it's your teeth dug into your lower lip and your fingers digging into his shoulders as your toes curl into the blankets, mind fuzzy with being so loved, so cherished and appreciated by the man you so desperately desired.

⚝ — GALLAGHER

gallagher had a way of being more on the direct side— if you catch my drill, unable to hide the awe in his gaze as his eyes roam across your form.

"damn, look at you," he breathes and smirks, the lust in his demeanor exuding the most intoxicating energy. his hands move immediately to your side, fingers tracing every curve, every line, like he’s trying to commit it all to memory, afraid he might miss something and needs to do it again— maybe then he should use his mouth to kiss every curve of your flesh.

there's a hunger in his eyes you were instantly deciphering, a hidden force to show just how much he adores every inch of you.

"you're… perfect," he brushes over your cheek.

gallagher tilts his head, eyes lingering on the smooth expanse of your stomach before his fingers side down to your thighs, making you wrap them around his waist.

his grip tenses slightly, his thumbs brushing the curve of your hips with an almost possessive severity as his cock stood erected and proudly between your folds.

"i don’t think you understand how beautiful you are," he takes his length before playfully slapping his tip against your pussy— once, twice, leaning down to press his lips to your shoulder as he opts to slide himself inside.

"fuck, ugh—always so tight," he rasps and rolls his eyes, biting into his lower lip to prevent his groan from coming out too loud as your hands find refuge in his disheveled hair, holding him in place.

his hips move forward with a deep rut, sliding in sloppily now while barely maintaining an even form— although that doesn't stop gallagher to fling your legs over his shoulders and press your thighs against your stomach to make you real tight for him, real messy and ugh, the view must be the most beautiful to him.

your face with tears bedding your lashes, your pouty lips being all bitten and pulsing, your pussy spread apart and fighting to keep him in as you squeeze and squeeze and squeeze him so dearly he notices a heart beat down there— while the sound of your juices were too distracting as well, gallagher might just need to take a taste of it first.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[nonushu]

hugs in secret - yoon jeonghan

genre: fluff, secret relationship | wc: 670 | warnings: mentions of being drunk? | secret bf!jeonghan x reader a/n: i love long-haired jeonghan BUT short-haired jeonghan... oh my lord... this is also a bit rushed, hopefully, it's not too noticeable!

whoever gave soonyoung the mic, he sure as hell isn't singing. instead, he's shouting at seungkwan through the booming speakers for whatever reason that there may be—most likely about something petty.

if you were drunk too, you'd be just as indulged as they were. but someone is making it hard to even care what's going on in the karaoke room. and if anyone else in the room was sober, they'd be able to see the literal hearts in his eyes.

jeonghan sits across from you, grinning as the lively scene of the two other men unfolds. no matter how much you motion for him to stop looking at you like he is, his stare somehow makes you feel more shy.

of course, jeonghan knows exactly what he's doing. he doesn't miss the subtle nervousness you try to hide from the others—if anything, he's enjoying the thrill of anyone who could become suspecting of the two of you.

you can feel his eyes on you as you get up when you decide it's time to leave. you take a breath before walking over to the food bar where you pack some leftovers for the next day.

jeonghan raises his brow at your sudden leave, rising from his seat to follow from behind.

"leaving so soon?" his voice soft, almost teasing.

you glance over your shoulder, snapping the lid on the container. "well, i have to go in early tomorrow. can't be too exhausted."

"but you're gonna miss the most memorable part of this," he chuckles, referring to soonyoung and seungkwan dispute.

you scoff, shaking your head. "and then, i'll miss my hearing if i stay any longer,"

jeonghan's lips crack a smile as he leans in closer to you. his hands find their way to the small of your back. he pulls you gently towards him in a comforting manner but enough to make your breath hitch.

"jeonghan," you whisper, eyes darting around the room but doing nothing to stop him. "someone might see..."

but you know no one's paying attention to what you and jeonghan are doing, yet the thought of confrontation at the moment did not sound fun while everyone was wasted.

"you're really gonna leave me?" he pouts, putting his chin on your shoulder. "leave me here with our drunk friends?"

your eyes sided at jeonghan. "you can leave too, hannie,"

"well, someone has to drive them home," he whines, nuzzling closer.

you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile that tugs at your lips. "well, aren't you such a good friend?"

"yeah..." he mumbles, arms now fully wrapped around you. "am i able to see you after work, though?"

you tilt your head to look up at jeonghan, returning the hug. "could you come over to my place as well?"

jeonghan's grin is boyish, his eyes lighting up. "it'd be my pleasure, angel,"

you sort of cringed at the nickname, but regardless, you loved it when he called you such. removing yourself from his arms, you head to the exit while giving him a playful smile. "see you then, jeonghan,"

before stepping out of the room, you feel a grip on your arm, slightly pulling you back. jeonghan stops you from exiting completely, still wanting you to stay with him longer.

with a low voice, he bends down to your level. "just one more hug before you leave?" his eyes are begging. "please?"

now you grin at jeonghan. "clingy, much?" but you embrace him anyway, hugging him closely.

his tone becomes sassy, yet he gives in. "yeah, well, you make it impossible to not be,"

the moment couldn't feel more perfect, but soonyoung's voice cuts through the air—through the very loud speakers, startling the both of you. "group hug!"

before you know it, soonyoung has his arms wrapped around the two of you, squeezing your bodies tight. you couldn't help but laugh while being squashed between the two men. jeonghan groans at him, but his grip on you doesn't loosen.

jeonghan must really love hugging you, you figured.