#sleepy nix

[chronicallytirednixon]

SLEEPY NIX GIFSETTTT

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

[keeps-ache]

call me, i'm gonna yap your ear off

[urmomsfavelesbian]

🥹 shoutout to my euro bestie moot lina @snowflakenali for easing my genuinely debilitating fomo by not only getting me uk dragcon merch, but also mentioning me to daya who 😭 remembered me by name and Lit Up upon talking about me 😭, AND got a video of willow talking to me and saying my name and saying she’ll see me in april 😭 some public appreciation was necessary for dealing with paypal and crazy lines and for the soon to be hell of international shipping 🥹 and shoutout to my self proclaimed accountant jess @polychromeedge for Also helping me deal with the hell of paypal and always counseling me through my fomo and ridiculous levels of daya induced mental illness and getting excited for me to wake up and see images 🥰 and shoutout to my big sister ashie @dayabot for freaking out about dayasco with me 24/7 for days now and writing endless winding concepts about the vamp wives and coordinating posts with me and letting me send willow n boscy performance videos and endlessly enabling my terminal levels of boscobrain. and an overall shoutout to the gay community and dayasluts working together 😌

[cllynnarts]

Another box acquired!

[nixsmis]

for Reven, from 2019, but of my own character

[godzexperiment]

nix only likes the creme part of o.reos (he will eat the cookies/them whole but most times his brain just goes 'scrape the insides off with your teeth into your mouth' mode)

[volnixian]

everyone say "thank you drafts" for drafts keeping my posts until i can think coherently

[navybrat817]

Ladies and Gentlemen

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: Bucky reflects on you and your date the morning after. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Tension, flirting, brief moments of insecurity, implied sexy times, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. Previous Part of AU: Technically Innocent and Sinful, but posted part is Sundresses and Leather A/N: A bit more Hottie and Sugar from our Sin on Skin AU and you voted to go to his place! ❤️ I realize that I've skipped over Innocent and Sinful for now, but I really wanted to showcase Bucky and his feelings regarding the date and you. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky hummed to himself as he made breakfast, doing his best to move quietly around the kitchen. He normally only hummed along to the radio in his car, which you discovered during your date the night before, but he couldn’t help himself today. He was happy. He had a spring in his step he hadn’t realized was missing.

Turns out, the thing he was missing was you.

“So. My place or yours?”

Tiptoeing back to his bedroom, Bucky saw you asleep peacefully in his bed. It was a sight he could get used to. Your gentle breathing and serene expression brought a small smile to his face as he leaned against the doorframe. When he woke up earlier with you in his arms he feared for a moment that he was dreaming again, like he had in his shop. But when he placed a kiss on your forehead and received a sleepy moan in response, he knew it was real.

So was the night before.

Bucky held back a groan as some of the images of the two of you together replayed in his mind, his eyes closing and only serving to enhance what he was already thinking about. He wanted to be a gentleman to you. He tried. After your last prick of a boyfriend, you sure as hell deserved that. Which was one of the reasons he was making you breakfast, as tempted as he was to climb back in bed and wake you.

Told you I’d take care of you, Sugar.

You opened up to and for him so beautifully. You were nothing short of an angel. His angel. His Sugar. It was crazy to think like that after one date, but there was something there and that was before he took you out. And you already planned what the next two dates would be, which he was looking forward to.

Even if our first date didn’t go as planned.

It turned out for the best. Even better than he could’ve imagined. He refrained from leaving a negative review online at that restaurant for mixing up his reservation, which was a blessing in disguise. The place was far from his style, but he saw it as a chance to impress you when his other plans fell through. He should’ve known better and gone with his instinct to take you to a place like Antonia’s from the start.

The smile slipped from his face as he remembered you talking about your mom, his fists lightly clenching. If he ever had the chance to meet her, he’d have a hard time staying silent about how she treated you. As if you sensed the sudden tension rise within him, you shifted closer to his side of the bed and rubbed the spot with your hand. The sight soothed him. For you to tell him something so vulnerable, to trust him, gave him a glimpse of how strong you truly were. Because it took strength to open up and stay kind when others tried to knock you down.

I’ll catch you.

Silently dashing back to the kitchen so he didn’t burn anything on the stove, he pushed the thought of your mom out of his mind as he finished up. He wasn’t going to focus on the negatives today. Not when he had you at his place. Maybe he could convince you to stick around for a bit after breakfast if you didn’t have plans.

Before he had a chance to wake you, someone knocked three times on the front door.

Steve.

He wondered if the noise woke you as he glanced down the hall, but he didn’t hear any movement as he headed toward the door and yanked it open before Steve could knock again. Sure enough, his best friend had his fist closed and ready. “Not dressed?” he asked as he lowered his arm.

With a shrug, Bucky glanced down at himself. “I’m wearing sweatpants,” he said, which he only put on to cook for you. “What are you doing here? It’s my day off.”

“Is that how you greet your best friend, jerk? After I came all the way over here?” He asked, looking back and forth as he pushed his way inside. “You weren’t answering your phone and you usually don’t sleep this late.”

“Come on in, punk. And don’t act like you drove across town to see me. We live in the same building,” Bucky said sarcastically as he shut the door. “So because I didn’t answer my phone on my day off, you decided to come over? Really? You’re spying, which you’re terrible at because you’re a terrible liar.”

The blonde pushed his hair back as his gaze swept the apartment. “I’m not spying, but come on. You have to tell me something. Jake and Hal won’t shut up in the group chat. Even Andy asked about your date and you’ve ignored everyone,” he argued, following Bucky to the kitchen.

Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to feel annoyed at Steve showing up or at the rest of the guys for wanting to know how the night went. They looked out for and supported each other. The fact that they all liked you made them root for the two of you more. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you guys,” he said, not saying he didn’t answer anyone since he was preoccupied with you.

“So, how did it go?” Steve asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Perfect because it was with Sugar.

“Minus getting rained on and the restaurant screwing up the reservation, just fine,” he said, giving a quick rundown of some of the details. He left out the heart-to-heart conversation in your bakery. Steve was his best friend, but that wasn’t any of his business.

“It didn’t go the way you wanted to, but it was ‘just fine’? Judging by that smile on your face, I take it the date went well,” Steve said.

Very well.

Bucky managed not to smirk as he set out two coffee mugs. “A gentleman never tells. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of my apartment. My breakfast is getting cold.”

“I know you have an appetite, but this much food?” Steve said, nodding to the two plates. “Considering I showed up unannounced and you already had two plates out, I’m guessing you weren’t planning on feeding me.”

“Mmm. Something smells delicious. Oh! Hi, Steve.”

Bucky sucked in a breath when he turned his head and drank in the sight of you. You had a sleepy expression on your face, which was adorable, but it was the fact that you were wearing one of his shirts that made his heart stop in his chest. You toyed with the hem as you smiled, your gaze on him and not on Steve. He wondered if it would be too much to ask you to wear one of his shirts while you worked in the bakery.

I can have a dress made out of one of my shirts, right?

“Good to see you.” Steve smirked before he looked at his friend. “A gentleman never tells, huh?”

Bucky allowed himself to smirk this time. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Oh, he’s very much a gentleman,” you said as you joined Bucky and slid an arm around his waist. His arm instinctively went around your back, his fingers gently touching you through the fabric. “He’s also a sorcerer. Or maybe a magician. I’m not sure which.”

Steve’s brows furrowed as he glanced at Bucky. “You’re a what?”

“Well,” you said slowly, biting your lip before you looked at Bucky. “There’s this magical thing he does with his tongue where-”

The blonde held a hand up to stop you. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

Yeah, because my cue of telling you to leave wasn’t enough, Punk. Now go so I can do that thing with my tongue again.

“Told you a gentleman never tells,” Bucky stated, pulling you closer by the waist. It amazed him how perfectly you two fit together. “I never said anything about my girl speaking.”

Your eyes lit up at the small endearment, making his heart race. “Should I tell him about your massive-”

“Text me later!” Steve said, giving you a small smile before he quickly showed himself out.

Bucky chuckled when the door shut. “Don’t let his modest act fool you. He’s far from innocent,” he joked. Steve respected women though.

“I think he was trying to act like a gentleman for my sake,” you teased. “And if Tess knew where you lived, she probably would’ve shown up, too.”

With a chuckle, he nodded in agreement. “How’d you sleep? I would’ve stayed in bed with you, but I wanted to make you breakfast.”

Are you sore? Do I need to take care of you?

“I slept very well, thank you. And breakfast in bed sounds like the perfect way to start the day,” you said, touching his cheek. He could stay wrapped up in bed with you all day if you'd let him. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Best night of sleep I’ve had since I can remember,” he answered honestly, his eyes soft as a full blown smile spread across your face.

You leaned in to brush your lips against his before you stopped yourself, some of the light fading from your eyes. “Sorry. I haven’t brushed my teeth and my breath probably stinks-”

Bucky closed the gap to kiss your lips. He didn’t care if you brushed your teeth or not. “Taste sweet to me, Sugar,” he whispered, taking possession of your mouth again to leave you breathless. He wanted to taste every part of you and sweep away any insecurities or doubts that tried to take over.

You pulled away to take a breath. “Keep kissing me like that and I won’t eat this breakfast you worked so hard on.”

“Did you purposely say ‘hard on’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “And I don’t mind feeding you my-”

You covered his mouth with your hand, giggling. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say.”

He licked his lips when you moved your hand away. “I was going to say I don’t mind feeding you my food,” he told you with a blank expression since he couldn’t feign innocence. “You’re a dirty girl for jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m not a dirty girl. I’m a lady,” you protested, inhaling sharply as he began to back you up against the counter.

“You look good in my shirt. Really good,” he said, his voice gravelly and low as he flexed his fingers on your hips. “Tell me to stop, Sugar. I already wore you out once and you need to eat so you have your strength.”

Because I want to ruin you all over again.

“So I have my strength? You sure I didn’t wear you out, Hottie?” You questioned.

He found himself laughing as you tilted your chin up. Not at you. Never at you. No, it was that happiness creeping back in at how the two of you fell in sync. The banter, the ease. He wished you could see yourself through his eyes and feel what he did.

He’d continue to find ways to show you how special you were.

“How about we agree that we wore each other out? I think that’s what happened.”

You gave him a single nod. “Looking forward to us wearing each other out again.”

Me, too, Sugar. Me, too.

He's a dream, isn't he? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[eggyrocks]

inked part nine -> breakfast

masterlist

album playing in the flower shop: psychopomp by japanese breakfast

It's raining when she wakes up, in a bed that's not hers. She can hear it settle against the pavement outside, repetitive and constant. Kiyoko's beside her. It takes her a few moments to register that fact. Kiyoko is beside her, shining in the dull natural light that pours in through her window.

Kiyoko yawns as she awakens, and she can't help put reach across to her face and tuck a strand of her black hair behind her ear as her eyes blink open. "Good morning," she says, voice heavy with the sleep in it. Kiyoko smiles, like she can't help it, and in turn, she can't help but smile back.

"Good morning," she repeats back, and she can hear just how giddy she sounds. "You look pretty in the mornings."

Kiyoko blushes, an immediate rush of red flushing her cheeks. She buries her face in the pillow below her. "Stop, I probably look like a mess right now."

She laughs, and her hand once again finds its way to her hair, brushing it back, fingers raking through it. "If this is you looking like a mess, I might go into cardiac arrest once you get all cleaned up."

Kiyoko lifts her head to look up at her, a flush still to her cheeks. "Is it pathetic for me to make you breakfast?"

"Just be prepared, I think if you make me breakfast, I probably won't ever want to leave."

At once, Kiyoko sits up. "Let me get started then," she says, and then almost hesitantly, she leans forward and places a soft kiss on her lips.

And before Kiyoko can pull away, she reaches a hand up and slides it behind her neck, pulling her in deeper, for just a second. Because now that she's had a little of her, she wants all of her.

-> fun facts!

kiyoko and yn sat on her couch for like an hour slowly eating breakfast and watching love island

this chapter is super short bc writing is hard for me rn for some reason & i promised an update two days ago do not be mad at me lol

kiyoko was lwky anticipating yn to ask her to be her girlfriend all morning and she never did

kuroo’s still mad abt the tattoo from the night before he and yn are still beefing

well more like a one sided beef bc yn genuinely does not gaf abt anything that’s not kiyoko rn

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @frootloopscos @astennu @cr4yolaas @cannibalsrider @bluemingqueen @ekeio @ahdbodhr @afunkyfreshblog @tartfrappe @bitchysuna @iluv-ace @ujisworld @karasyuu @osakis-gf @kitnootkat @acowboykisser @le4vingt0nite @neuviloved @nix-appples @nbcvs @bemebiu @sleepy-time @kennylovesberries @guitarstringed-scars

[stvharrngton]

hey! can u do 12 and 49 for the prompts if you're still doing them? with steve of course!! thank u <3

tysm for requesting!! i hope i got the right prompts cause i literally counted the list like 5 times kshfjsks but i hope you enjoy!! <3

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, shower sex, heavy petting, steve and reader are a little goofy

prompts: "i won't bite. unless you're into that sort of thing." and "and where do you think you're going?" from this list (x)

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

Beams of yellow and gold peaked through the curtains as you stirred awake, Steve snoring softly behind you. Your neck lay on his bicep as his face was tucked softly into your shoulder. His other was draped across your stomach, his hand splayed across your skin beneath your shirt.

You stretched your limbs underneath the sheets, a soft groan rumbling in your throat as sleep still racked your body. He shifted behind you, his large hand tightening on your stomach, lips smattering soft kisses along your shoulder and back.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he hummed, voice rough and gravelly, still laced with slumber.

“Morning, handsome,” you replied, eyes still firmly closed shut. You reached behind you to card your fingers through his hair, soft brown tresses silky smooth between your fingers.

You treasured these moments with Steve. Early mornings shared together before either of you had to go to work, lay ins on Sundays when you set no alarms. You loved to just lie in each other’s arms, hands wandering, legs tangled together beneath the sheets.

Unfortunately, this was not one of those mornings.

Glancing over at the red numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand, you sighed. You really needed to get up and get moving, no matter how badly you wanted to stay wrapped up with Steve.

You managed to free yourself from his grip as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, ready to make your way towards the bathroom.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Steve whined, hands outstretching to grab at you.

“For a shower.” you stated, your eyes rows raised just a tad. A playful smile threatening to tug at your lips.

“Without me?” 

Steve was a picture as he said it. Sprawled out in the mass of sheets, hair a floppy mess on his head. Pink lips formed in a pretty pout. How you ached to climb back into bed with him but you really had to get ready.

“You’re such a boy, Steve,” you chortled, finally making your way into the en-suite. You turned the shower on, letting the water heat up.

He grunted as he rolled back over onto his stomach, head laying soundly on his crossed arms on the pillow.

“Well, are you coming or not?” you asked, appearing in the doorway once more, hands on your hips in Steve’s signature pose. He responded with a sleepy Hmm? as he rolled back over, eyes fluttering up at you.

“I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” You said with a shrug as his attention was fully on you now. Eyes wide with a grin on his face, carefully watching as you lifted your sleep shirt up and off your body, revealing your tits to the boy still in bed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m coming, shit—“ Steve stumbled out of bed, doing his best to rid himself of his boxers on his way to the bathroom. “C’mere, you,” Steve cooed, fingers wrapping around your wrist, spinning you into his arms.

His large palms delved beneath your panties, hands squeezing at your ass beneath the material. You braced yourself against his chest, rough ringlets of hair scratching at your palms.

“I am, by the way,” he breathed as his lips came only millimeters away from yours, “into that sort of thing, I mean.”

You huffed out a laugh, your arms slung over his shoulders now, “You’re such a dork,” you whispered as your lips brushed against one another in a kiss.

He pulled you closer, if that was even possible, his fingers still kneading at the doughy flesh of your ass, the kiss getting more heated by the second.

Steve was handsy and you loved it. He loved to always have his hands on you in some way, loved to pinch and squeeze, to caress and grope. 

Your panties slowly made their way to the floor as you stepped out of them, leading Steve into the warmth of the shower. His hands never left you, lingering on your waist as he pecked your lips over and over, in quick succession.

You hummed as the warm droplets of water covered both your bodies, Steve’s hands slippery as they wandered up and down your skin. “I do actually have to shower, Steve,” you breathed against his lips.

You felt him smirk into your kiss as he replied, “I know.”

Steve reached behind you for your favourite body wash, with scents of grapefruit and ginger, squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand. You watched through your wet lashes as Steve lathered the soap between his hands before starting at your shoulders, massaging the scrub into your skin.

Your eyes fluttered closed as Steve dug his fingers and palms into you so delicately, a sweet little sigh leaving your lips. His hands travelled to your chest, fingers tracing over your tits, your pert buds erecting at his featherlight touch. Steve lathered the body wash into your soft skin, large palms groping and cupping your breasts, the boy’s gaze fixated on how soapy and wet your tits looked.

“Such pretty tits, baby,” Steve groaned, as he squeezed them together, letting them bounce free. His fingers found your nipples, finger and thumb squeezing at the sensitive peaks, causing a moan to erupt from you.

“Steve,” you whimpered, hands bracing themselves on his broad shoulders, your thighs clenching beneath you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, hands still firmly on your chest as he leant into you, lips brushing against yours softly. Steve kissed you all pretty, tongue swiping along your bottom lip as he licked into you. 

Not bothering to wash the soap from your body, his hands wandered to your thighs, large palms hooking underneath as he urged you to jump. Steve held you to him, your ankles crossed at the small of his back as he pressed you against the glass of the shower.

You exhaled a groan as Steve moved his lips to your neck, sloppy kisses pressed against the skin there. You felt his stiffening cock press between your bodies, electricity rolling throughout you at the feeling of his lips on your skin, his fingers pressing into your doughy thighs.

Steve reached between you, his fingers travelling to your core. They pressed at your entrance, middle and pointer finger teasing your hole, eventually pushing inside. You whimpered as your head rolled back against the glass, Steve’s fingers scissoring and pumping in and out of your pussy.

He hummed against your skin, wet lips teasing as they enveloped your ear lobe, nibbling and sucking. You breathed out a ‘please’, a pathetic whine as your lips formed in a pout, pleading with Steve to give you something more.

“Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled, hushing you softly, “easy tiger.” His fingers wrapped around his cock now, wrist pumping a few times as he pressed the tip against your entrance, pushing into your wet hole ever so slowly.

The whimper that tumbled past your lips was music to Steve’s ears, loving how the stretch of his cock inside your cunt got you to make that noise, every damn time. His lips tugged upwards as he pushed in further, his jaw going slack as he made it halfway

“That’s it, baby, there you go,” Steve cooed, praise oozing off his tongue. His hand returning to your thigh, a gentle squeeze to your flesh, a subtle way of checking on you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving little crescent marks in their wake as you urged the boy to move. Steve began slowly, torturously so. Thick cock fucking in and out of your heat at a relaxed pace, the protruding veins pulsing against your wet walls.

“Steve, fuck–,” you moaned out, the sound bouncing off the glass along with the water continuing to blast from the shower head. The rivulets dousing your bodies, skin hot and slippery as you melted into one another.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Steve breathed, sopping wet hair flat against his forehead, cock aching within you, “taking my cock so well, s’like you were made for me, huh?”

Steve’s voice was syrupy sweet, full of saccharine with just a hint of a condescending tone. The boy loved how easy it was to get you like this, to get you whimpering and breathless. He knew exactly what buttons to push, exactly what parts of you to touch and kiss and usually, you would curse him for it. Until you were full up of his cock and moaning out his name, that is.

“Just for you, Stevie,” you cried as Steve picked up the pace now, hips snapping up against you.

“Good girl,” Steve moaned, the loud slap of skin on skin heard just above the sound of rushing water, the glass of the shower fully steamed up now. The boy’s cheeks were flushed pink, mouth hanging agape as his moans got louder and sharper. The way Steve was bullying his cock into your hole was sending you closer to the edge, the coil in your lower stomach wound tight.

 “Don’t know how much longer I can last, fuck,” Steve groaned, lips searching for yours as they found your jaw instead, “pussy’s too fuckin’ sweet.” 

You simply whined in response, crying out for your own climax. Your fingers found their way into Steve’s hair, tresses sopping wet as you tugged at the strands, pulling a pretty little sigh from the boy. You were so close to the end of your tether, your orgasm right around the corner as the tip of Steve’s cock brushed against your sweet spot, over and over again.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, your dainty fingers finding your puffy clit as they circled the throbbing bud harshly. Steve’s eyes followed your fingers, a lustful haze overcoming his gaze as his cock twitched inside you.

“Can you cum f’me, pretty?” he asked, desperation lingering on his voice. 

You simply nodded, fingers speeding up as Steve matched your pace with his thrusts. The both of you crying out at the pleasure that overwhelmed you as you neared your summit, white hot sparks shooting through your skin.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, come on,” Steve was yearning for it now, aching and craving the sweetness you were going to give him. 

And that’s all you needed. One more circle of your fingers, one more stroke of Steve’s cock and you were coming undone with Steve right behind you. You wailed as Steve grunted, his fingers digging into your skin harshly now, his thrusts becoming hard and messy as your juices coated his length.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groaned, hot cum filling you up as your chest heaved against his, the rough scratch of his chest hair against your tits making everything ten times more euphoric. Steve lapped up everything you gave him, his thrusts slowing but still present as he longed to fuck his cum back inside your hole for as long as he could.

The sensitivity became too much eventually, toes curling on the tiled floor of the shower as Steve let his cock fall from you. He held you against him softly before setting you down on shaky legs.

He chuckled as you wobbled, holding you up straight at your shoulders, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “I’m definitely gonna be late,” you groaned, grinning as Steve continued his assault with his lips, “and I am definitely blaming you, Harrington.”

[chronicallytirednixon]

[ayoarticulate]

tbh, all the carmy and claire scenes feel like an ill attempt at separating syd and carmy, and no i’m not meaning in a romantic pov

i think sydcarmy has reached heights that were quite unexpected and more people want that than storer et al. realized, and truthfully they maybe never wanted them together

and that’s okay, i’ve liked plenty of ships that never actually got together in the show (even tho in this case there’s plenty of evidence pointing towards the fact th- *GUN SHOT*), and i enjoyed them all the same. if they’re to remain completely platonic, alright. cool.

however, since when does that mean having to nix all contact between them as a whole? we got what… maybe two RIGHT below surface level convos between syd and carm this season? if that?? i feel like in their attempt to amp down the sydcarmy want, they completely nuked their relationship as a whole.

i know that the test of communication and understanding and all that jazz was at the heart of this season, i really do get that. but still. it absolutely does not feel like it’s moving towards something. it feels so flat and static i just cannot picture it successfully turning around

anyways… i gotta go to bed i’m sleepy yall. i’ve been posting about this for like two hours now and i don’t have much more to say (yes i do i have so much to say but my thumbs are cramping and my elbows are sore) good night the bear tumblr

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine waking up next to steve

requested by @nix-rose

The muttering of a sleepy individual perked Steve Harrington’s ears. He carefully adjusted himself in bed to face the culprit. Face relaxed. Eyes closed. Mouth gapped open – you were sound asleep, and all Steve could do was smile to his sleep deprived self. His headache from waking up on and off all night, but suddenly none of that mattered.

That is until you stirred awake and jumped back when faced with a stern look from boyfriend. His hair was a mess, but in a sexy way and he was shirtless in a sexy way.  He mustered enough strength to feign annoyance when you asked how long he had been awake.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he plopped up on his elbows and glanced down at you. “Practically the whole night.”

“What? Couldn’t sleep?”

Your concern softened his expression, but he stood his ground. “Well, when you’re sleeping next to a goddamn ice skater, it’s hard to get any sleep.”

“Excuse me?”

“You kicked me seven times in your sleep….”

Laughing, you reached for his arm and kissed it softly.  “Will you ever forgive me?”

Steve sat silent for a moment, pretending to contemplate the choice laid out before him. You stared up at him lovingly, waiting for his answer and when it took a little too long– you retaliated. Pushing him off his elbows, you reached over and started tickling him. Steve hollered, begging you to stop but also not doing much to stop you. He cackled when you tossed the comforter aside and climbed onto his lap, legs locking him into place. Fingers tickled his skin until he finally grabbed you by the wrists.

“Okay, okay,” he huffed, out of breath. Relaxing his hands on your waist, he smirked up at you. “I’ll forgive you, but…”

“…but what,” you questioned.

Steve’s eyes darkened but a smile pulled from the corner of his mouth. “I have an idea of how you can make it up to me.”

His fingers gripped at your waist, and you laughed. “Are you trying to extort sex out of me, Harrington?”

“Wow, you’re such a perv. I was just going to ask for breakfast in bed…dirty, dirty girl.” He shook his head with a whistle, and you smacked him on the chest. This made him laugh even more and he quickly pulled your body down against his. His lips met yours with a gentle embrace and he held you tight against himself, hands caressed your back up and down. He kissed you once more, before pulling away and bringing both hands to your face. Steve’s smile was sweet and careless, filled with adoration – eyes settled into settlement that promised a future.

“I love you,” he whispered, and your body went warm as it fell to his side. He engulfed you into his side and you kissed him on the chest. “…and I don’t mind sleeping next to an ice skater, if it gets to be you.”

“Damn, you are so charming,” you cooed, the two of you sharing a quiet laugh. “I love you, Steve. How about some breakfast?”

A wedding, some kids…one day but today…breakfast was enough.

“Yeah, breakfast sounds great.”

[evidenceof]

[rough] and/or [sleepy] for winnix

thank you for the prompt, cari!! <3 a little bit of both for this moment in a pup tent sponsored by sink and his reader's digest subscription. i hope u like it! more below the cut.

[ rough ] for a kiss fuelled by more than affection | [ sleepy ] for a half-awake kiss

pup tent A sharp knee collides with Nix’s shin and jostles him awake, his throat too raw to bother with a grunt of displeasure. Not that it was much of a sleep when the only thing between Nix and the piss rank mud was a pup tent. Dick is back, all tense lines and twitchy muscle. He’d want to talk about it. Nix had been watching his quiet displeasure build up ever since they watched the 3rd leave for their trains and 2nd strap on their boots to show up the Japs for Sink. Dick hadn’t even spared Nix a grimace when Sobel barked at Gordon for nearly smashing his face head first on his machine-gun on slippery mud.

“I’d ask if you’re all right but I already know the answer to that.” It comes out softer than intended, words barely clawing out of Nix’s frozen throat. A thin line of smoke trails out of Dick’s mouth as he undoes the top buttons of his ODs. The temperature is below freezing but Nix has long stopped asking about his friend’s grudge against shirts. Dick doesn’t reply until he’s horizontal beside Nix, something short of a feat in a pup tent. Their knees brush and knock when Dick’s shoulder hits the ground, landing with an odd squelch, just inches away from Nix. He wills his body to move away but his back was already flush against the drab canvas. Any farther and the entire tent would collapse and he thinks Dick might actually kill him for that.

“This is a waste of time.” Dick grumbles, and they're close enough for his breath to warm the skin between Nix’s eyebrows. A trail of gooseflesh erupts along his back and Nix tells himself it’s the cold. “Malarkey practically crawling on all fours to get to chow. Humiliating.”

“Oh, cut the man some slack, Dick. He’ll be walking on two legs, all stick straight like you soon enough.” Nix huffs out a laugh. They were both shivering, hands tucked into their armpits. Every word out felt like a goddamn chore. The crinkle of irritation on Dick’s brow made it worth it. “That not what I—“  Dick begins to say before he catches the grin on Nix’s face. For the second time that night, his knee hits Nix’s shin violently. “Ow fuck. C’mon, Dick. Let’s just sleep for chrissakes.” The fatigue weighing down on Nix’s eyelids as he watched a blurred image of Dick’s face continue to frown. “If you’re gonna keep talking, pass me a smoke, will you?” “Fine.” Dick’s hand paws for the musette bag behind him where he fishes out an unopened case of cigarettes and a lighter. He takes one between his fingers and before Nix can free his hand out of his armpit, Dick jams the stick between Nix’s lips, his palm cupping his chin, his fingers splayed across Nix’s stubble. “Sink is ridiculous.” Dick mumbles while he thumbs down on the lighter with his other hand that’s pinned to the ground, letting his left continue holding the cigarette and Nix’s face. He tries not to lean into the touch, but his eyes were so heavy and Dick’s palm was so warm. He could fall asleep just like this, let Dick’s grousing and hot hands deliver him into temporary oblivion. “They need to stop sending him copies of Reader’s Digest if it leads to marches to Atlanta.” Dick lets Nix inhale a puff, watching his lips pucker down on the stick before he shifts his fingers away from the cigarette. “Nix when was the last time you shaved?” The pad of Dick’s thumb pressed long, deliberate strokes against the beard on Nix’s cheek, then his jaw. A confused sound of irritation and pleasure spills out of the corner of Nix’s mouth still sucking on the cigarette. Dick doesn’t flinch back when Nix blows out a puff of smoke all over his face. “Sobel doesn’t need more reasons to gig us after this. Heck he already took away Gordon’s pass, as if planting your face two inches deep in mud wasn’t enough.” Nix felt Dick’s middle finger absently brush against the skin just below his earlobe and his entire body react to the odd mixture of building arousal and lethargy. Everything he feels waist down is a disaster. “Then Strayer picks this scorched earth of a hill, tents are flying everywhere,“ Dick’s eyes snap to the cigarette that’s been reduced to a glowing filter on Nix’s lips and decides to pluck it out. “I’m dog tired and none of the CO—“ His thumb and pointer finger press against Nix’s lips when he swipes away the filter, and suddenly there’s nothing for it. Later, Nix will tell himself sleep deprivation is a little like being drunk. He snaps his body up, frozen muscles complaining, and reaches his hand behind Dick’s nape. Their teeth clack together when Nix brings his open mouth to Dick’s own. It’s dry and chapped, if a little bit painful. But when Dick’s thigh presses against Nix’s, it’s hot and hard and Nix can’t find it in him to complain. There was nothing tired about the way they were kissing, cold hands finding warmth on patches of each other's skin. Nix’s leg slides between Dick’s thighs drawing out a groan from the latter. Dick's almost pushed back too far against the pup tent. Only when it sways slightly above them do they separate, still panting, clouds of white puff up in the cold air that hangs between them. “Lew.” “I’ll shave at Benning.” The arousal between Nix’s legs aches but so does everything else. "I'll listen to you complain in the morning. We need to sleep, Dick." Dick reaches up again, his body visibly uncoiling, for Nix’s cheek, tracing the stubble just below the lower lip. “Okay, Lew.” Dick says it when Nix’s eyes finally give and his breathing evens out. Dick's own lips taste like nicotine when he drifts off.

[cllynnarts]

Sweet dreams, starlet!

Your snuggling is the reason I am immobilized.