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esouliie · 3 months ago

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… you should stay in my good graces⋆𐙚₊

(actress!wanda x fem!reader)

tags | romantic asf, a little hurt/comfort, wanda maximoff needs a hug, reader is a reassuring simp, together? they’re both gross horny freaks :3 (18+)

It’s late, around 9 PM, and the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. You’re lounging on the couch of the hotel suite, feeling the gentle buzz of the wine you’ve been sipping. She’s there with you, still dressed in her suit for her upcoming movie’s press junket. Her hair, now a shade of molten chocolate, falls loosely around her face, with random pieces tucked behind her ears. She’s wearing minimal makeup, despite her lips being coated in a subtle reddish oil, and her eyes shimmer gold with every bat of her lashes.

The evening has been easygoing since arriving back, a perfect blend of quiet conversation and shared silences as your girlfriend winds down from being social. You watch her as she took another sip of her wine, her eyes glinting in the soft light. Suddenly, she sets her glass down and rises from the couch with a playful glint in her eye. "I want to play a song for you," she announces with a smile.

You watch as she heads for the old record player tucked in the corner, a vintage piece that had caught her eye the moment you checked in last night. The suite modern charm was evident in every detail, from the heated floors to the spacious kitchen, but the record player, with its polished wood and brass accents, seemed to be the centerpiece of the room. Wanda had been drawn to it immediately, her fingers tracing the smooth surface, a look of nostalgia softening her features.

She flips through the small collection of vinyl records stacked beside it, her brow furrowing in concentration as she searches for the perfect track. After a moment, she lets out a triumphant little sound, pulling out a record with an old, faded cover. The worn label reveals the artist: Sam Cooke. She handles it with reverence, lowering it onto the turntable with a practiced hand. There's a small, satisfied hum as she brings the needle down, and the soft crackle that follows fills the room like the first breath of life. For a moment, everything is still, suspended in the quiet, until the first sweet, soulful notes of "Cupid" drift into the air.

The melody is timeless, a rich cascade of sound that wraps around you like an old, familiar blanket. You recognise the tune, though it's been years since you last heard it. The notes are tender and full of emotion, evoking memories of a time long past yet strangely present in this moment. The room, bathed in the warm glow of the lamps adorned around the space, seems to swell with the sound, the music curling around the furniture, the walls, and finally, the two of you, as if drawing you closer together.

Wanda turns back to you, her eyes bright with anticipation, waiting for your reaction. She knows you love this song, and she loves it too, perhaps even more.

“I love this song.” She reaches out a hand, gesturing for you to join her. You stand, taking it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of her fingers intertwining with yours. The music flows between you like a current, and Wanda begins to sway, drawing you into the rhythm. Her voice, soft and unguarded, rises to meet the melody as she sings along with Cooke:

“Cupid, draw back your bow...”

With her eyes locked on yours, the world around you fades into the background. The record spins, the music lilting through the room as you both begin to dance, a slow, easy movement that feels as natural as breathing.

You follow her lead, letting the song guide your steps. Wanda’s voice, sweet and slightly off-key, weaves through the music, adding her own touch to the tune. There's something so intimate, so pure in the way she sings to you, for you, her voice a quiet confession wrapped in melody.

“You know," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against the instruments, "I've never felt like this with anyone before."

"I feel the same, Wands. Every time I'm with you, it's like the world finally makes sense."

She tilts her head down slightly, her eyes searching yours. "Do you ever wonder if this is too good to be true? Like, maybe we're dreaming, and one day we'll wake up, and it’ll all be gone?"

You stop swaying for a moment, cupping her face gently in your hands. "No, Wanda. This is real. We’re real." You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling her relax into your touch, “You’re never getting rid of me, baby.”

Her hands move to your back, pulling you closer, as if she needs to feel you, to confirm that you’re really here. "Promise me," she whispers, her voice trembling just slightly.

You press your lips to hers again, a gentle, lingering kiss that holds all the promises you can’t yet put into words. “I promise,” you whisper against her, “let me show you.”

Her worries melt away, replaced by a deepening trust as your hands run through her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. The pressure of your lips increases, growing bolder as you feel her responding to you, her own lips parting slightly, inviting you to explore further. A soft sigh escapes her, and it echoes in the stillness around you, a sound that sends a shiver of warmth through your entire body.

The kiss grows, building from that initial, tender connection into something more passionate, more urgent. You can feel the tension in your chest, a yearning that rises and swells with every heartbeat, driving you to close any remaining distance between you. Your other hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Unable to feel the heat of her body through the thick suit jacket, your hands trail inside the material, mapping the thin waist of the taller woman.

She’s wearing nothing underneath.

You deepen the kiss further, your tongue brushing against her lower lip, seeking entrance, a silent request that she grants as her lips part further, allowing you in. Her hands find their way to your shoulders, gripping lightly as she leans in. The kiss is no longer just gentle; it’s filled with a fervent need, an unspoken desire that’s been building between you since the beginning of the night. Since you first saw her in this outfit. She’s kissing you back with equal intensity, every movements matching yours, the both of you lost in this moment, hands groping all and everything you can.

“I want these off,” Wanda husks, pupils blown entirely, as she hurriedly pulls at the zip of your jeans, “… now.”

You don’t bother helping the older woman, as you fling your arms around her to pull the jacket off her toned shoulders, a swift competition to see who can undress who first. You managed to discard the jacket before she can shove her hand down your pants, your fingers already groping at her chest. Your lips making their way down from her neck down to her breasts, lapping at the pebbled nipples before you.

With her hand finally between your legs, stroking ever so languidly, she guides you back towards the couch. You’re too distracted to notice the change until you’re on your back and she’s on top of you. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth before you could protest, hips doing most of the work appeasing you, as she thrusts ever so slowly. Giving up, your legs fall open, calves wrapping around the brunette as if to keep her flush against you.

The kiss comes to an end, much to your dismay, with a singular strand of saliva hanging between you both.

“You’re such a brat. You joke, hands smoothing over her ass, pulling forward.

“Says the one who was racing to undress me first.” She immediately retorts, and you push your luck, retaliating by smacking her ass. She gasps before cutting you a sharp look. Grinding harder against you, her head bends to kiss along your pulse. Her canines sink into the soft skin, a sharp sting following closely before her warm tongue laps along the bruised skin.

“Do that again and I won’t fuck you.”

Your mouth opens a few times, but you weren't sure what to say. You only managed a please, which felt pathetic even to your own ears. The laughing quirk of her lips revealed how little Wanda takes you seriously, and why would she? You were already trembling, unable to form a single thought.

So easy.

Turning your head so she could press her lips against yours, she was licking into your mouth, just separating enough so you didn't suffocate, and even then, it did nothing to help the threads of spit remaining between you both.

But it didn't appear that she was going to stop anytime soon, as her fingers trail up your thigh until she reaches your underwear. Her lips twist into a smile at the feeling of the damp fabric, molding to you. Lithe digits sneak inside, spreading your lips, grazing just under your clit and then down low. “This all for me, baby?”

The feeling so overwhelming, you’re unable to reply. Wanda merely laughs before pressing into you, revelling in how easily you swallowed her fingers, hips moving in time with her. The rooms fills with sounds of breathless moans and her fingers fucking you, her other hand snaked under your top to pinch at your nipples.

“Feels so good.” You manage to stutter out, and bring her down to your lips. Once again, locked in another fervent kiss, moans spilling into her mouth.

A knock on the door jolts you out of your reverie, lips smacking as you pull away, eyes drawn towards the source. Panic surges in your chest as you remember earlier Wanda had invited some of her cast mates to your suite for a games night. Helplessly, you attempt to get your girlfriend to stop, your hand curling around her wrist pumping into you, but she didn’t. Instead, she speeds up, fingers now sliding in at a bruising pace in comparison to her earlier slower one. Your knees were trembling, cunt pulsing around her rigid knuckles, as her thumb circles your clit desperately.

“Gotta be quick, baby,” She huffs, energy depleting with each thrust, whispering terms of endearment as you convulsed, muffling your sounds of pleasure into her neck. Her chest heaves, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she hovers over you.

You couldn't help the way your body shudders, so sensitive, every nerve ending screaming for her to stop and yet for her to continue. Trembling a little less now, her fingers slip out of you cautiously, soothing along your flushed skin despite being coated in you. She studies the room accessing the damage before turning back towards you, noticing you’re already looking up at her, the buzz of your orgasm fading away slightly.

To be honest, you didn’t want games night to happen.

You wanted to spend the rest of your night wrapped up in your girlfriend’s arms, listening to her steady heartbeat as she held you close. But you knew Wanda was shy, and in this industry, she struggled to make friends. It was a hard world to navigate, full of people who wanted something from her or who couldn’t look past her fame to see the wonderful person she was beneath it all. You didn’t want to get in the way of that, all because you were feeling needy and wanting her sole attention. It was her night. Wanda deserved to have friends, people she could laugh with, people who would remind her that not everyone wanted something from her. So, despite the ache in your chest, you pushed your feelings aside, biting down on your lip, trying to suppress the soft whimper that threatens to escape, but she notices.

She always notices.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, and then your cheek, and then your nose. Her lips were warm, comforting, grounding you back to the present. “You did so well, sweetheart.” She leans down placing one last kiss – this time upon your lips, “You know I love you, right?”

You nod, a shy smile curling at the corner of your mouth. “I love you too.”

“Good,” she hums softly, her voice carrying a note of finality. “Now, come on,” her hand behind your back guiding you to your feet, “help me tidy up?”

You groan playfully, your muscles protesting as you try to follow her lead. You wobble when you stand, a reminder of just how thoroughly she’d loved you, and she chuckles, steadying you with a hand on your waist

“Easy there.” She teases, holding tight to your waist. You feel her breath tickle the top of your head, and then, with a gentleness that contrasts the intensity of earlier, she places a chaste kiss upon your tousled hair, before collecting her jacket and buttoning it up around herself like before.

"Oh, Tony’s gonna have a field day when he sees you," she murmurs, the amusement in her voice impossible to miss. You can almost picture it now—Tony’s raised eyebrows, the sly grin that would stretch across his face when he spots the two of you looking disheveled as ever, and the sex joke already bursting free from his smart ass mouth.

“Whatever, Maximoff.” You push her away and in the direction of the door, “go let them in.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n

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slut4hee · 3 months ago

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Never Have I Ever, Fell In Love With A Psycho | S.JY Teaser

{Paring: Ghostface Jake x Blk Cheerleader Fem! Reader

Release date: Tba

{Synopsis: You are the Star Cheerleader of Woodsboro University, Highly favored by your professors and well loved by your peers. You’re known for being a kind hearted soul, who volunteers to help host the charity events at your school and playing your role as the notorious team captain of the cheer squad. So what could you have possibly done to become Ghostface’s target?

{Genre: smut, serial killer themes, angst, Jake is batshit crazy, college au, 18+ so (mdni).

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, oral (m&r receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, cum eating, knife play, dirty talk, fingering, pet names, mentions of murder, possessive behavior, obsession (Jake), stalking, character death (not reader or Jake), Jealousy, one sided love at first (Jake), profanities, kidnapping.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Your heart pounds out of your chest rapidly as tears and your now ruined eyeliner runs down your face. You sprint through the hallways of the school running for dear life, hoping and praying that whatever fucked up nightmare this was you will wake up from it soon. You can hear their eerie dark voice and evil menacing laugh behind you causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

Your vision is blurred from the tears that won’t stop falling from your eyelids, fear consumes you whole as you hear the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. Your breathing is ragged, your heart feels like it’s gonna explode any minute from the adrenaline that’s rushing through your veins.

They’re hot on your tail, you can hear them everywhere around you, from behind you, and in your head completely taking over your brain cells. Finally barging into a empty classroom you lock the door shut.

You spot a storage closet making your way into it, you place your hand over your mouth trying to ground yourself from making any noise while trying to control your breathing. You hear what sounds like the sound of metal dragging against the wall piercing through your eardrums.

The waterworks continues as you try to calm yourself down, fighting the urge to scream out loud because you’re so damn terrified. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you hear the door to the classroom slam open.

You hear footsteps walking slowly across the perfectly polished vinyl floors. A knife can be heard being slowly dragged against the desk causing a horrible sound to echo throughout the classroom causing your breath to hitch.

Your eyes go wide when you realize you given yourself away and you pray to god you wake up from this shitty nightmare as soon as possible. The footsteps grow closer to the storage closet as you peak out the little opening of the closet door.

A figure can be seen wearing a black hooded robe, a white skull like mask, and black gloves. You’re full on going into a state of panic when you recognize the masked person from the news and pictures and posters that’s been posted all around campus.

You heard the masked killer goes by Ghostface and he’s known for being a very heartless brutal serial killer. he’s killed 20 people so far and your heart sinks knowing you will mark the 21st person he murders if he was to kill you.

Just as you are processing the information in your head the door to the closet door swings open and you’re met with none other then Ghostface himself. Your heart feels like it’s not beating anymore as time seems to stop.

You don’t move a muscle, completely frozen and paralyzed from the fear and anxiety that’s coursing through your veins. The masked person slightly tilts their head to the side almost like they’re studying your every move.

Finally building up enough strength to speak you decide to do what anyone would do in this situation, beg for their life to spared.

“P-Please don’t kill me, I haven’t done anything wrong to you please I don’t want to die I’ll do anything you want just please don’t murder me” you plead from the bottom of your heart, hoping Ghostface will let you go. The masked figure doesn’t say a word but just stares at you. His breathing coming in steady and calm causing a gut wrenching chill to run down your spine.

suddenly the masked figure starts to chuckle lowly almost mockingly as they bring the cold metal knife to your chin gently lifting your face being careful to not cut through your pretty brown skin and finally they speak.

“Oh Y/n baby, how could you think so little of me? You think I would hurt the most precious thing I hold dearly to me? Do you think I would harm you my darling love, I’m so disappointed in you my love I thought you would’ve known better” the masked figure leans closer to your face, you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

“You mean the world to me my sweet baby, I could never harm you I will kill myself before I lay a finger on you my dear” they hum reassuringly, tucking one of your braids behind your ear.

“W-Who are you! I-I don’t even know who you are how could you possibly be in love with me” you managed to blurt out despite of being scared for your life. Your eyes widened when the masked figure slowly removes their mask, revealing none other than Jake Sim, the top student in your physics class, the guy who never really speaks to anyone, the guy who sits in the back distant from everyone, the guy who nobody would have thought would be committing these horrible murders.

“What’s wrong baby girl? Surprised to see me” Jake smirks at you with an evil unhinged smile, the fear consumes you still, but the flutter in your stomach and the way your heart skips a beat has you questioning your sanity and now you find yourself asking yourself are you just as insane as him?

To be continued…

A/n: eeeee I’m so excited to write this story, I’m so down bad for Ghostface Jake so I know I’m gonna be creaming nonstop while writhing this 😭 but guys I hope you enjoy the teaser because i literally suck at writing them. Please feel free to reblog, share, comment, and like muah 💋.

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eeeeuuughggg · 1 year ago

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sal fisher hcs

note: i hope u enjoy this madi

sal almost always smells like zaza and cologne. actually no he probably uses the bubblegum hello kitty perfume. it just smells so yummy to him he doesn't like 'proper' dates that much tbh. he wouldnt wanna go to a restaurant bcs of his prosthetic - so it's probably you guys at home in a pillow fort watching final destination.

he definitely goes to music shops and spends hours there. he'll spend a good 2 hours or so looking through what vinyls they have, maybe looking for CDs, too.

whenever they have the newest sanity's fall album in stock, he buys it straight away. he loooves that shit. (don't blame him, me too.)

sal brings a small digital camera with him everywhere; he takes pictures of interesting things he finds, memories, ghost stuff, evidence/findings, whatnot.

he paints his nails a lot. mainly black, but sometimes he goes for a bit more colour. (red, blue, that's.. kind of it.) he's constantly redoing them because he chips off the nail polish absentmindedly or when he's bored.

he sleeps weird. he falls asleep on the couch and wakes up facedown in the bathtub. he's definitely one of those people who falls asleep and then wakes up on the other end of the bed or on the floor.

his spotify playlists r so fucking long. like 30h minimum at most. there's no such thing as a playlist that's too long, wdym?

he fucking loves nintendo games. he knows all the secret power up and hidden locations in the mario games.

not too happy w this one cus its short af and feels kinda fanon but eeeehhhhh i hope u enjoy this @ihateyouz!!

remember to reblog to support creators :)

#sallyface #sally face #sal fisher #sallyface headcanons #sally face headcanons #sal fisher headcanons #sallyface hcs #sally face hcs #sal fisher hcs #headcanons #hcs #sallyface x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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queenshelby · 10 months ago

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MINI SERIES: THE SLAVE

PART THREE OF THE DARK & SEXY SERIES

NOTE: This is a series of one shots and mini series for Cillian Murphy & Tommy Shelby in which he acts totally off-canon. Most of these shots are very dark in nature and you should read their individual warnings. All of these shots are requests from readers. Co-written with @darkshelbyfiction! ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. MINORS DNI.

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL LOSS OF VIRGINITY, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

It had been two days since you were brought to Birmingham from your home country after promises of prosperity and wealth.

But the cost for this was higher than you ever imagined when you were sold, by your very own father, as property to the highest bidder.

Now you had arrived at Thomas Shelby's estate, which stood majestically against the backdrop of lush greenery and manicured gardens. The mansion, built centuries ago, seemed to command the landscape around it, much like how its owner commanded people within it.

A maid named Nadia greeted you at the entrance, leading you up the grand staircase that spiraled upwards into a series of breathtaking domed ceilings and magnificent chandeliers. Each room presented an extravagant spectacle of artistry and craftsmanship; it was as if every corner had been meticulously designed to overwhelm even the most jaded observer.

Despite the opulence surrounding you, something felt unsettling about the silence that enveloped the house. As far as you could tell, there was no one else here except the maids and yourself. This was not just a house, but a fortress - an impregnable bastion constructed on foundations of isolation and distance.

"This way," intoned the maid, gesturing down a long hallway lined with oil paintings depicting scenes of aristocratic splendor. The air smelled stale - it had been many years since anyone had breathed life into this grand edifice.

"I will show you to your room," whispered Nadia, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder.

As she walked ahead, you noticed her movements were careful, almost rehearsed, as if she had done this countless times before.

Her gait betrayed an unnatural rhythm, a pattern formed by habituation rather than choice.

She knew the layout of the house inside out, each twist and turn etched into her memory like grooves on an old vinyl record.

You followed her silently, allowing the grandeur of the mansion to wash over you.

Every now and then, you caught glimpses of your reflection in the polished marble floors, a ghostly image of yourself trapped between reality and illusion. You found yourself feeling strangely calm and collected, despite the circumstances that led you here.

Nadia finally stopped outside a door adorned with intricate carvings and gestured you into a room without windows.

"This is where you will sleep and perform your duties," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. There was something eerie about the maid, an unspoken understanding between her and the master of the house.

Slowly stepping into the dimly lit chamber, you took note of the opulent surroundings: velvet curtains hung from gold-plated rails, plush rugs lay scattered across the polished hardwood floor, and delicate porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers graced every surface.

However, the abundance of luxury did little to ease the unease that settled deep within your gut.

The maid turned abruptly, locking eyes with you. "At night, the room will be locked securely so don't attempt to leave. If you need anything, ring the bell by the bedside table," she told you before fluffing up some of the cushions on the bed.

"I never..." You trailed off, swallowing back tears that threatened to betray your bravado. You forced yourself to maintain eye contact with the maid, knowing full well that any sign of weakness would be exploited mercilessly. "I have not done anything like this before. I was told that I had to because a lot of money was paid for my services, but understand please that I have no experience," you then stammered, knowing full well that you had been purchased to perform sexual acts for your benefactor.

"The fact that you are so innocent, and young is precisely why Mr. Shelby has purchased you," Nadia responded coldly, turning away to adjust a lamp on the nightstand.

"Now, let me explain to you what is expected of you around here," she continued, softening her tone slightly.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, and your palms slickened with sweat, though you managed to nod affirmatively, meeting her gaze steadily. "Firstly, you must address Mr. Shelby as 'Sir' at all times. Do not forget," she warned sternly.

You swallowed hard, nodding again.

"You will be allowed to leave your room with another maid, between eight o'clock in the morning and eight o'clock in the evening, but not otherwise unless Mr. Shelby is with you," Nadia explained, adjusting a silk pillow propped by the headboard.

You tried to picture a day spent in confinement, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine.

"Mr. Shelby will inform you directly when he requires your services. Most often he will come here to use you for his pleasure, and he usually expects to be attended to at least twice per day, occasionally more often. You should prepare yourself mentally and physically for his needs because it can get quite overwhelming sometimes," Nadia explained and your breath hitched, but you managed to control the panic rising within you.

"And if I refuse?" you asked, causing Nadia to pause and look at you. "Refusal is not an option. Mr. Shelby doesn't tolerate disobedience. You must do whatever he asks."

Your hands shook involuntarily, but you clenched them into fists to prevent further trembling. You nodded weakly, fighting back tears.

"What he wants...is it...painful?" What you didn't know, what you couldn't comprehend, was whether the physical pain of intimacy would be more bearable than the emotional agony of submitting to someone else's whims.

"Sometimes, but he's gentle enough," Nadia replied matter-of-factly. "Now, you must get ready for tonight. He will be visiting you at 8 o'clock and expects you to wear nothing but a pair of undergarments of your choice," Nadia said before directing you to your wardrobe. "You will lie on the bed and wait for him, understood?" she asked and, again, you nodded.

"I will be back after he is done with you to change the sheets and provide food and water," Nadia then finally explained before she left you alone in the darkness, save for the faint glow of your bedside lamp. You heard the key turn in the lock, sealing you in the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process everything she told you.

On the bedside table you found a bottle of lubrication next to a bottle of painkillers, both small comforts in the face of the reality of your situation and, when you looked around the room, you also found other items such as restraints hanging neatly from hooks in the wall. You shivered, feeling your anxiety rise.

Then, just before 8 o'clock, there was a knock on the door. You flinched, jumping to your feet and nearly knocking over the lamp.

"It's time," Nadia called through the door. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage.

You stripped off your clothes, leaving you naked in the dim light of the room. You pulled on a pair of cotton panties, their thin fabric barely covering the shame you felt.

You then laid down beneath the thin sheets and waited for your new master's arrival. The tension mounted as the seconds ticked by, the sound of footsteps echoing loudly in the silent mansion.

There was a creak of the door opening, and an intimidating figure emerged from the shadows. His presence loomed large, filling the space with an aura of dominance and power. He wore only a robe, his toned body visible underneath. You bit your lip nervously, unable to tear your gaze away from those imposing features.

Thomas Shelby, you reminded yourself – a name that would forever haunt your dreams. His cold blue eyes swept over you, assessing your worth.

You stared back, holding his gaze, refusing to cower.

"Welcome, Love," he rasped, his voice like gravel underfoot, but you remained silent, swallowing the lump in your throat. He moved closer, looming over you like a storm cloud, his scent of sandalwood and spice filling your nostrils.

"I trust Nadia has briefed you on your duties?" he queried, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your skin recoiled at his touch, but you refused to pull away.

"Yes, she did," you mumbled hesitantly, your voice cracking under his scrutiny. He studied you carefully, tracing the lines of your jaw with his fingers.

"Good girl," he crooned softly, a strange sense of pride swelling within you. Your resolve wavered at the compliment, but you steeled yourself, reminding yourself of the reality of your situation as he touched some of your bare skin not covered by the white sheet.

"Relax Love," he then said softly as the heat of his hand seared through your skin, sending quivers up your spine. "You will get used to this after a while," he went on to say and his voice was comforting, yet the words stung like venom.

Your breath quickened, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and your hands instinctively curled into fists beneath the thin white sheet covering you. You wanted to scream, but instead, you simply nodded, unable to find any words to respond.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes appraising your form beneath the covers. "I am going to have a look at you now, eh" he said suddenly, reaching down to lift the edge of the sheet away from your body.

You squirmed and turned red, trying to cover yourself. But he pushed your hands aside gently, staring at you with a mixture of lust and admiration. "I cannot wait to feel your tight little cunt squeeze around my cock when I claim you," he whispered, running his fingertips along your inner thigh, causing you to shiver uncomfortably.

"But first, let me have a look at this little virgin hole of yours, eh?" the man said and his words sent a wave of unease coursing through your veins. You could feel the sweat trickling down your face, mingling with the tears pooling in your eyes. You bit your lip, struggling to contain the sobs threatening to erupt from inside you.

With a gentle tug, he pulled your panties down just enough to expose your slit and your heart pounded against your chest almost painfully.

"I have been told that your opening is particularly small" he murmured, trailing his fingers over your slit before parting your labia slightly, exposing your tiny clit.

"Ow!" you gasped, wincing at the sudden stretch caused by his fingers.

"You do have a tight opening indeed," he grinned wickedly, licking his lips.

Thomas gazed at it with fascination, reaching between your thighs. You tried to close your legs, but he firmly held them open, pressing a dry finger against your entrance, probing it gently.

"Look at that," he breathed, leaning forward to get a better view. "It's barely opened up yet," Tommy groaned as he probed deeper, widening your opening until he found your hymen—a thin membrane that separated you from being fully broken. His fingers brushed against it, sending stinging pain shooting through your core as he toyed with your opening.

"Now, be a good girl and hold still for me," he cooed, pressing the tips of one of his fingers against your entrance. "I need to stretch you out a bit, ready for later," he went on to say as his finger pressed harder, forcing its way into your most intimate space. It felt too big, too foreign. The pain was excruciating, but you did your best not to make a sound.

"There we go," he muttered, thrusting deeper until his entire pointer finger filled you up. "That's a good girl. Now, let's see if I can get a second one in there," he told you before reaching for the bottle of lubrication he kept on the nightstand and squirting the viscous liquid onto two of his fingers.

"Hold still for me," he reminded you before swiping his fingers across your outer lips and then pushing not one but two fingers right into you.

You cried out and arched your back, biting into your own fist to stop any louder sounds from escaping.

"Shh," Thomas hushed you, rubbing soothing circles into your hipbone as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers felt cold and slimy inside you, sliding easily past your resistance, tearing at your hymen with each thrust.

You closed your eyes tightly, gritting your teeth as the sensation of being stretched and torn overwhelmed you.

The sight of his fingers stretching you like this turned him on; he couldn't help but groan and squeeze harder, making sure you knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"Such a good girl," he praised between grunts, watching your petals pulse around his digits, growing wetter and slicker with every stroke.

"See how hard you make me?" he moaned, opening his robe and grabbing hold of his erection, stroking it firmly. "I really want to fuck you now," he determined before he withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed.

"Now be a good girl and turn over and lay flat on your stomach, face down against pillow," he commanded gruffly, pushing your upper body onto the mattress.

You hesitated, wanting to turn over and hide your nakedness, but fear of displeasing him kept you lying facedown.

"I am going to use some lubrication, but it is going to hurt a lot more if you don't relax Love," he warned sharply, pulling your waist upwards and spreading your legs apart.

As you lay on your stomach and your heart hammered against your chest. The thought of being penetrated by him sent chills down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to block out the inevitable.

You whimpered softly, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come, and Tommy smeared a generous amount of lube onto his cock, coating it in a thick layer of slippery fluid. You flinched in anticipation as he positioned himself between your legs.

"This might hurt a bit for the first few days, but you will get used to it after a while. The more we do it, the easier it will get," he said while aligning himself with your entry point.

"Now," he continued, his tone stern. "I want you to stay completely still when I penetrate you," he added, applying another dollop of lube to his shaft.

You remained silent, swallowing loudly as you attempted to gather your courage. You could hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears; the rhythmic, thunderous pounding was deafening.

"Do you understand?" he asked quietly and you nodded. Your muscles tensed, ready to endure whatever came next.

Thomas placed the head of his penis at your entrance, teasing you with a slow push. You exhaled loudly, gripping the sheets in your fists.

"Relax and let me in," Thomas urged you, nudging the tip of his member against your entrance. "That's it," he sighed, feeling your body yield under his command. His cock slid into you, stretching you wide open, and the friction of entering you caused a shudder to ripple through his body.

"Ah," he groaned, reveling in the exquisite sensation of being enveloped by your warm, tight channel. "Such a good girl," he groaned as he savored the moment, basking in the sensations that coursed through him. Then, he began to thrust, filling you up inch by agonizing inch until every last millimeter of his erection was buried deep within you.

"So tight," he groaned, bucking into you with a force that seemed to shake the entire bed. "Fuck, you're so goddamn tight."

"You are going to be such a good little whore for me, eh?" Tommy murmured into your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.

"You will take my cock many times a day, love," he growled, his words a dark promise that sent a chill down your spine. "In the morning, afternoon, and evening."

You swallowed loudly, unable to meet his gaze. Your heart hammered wildly against your chest, and you struggled to suppress the sob that threatened to escape.

"Every time I come through that door, you'll be ready for me, won't you?" he asked, his grip tightening around your hip.

"Because I'm going to fuck you whenever I want, Love." Tommy snarled, punctuating his words with hard thrusts.

For almost an hour, he used you like this, treating you like a rag doll that belonged to him alone until, finally, he was ready to ejaculate inside your raw opening.

"I am going to cum inside you now, Love," he informed you, his cock twitching violently against your vaginal wall.

"Do you want me to fill you up with my seed?" he asked you, his voice laced with lust, his fingers tightening around your hips.

"Yes, sir," you managed to reply, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

He smiled down at you, satisfaction shining in his eyes. "Good girl," he praised, pumping his cock a few more times before letting out a guttural yell and filling you up with his essence.

As he collapsed next to you, panting heavily, you could feel his warmth radiating into your channel.

The remnants of his semen trickled down your leg, leaving a sticky trail behind.

"That was a lovely experience, wasn't it?" Tom said, his voice still coarse from exertion. "Now rest. I am going to fuck you again when I come back from my business deal tonight" he added, his gaze lingering on your tender, swollen lips.

He moved his hands to cup your breasts, palming them gently before pinching your nipples.

"You are going to learn to enjoy it Love," he whispered, his voice harsh and commanding. "And when you do," he paused, his breath hot against your cheek, "you are going to beg me for more," he determined before putting his robe back on and calling one of the maids to help you clean up.

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby smut

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springcleaningservices · 1 year ago

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ENHANCING SAFETY WITH SLIP-RESISTANT FLOOR POLISHING

Things To Know About Slip-Resistant Floor Polishing –

What is slip-resistant polishing?

You must take steps to make the surface of the current floor rough in order to make it non-slip. This can be accomplished by polishing a floor that is slip-resistant, which can lower the likelihood of slipping on the surface. The coefficient of friction (COF), a measurement for measuring how slick the floors are, is used to describe this property.

Things which lead to floor slipperiness –

Our operations can occasionally make the floors more slick. You need be very careful about a few things while utilising tiles in the bathroom, kitchen or room flooring, regardless of the type. Use a different mop from the one you used to clean the floor initially.

Things to remember while cleaning the floor –

You must exercise caution when cleaning the flooring. And in that situation, you ought to pay attention to his actions if you hired specialists to handle the cleaning. While cleaning the floors, there are a number of factors to take into account:

Utilise cleaning supplies of high calibre that can thoroughly clean floors without leaving any residue behind.

Make use of high-quality cleaning tools that can effectively clean floors without leaving any trace.

Use a dry mop once more to clean the floor thereafter so that it dries fast.

Try to maintain the floors as dry as possible and avoid leaving the floor wet for an extended period of time.

You should be extremely cautious when cleaning any locations where the floors have damage since you risk tripping over them.

Read More: ENHANCING SAFETY WITH SLIP-RESISTANT FLOOR POLISHING

#vinyl floor polishing

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dryfastcleaning · 1 year ago

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Hard Floor/Vinyl Floor Polishing in Auckland offers Dry Fast Cleaning.

Are you planning to give the work over to your business or residential floors to achieve a top finish and fine aesthetics? We at DryFast are pioneers in providing comprehensive cleaning services for vinyl and other flooring surfaces. We will help your floors to achieve the highest quality of glossy finish that is eyeball grabbing. Dry Fast Cleaning is an all-in-one cleaning services provider in Auckland, that offers best class Hard Floor/Vinyl Floor Polishing in Auckland (New Zealand). For more info. visit now: www.dryfast.co.nz/service/hard-floor-vinyl-floor-polishing

#auckland #dryfast #new zealand #cleaning services #floor cleaning #floor polishing #vinyl floor polishing #hard floor cleaning #outdoor cleaning #indoor cleaning

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blogport · 4 months ago

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EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

Epoxy floor coating is not just a practical choice for enhancing the durability of your flooring; it's also a stylish solution that can transform any space. Whether you're a homeowner looking to revamp your garage or a business owner seeking reliable commercial flooring solutions, understanding the benefits of epoxy will help you make informed decisions. As you search for "floor polishing near me," consider how an expertly applied epoxy coating can elevate your interiors while providing a long-lasting finish.

Epoxy Floor Coating

Epoxy floor coating is a highly durable and resilient flooring solution that has gained popularity in both residential and commercial spaces. This type of coating is made from a combination of resin and hardener, creating a strong bond when applied to existing concrete surfaces. The result is a seamless surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic, chemicals, and abrasions.

One of the major benefits of epoxy floor coating is its versatility. It can be customized in various colors and finishes, including high-gloss and matte textures. This means that property owners can choose a look that complements their interior design while still providing the durability they require. Additionally, the smooth finish of epoxy makes it easy to clean and maintain, which is particularly advantageous in commercial settings.

Furthermore, the installation process for epoxy floor coating is relatively quick, often completed within a few days. However, it’s essential to hire professionals who have the expertise and equipment to ensure a flawless application. The right team will properly prepare the surface, allowing for optimal adhesion and longevity of the coating.

Floor Polishing Near Me

When searching for floor polishing near me, it's essential to find a service that not only meets your expectations but also understands the unique needs of your flooring. Professional floor polishing can revitalize old surfaces, restoring their shine and luster while protecting them from future wear and tear.

Many local companies offer specialized services in floor polishing that cater to various materials, including hardwood, tile, and concrete. A quick search in your area will yield numerous options, allowing you to compare prices, services, and customer reviews to find the best fit for your needs.

Additionally, hiring professionals for floor polishing ensures that the job is done correctly and efficiently. They use advanced equipment and high-quality products that not only enhance the appearance of your floors but also extend their lifespan. So, don't hesitate to reac

Commercial Flooring Solutions

Commercial flooring solutions are essential for businesses seeking to enhance their aesthetic appeal while also ensuring durability and functionality. The choice of flooring can greatly influence the overall atmosphere of a commercial space, leading to improved employee morale and customer satisfaction.

Among the various options available, epoxy floor coatings stand out due to their seamless finish and resistance to heavy foot traffic. These coatings not only provide a sleek look but also protect the underlying surface from wear and tear, making them ideal for warehouses, retail spaces, and industrial environments.

Moreover, businesses often explore additional options such as vinyl flooring, carpet tiles, and laminate surfaces to meet specific needs. Each of these materials offers unique advantages, allowing business owners to choose the most suitable flooring solution that aligns with their operational demands and aesthetic preferences.

Metallic Epoxy Floor

A metallic epoxy floor offers a stunning visual appeal that enhances the aesthetic of any space. The reflective properties of the metallic pigments create a unique look, resulting in a three-dimensional effect that can mimic a variety of surfaces, such as water, marble, or even molten metal. This type of flooring is especially popular in modern homes, showrooms, and commercial spaces, providing an eye-catching yet durable surface.

One of the significant advantages of a metallic epoxy floor is its durability. This flooring solution is resistant to stains, chemicals, and impacts, making it ideal for high-traffic areas. Additionally, it is easy to clean and maintain, which means that business owners and homeowners can save time and resources. The seamless nature of epoxy flooring also contributes to a hygienic environment, especially in spaces like hospitals or laboratories.

Installing a metallic epoxy floor can be a customized process, allowing property owners to choose their preferred colors and patterns. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, industrial look or a vibrant, artistic finish, this flooring solution can be tailored to meet your unique vision. By consulting with professionals, you can ensure that your metallic epoxy floor is installed correctly and maximizes its longevity and beauty.

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mystictf · 24 days ago

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A Night To Remember

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

2893 words.

In the heart of Brooklyn during the early 1940s, the world was caught in a tumultuous dance, as nations clashed and destinies were forged in the fires of conflict. Yet, even in such times, life managed to etch out moments of beauty, gentleness, and a burgeoning love. For James Buchanan Barnes - known to his friends as Bucky - and his close friend, you, this story began under the warm, flickering lights of a Brooklyn evening before shadows would lengthen into war.

Bucky Barnes, with his easy smile and affable nature, was the emblem of youthful vigour, a neighbourhood favourite who seemed to carry the sunlight with him. You, on the other hand, were the kind of person whose quiet strength and perceptive eyes often went unnoticed at first, but once seen, left an indelible impression. You and Bucky had known each other for years, your paths crossing in that comfortable rhythm of familiar companionship. But tonight was different - it was a night set apart. The evening began in the hustle and bustle of the Brooklyn streets, just as the shops were dimming their lights and the hum of daily life gave way to the sounds of laughter and music spilling out from neighbourhood doors. Bucky arrived at your modest apartment, a spring of wildflowers clasped in his hand, excitement dancing in his eyes. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Bucky Barnes,” you teased, your eyes shimmering as they met his at the threshold. You had dressed with extra care - perhaps a little self-consciously - choosing a dress that was both modest and flattering, its fabric catching the warm light in a way that enhanced your natural grace. “I could say the same to you,” Bucky grinned, offering the small bouquet with a slightly theatrical bow. “For you, milady.”

You walked together, arms brushing now and then, to a nearby diner. The promise of warmth and good company made your steps light. Seated across from each other in a vinyl booth, you talked with ease as the world outside slowly gave itself over to the evening. Across the table, Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice becoming more earnest. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, “once… once I ship out, I won’t have this. The easy nights, the laughter, the…” He seemed to search for the right words, glancing at you with a vulnerability that was rare to see from him, someone usually so composed. “The people who matter.” You swallowed, your heart catching on the implications of his words. “Bucky, you’ll come back,” you said quietly, but with conviction. “You’ll come back, and we’ll make sure to create a thousand nights like this.” He looked at you intently, his expression softening, “I’d like that.”

With your meal completed, the two of you made your way to the dance hall, the sounds of a live band greeting you as you approached. The hall was alive with people shedding the day’s concerns in favour of song and rhythm - an echo of the relentless hope that pulsed through the city, no matter the storm on the horizon. The band was in full swing, and couples whirled around you both in a joyful blur. Bucky held out his hand, his blue eyes holding a question and a promise. “Dance with me?” You nodded, smiling, placing your hand in his. You both joined the throng on the polished wooden floor, the music washing over you like a buoyant wave. Bucky was a natural dancer, his movements sure and graceful, and together, you found an easy rhythm, an unspoken language. The world faded, leaving only the music and the two of you. Bucky spun you around, your laughter bright and clear as the two of you lost yourselves in the dance. Each step, each turn, became an affirmation of the unspoken bond growing between you - a fragile, beautiful thing nurtured in stolen moments. As the band struck up a slower tune, Bucky drew you closer, your movements slowing into something more intimate. You rested your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to savour the nearness, the warmth of him. “Tell me something,” you breathed, your voice barely carrying over the song. “Something you’ll miss the most.” Bucky was quiet for a moment, as if considering the weight of your present amidst the uncertainty of the future. “This,” he finally said, his voice carrying a subtle, wistful undertone, “dancing with you.” Your heart skipped, warmth blooming in your chest, and you tightened your hold slightly. “When you’re back,” you murmured, “promise me another dance? And maybe a thousand more after.” Bucky pulled back slightly, meeting your eyes with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I promise.” His words were a gentle vow, a tether to your future. The music faded into the background, less of a presence than a feeling, a texture running through the space around you and binding the two of you together in that moment. As the band played on, time seemed to stretch and condense, suspending you both in a world of your own. The others around you blurred into insignificance, leaving you and Bucky in the centre of a vast, pulsating universe composed solely of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

Eventually, the music slowed, coming to a close with the gentle hum of the band. Reluctantly, you stepped apart, but something ineffable lingered between you both - a promise of more than just another dance. Outside the dance hall, the evening air was cool against your flushed cheeks, and the stars above twinkled as silent witnesses to your budding romance. Bucky, with his arm companionably around your shoulders, guided you along the sidewalk, neither one of you eager to end the night. “Bucky,” you began softly, your voice a delicate thread against the backdrop of distant city sounds. “I want you to know how much tonight meant to me.” You paused, looking up at him, searching his face as if to imprint the memory into your mind. “It meant the world to me too, Y/N,” he replied, sincerity woven through every word. “You mean the world to me.” You both continued to walk, your hearts buoyed by the evening’s perfect simplicity. Bucky’s thoughts were a mixture of anticipation and a whisper of fear for what was to come. The war was a daunting spectre on the horizon, a reality set to reshape both of your lives - and yet, nestled within it was this single night of joy that spurred him forward.

As you reached your doorstep, the streetlamp above casting a gentle glow around you both, Bucky took a step closer, gathering his courage in the face of the uncertain future. “I won’t say goodbye,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Only ’see you soon’. And I’ll be counting every day till I’m back.” You nodded, your voice steady even as emotion thickened it. “I’ll be waiting and writing letters even if I know you might not get them right away. When you’re far away, read them and remember that there’s someone here thinking about you.” Bucky smiled at that, the notion easing something tense within him. He leaned in then, pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead - an unspoken vow, with the night air as your witness, before drawing back. “I promise I’ll come back,” he said, a determined edge threading through his words. “We’ll have that dance, and many more.” You nodded, offering him a smile filled with all the conviction and hope you could muster. “I’ll hold you to that promise, James Buchanan Barnes.” With one last lingering look, Bucky turned to leave, each step carrying him closer to the departure that awaited. But he left behind something no war could take away - the beginning of something precious, nurtured in the quiet spaces of dance and laughter.

In the days that followed, as Bucky prepared to ship out, you both held onto the memory of your night together as a keepsake against what was to come. And while the world around you both seemed poised on the brink of irrevocable change, your hearts held firm with the knowledge that love, first kindled in the simplest of evenings and sealed with a dance, was both your anchor and your guiding light home. When the world felt a little less bright, you would turn to those memories, letting the warmth and hope carry you through. And as the echoes of music played in your mind, you knew with certainty as deep as the endless sky that one day, Bucky would return to dance with you once more under the starlit Brooklyn skies.

The roar of engines filled Bucky’s ears as the transport plane shook with turbulence, flying high above a land so foreign and yet so beautiful under the sweeping vistas of a European sky. This was far from the Brooklyn streets he knew like the back of his hand - a world away from the warmth of home and lingering embrace of you as you shared that bittersweet farewell. Days blurred into weeks, and weeks blurred into months. War had a way of compressing time into a relentless cycle of missions and manoeuvres. Yet, amidst the chaos of conflict and the camaraderie shared with his fellow soldiers, Bucky found solace in the memories of that one perfect night.

When the sky exploded with artillery and the ground trembled under the weight of battle, Bucky closed his eyes for a heartbeat and let the rhythm of a remembered dance guide him through. In quiet moments, when the world seemed impossibly vast and the horizon insurmountable, he would pull your letters from his jacket pocket, smoothing the well-worn paper to read your words by firelight or the flickering beam of a flashlight. Each letter was a lifeline, with words of everyday musings, hopeful reflections, and steadfast affection, giving him strength. He pictured you writing them, your face illuminated by lamplight, and imagined the melody in your voice as you crafted each sentence - a symphony of warmth that accompanied him in the trenches. One night, beneath a canopy of stars that looked remarkably like those above Brooklyn, Bucky lay in his bunk, surrounded by the soft snores of sleeping men. With a letter unfolded in his hands, he traced your handwriting with the tip of his finger. Your latest had told stories of things big and small - the neighbourhood's resilience, your own pursuits, and little notes on the nights you’d spent dancing alone, awaiting his return. He smiled faintly, the edges of his worries dulling with each word. You spoke of a new dance that you had learned, your descriptions vivid enough that he could almost see you twirling around the small space of your living room. “Save that one for me,” he whispered to the empty air, a promise as steady and sure as when you’d last met. “You’ll have to teach me first.”

The duty to return, to keep the promise he made, weighed heavily but encouragingly on his shoulders. It fueled his resolve with each mission, each long march through foreign fields, and each night spent under the open sky. His determination, a silent vow kept alive by the memory of your touch, was more potent than the rationed meals or iron discipline keeping him on his feet. In moments of camaraderie with his fellow soldiers, when quiet confessions were exchanged around impromptu fires, Bucky would speak of you - your last dance, your letters, your plans for the future. His stories painted a tapestry of life beyond the battlefield, a beacon that drew others in with tales of love and hope. And so, as the months wore on and the seasons changed, Bucky moved through the war with a heart anchored by the promise of returning home. Your letters continued to be his guiding star, the constant reminder of all he fought for - the life that you would build together once the world righted itself once more.

War tested every limit of endurance yet inspired him with a newfound appreciation for life’s cherished moments. The memory of your laughter, the softness of your eyes meeting his, and the dance that played on in his mind with every step kept hope alive in the darkest hours. He knew, deep in his soul, that he had to make it back. For himself, for his brothers-in-arms, and most importantly, for you - the promise of a thousand dances waiting to unfold beneath the Brooklyn sky.

The train's rhythmic clatter over the tracks was a reassuring sound, one that seemed to resonate with the beating of Bucky’s own heart. As the city skyline of New York began to emerge on the horizon, he felt a mix of anticipation and nerves fusing together within him. This was it - the moment he had envisioned and longed for through the countless days and nights overseas. He stepped off the train into a bustling station, the sounds and smells reminding him of all that he had missed: the vibrant hum of life, the familiarity of the everyday lives being lived around him. There was an energy in the air, one that promised healing and new beginnings. Bucky shouldered his pack, its weight now lighter somehow, and made his way through the crowded streets. He wore his uniform, which drew nods of acknowledgement and met old acquaintances who shared similar war-drawn lines on their faces. Yet, despite the shared experiences, all he could focus on was the thought of seeing you again.

Brooklyn unfolded around him, every corner infused with memory. It was the same yet different - a city that had held its ground as the world changed. Finally, he arrived on your street, flanked by familiar row houses and the leafy trees he remembered so well. With each step, the air felt thicker, charged with emotion. As he approached your building, he paused, taking a moment to steady himself, inhaling deeply. He rolled his shoulders back, smoothing his hair with a hand that trembled slightly. This was a homecoming long overdue - not just to his hometown but to the person who had anchored him through every storm. He knocked, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet evening. Moments stretched infinitely, each second weighted with the anticipation of reconnection. Then, the door opened, and there you were - standing before him, more beautiful than even his most cherished memory.

For a heartbeat, you both simply looked at one another, absorbing years in the space of a glance. Then, you stepped forward, and before Bucky could even speak, you pulled him into a tight embrace. “Bucky,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, the feeling of you more comforting than anything he had imagined. “Y/N,” he replied softly, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes sweeping over your features as if imprinting them anew. “I promised I’d come back.” You smiled, that same brilliant smile that had illuminated countless nights for him. “And I knew you would.” You both stood there on the threshold, a connection both delicate and strong knitting you both back together. The unvoiced promise of your shared letters and dreams seemed to hum in the space around you.

Inside, familiar comforts surrounded you both. The apartment was filled with subtle changes and little touches that spoke of your life while he had been gone. You sat together, sharing stories and laughter, filling in the gaps time had etched with renewed warmth and understanding. As the evening wore on, Bucky’s gaze fell on the phonograph in the corner. He smiled, a memory sparking to life. “Remember that dance you promised to teach me?” Your eyes sparkled with mischief and affection. “I hope you’re ready to learn, Buck.” You stood, offering him your hand, which he took with a surness that had grown from your shared past. With gentle elegance, you placed the needle on the record. The room filled with music, and you led him in a dance like no other - you were in sync, moving effortlessly together, the rest of the world fading into insignificance. Bucky followed your lead at first, stepping carefully until the rhythm became part of him, allowing himself to be carried by the moment. You danced through the room, and it was as if every letter, every hope, and every dream that you both shared was manifesting here, now. He twirled you around, your laughter bright and freeing, and in that dance, the weight of distant battlefields began to fall away. Here, with you, he found his peace, his heart beating in time with the pulse of the city outside, resonating with the promise of a future that you would both build together.

Under the dimmed glow of the room, your movements eventually slowed until Bucky found himself holding you close, allowing the moment to seep into his very bones. Whatever lay ahead, he knew was the beginning - a continuation of the dance that had started long ago beneath a different sky, renewed with hope and the unbreakable bond that you shared. “Here’s to a thousand dances,” Bucky whispered softly, sealing the vow with another promise that would lead you both into your shared tomorrow. And in that quiet embrace, you both found closure and beginning, inextricably interwoven in the warmth of Brooklyn’s gentle night.

#marvel fic #soft bucky #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #40s #40s bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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