#I can appreciate him being a mess. you should learn to too! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedbybarnes · 1 month

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anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #mcu #inkedbybarnes

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inklore · 1 year

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code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good.

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses.

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another.

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach.

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days.

A girl can dream.

And she has. Embarrassingly.

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God.

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity.

Gratefulness.

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you?

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings.

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel.

He was always there.

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time.

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before.

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks.

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over.

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped."

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone."

"Hey! I could punch someone."

"Could and would are two different things."

"You sayin I couldn’t?"

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t."

"Not tough enough?"

"Your heart's too big."

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured."

"I’m shaking in my boots."

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn. On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch."

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?"

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel."

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?"

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out.

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red.

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully.

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts.

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll.

"Don’t alert the press."

"Oh, they’ve already been informed."

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky.

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting.

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink.

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight."

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him.

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin.

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money."

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be.

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say.

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had.

Joel Miller was a good man.

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know.

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma.

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind.

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good."

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle.

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke.

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks.

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now.

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?"

"A what—pity kiss?"

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?"

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?"

"Exactly."

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath.

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate.

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement.

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks.

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his.

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders.

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one.

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him.

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you.

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl.

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers.

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now.

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can.

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth.

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs.

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence.

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked.

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?"

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously." There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken.

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up.

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis.

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes.

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging.

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth.

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center.

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection.

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you."

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are."

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises.

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag.

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back.

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight.

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel.

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock.

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after.

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though."

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully.

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal fics #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction

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audaciousacolyte · 7 months

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Could I request Sonic x Reader where they were childhood friends and now are dating several years down the line? 👉👈

Best friend boyfriend

Sonic the hedgehog x Childhood friend!reader

《|| AN: Heya!! Terribly sorry for the long wait, I've been cooking up quite a few little treats that I think that all of you will enjoy!! That being said the following headcanons are based on my own, personal thoughts on sonic as a whole. I hope you enjoy!!! ||》

FLUFF (Pre-crush)

◇| As many of us know, Sonic the hedgehog is the coolest guy around.

◇| Whether he’s rolling around at the speed of sound (Haha), or fighting off Dr.Eggman, he’ll be having a blast and a half doing it.

◇| I’d think that sonic met you while on one of his many adventures, probably around the same time he first met Knuckles or Amy. Maybe he saved you from a badnik attack? Or maybe you popped up to try and stop the mad doctor yourself?

◇| However the two of you met, He’s ecstatic to have another buddy to horse around with! (He wouldn’t admit it though, (mostly because he can’t) but also because he has an emotionally unavailable bad boy image to maintain!)

◇| Be prepared for him to drag you along on all of his adventures, because once the two of you are friends, he’s going to mess around and have fun with you whether you like it or not!!

(Post Crush)

◇♡| Sonic is, and will likely continue to be, incredibly emotionally evasive. This boy can, will and has run from his feelings like they were coming to drag him to the very bottom of the ocean.

♡◇| Seriously, he runs from his demons like nobody’s business. And you and I are VERY well aware of how fast sonic can run.

◇♡| When he DOES eventually begin to consider the thought that MAYBE he likes you more than a friend should, Sonic gets…well, not nervous exactly, but definitely a bit WEARY around you. Probably tries to play it “cool” (or cool-er, I guess) around you, but usually ends up making a complete fool of himself

♡◇| (It’s fine though, you usually just laugh it off or play it down to spare his pride. He REALLY appreciates it.)

◇♡| He likely only begins to acknowledge his feelings after he meets Elise during the (very confusing) events of Sonic ‘06. (And also because Tails keeps teasing him about his (BIG, FAT, VERY OBVIOUS) little crush)

◇♡| Genuinely has no clue what he’s supposed to do with this information. He’ll probably just…sit on the fact that he likes you like that for a while. (And then go to Amy or Rouge for help, because what else is he supposed to do?)

♡| You are going to have to make the first move. Full stop.

♡| Sonic may be impulsive and quick on the uptake, but he’s got NEGATIVE ZERO relationship experience. He is out of his depth already with this crush, he’s not about to confess to someone he’s known for practically half his life at this point.

(Post dating)

♡| MASSIVE FLIRT, he will tease and fluster you FOR AGES. he WILL NOT get tired of it, EVER.

♡| (However, If you flirt back, he’ll turn into a flushed red mess… he can dish it out, but he sure can’t take it!)

♡| REALLY likes holding your hand, he finds it soothing to know that you’re never too far away from him while out and about. Sonic probably also plays with your fingers a lot as well.

♡| ADVENTURE DATES,ADVENTURE DATES,ADVENTURE DATES

♡| I feel like Sonic would probably do stupid shit in front of you to show off.

♡| He has done ENTIRE CHOREOGRAPHED ACROBATIC ROUTINES while fighting eggman’s mechs when you were around as a way to showboat. (Nobody knows where he learned to do this, but it worked way too well for anybody to complain.(Eggman was so confused that he just…stopped functioning for a hot minute. He genuinely did not know what to do))

♡| Will do stupid little victory dances on Badniks for no reason other than to see you smile.

♡| Loves, loves, LOVES when you are goofy with him. It’s just so endearing to him!

♡| Please, for the love of all that is holy, play with his quills when y’all are cuddling!! He may say he hates it because it messes up his ‘do, but he actually loves it! (he does get a bit freaked out when you don’t do it though. He thinks that he did something to upset you if you don’t mess with his quills and will frantically try to “win” your love back or something)

#sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog #Bright blue hero

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 5 months

Text

A New Tradition [Sebek Zigvolt]

You had never seen Sebek look this serious in your life.

And that said a lot, considering you’d known him all throughout your years in NRC and a few years into his adult life where you had subsequently dated. Sebek was a partner who regarded romance with an intensity that was unsurprising yet appreciated. He made every date special, even in tiny ways, he remembered significant days in your relationship without needing to be reminded, he tried to be as open with his communication as possible (which still resulted in fumbling, as he couldn’t always accurately define the emotions he was feeling). Either way, you could see the intense look of concentration on his face now after your request.

You had hesitated on asking him to participate in a Christmas tradition as you had correctly guessed it wasn’t something he really cared for. He was part human, and his dad celebrated it a bit, but had always left it up to Sebek on if he wanted to join. Sebek’s mother was far more interested in the little holiday traditions, helping his father set up the glass tree he took from the attic every year (it caused little mess, and was still customizable enough that they could change out the decorations on it). There was an exchanging of presents that always included Sebek, and as an adult he felt the need to give back as well, but that was the extent of his interaction with the holiday. His mother always seemed to light up the night before, excited as she looked at the colorful wrapping paper around her presents and mused on what they might be. Sebek couldn’t help but consider it a tradition that was more his parents than his, as they seemed more disgustingly in love on that day compared to every other day of the year (and they were pretty much always openly affectionate, so that was saying something).

Sebek was far too aware of the change of energy as he answered your question, the disappointed look being a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment but he noticed. He knew when your smile was forced, that you were simply not making him to do something he didn’t want to, and he had always appreciated the side of you that was understanding. He had come to learn that relationships had a give and take, that as stubborn as he could be there were moments he had to yield to you because it was truly not a serious enough issue that an argument should continue on. And it’s not like he was anti-human tradition, he had to nix that when he started dating one a few years ago, so there was no reason he couldn’t agree to making your own personalized tradition like his parents had.

“I want to… I’ll decorate with you,” Sebek finally stated, regarding the tree he had just pulled into your home. He was still on his knees in front of it, having arranged the skirt around the bottom as you had directed, so now the green pine stood proud at the center of your dining room. “The tree. We can find something in the nearby shops to put on them… I heard there are enchantments that make the lights change color, or sparkle, whichever you’d like…”

He was talking to himself more than you now, seeming to think of all the way he could make this unique for the two of you to enjoy. The thought of a shopping trip was an exciting one, especially when you knew Sebek was thinking of human tradition alternatives that might be found in the fae world; you’d never enchanted a tree before but you wondered what kind of magical baubles might be in the shops, just waiting to find a loving home.

“Ah! But, I do have a rule.”

Sebek tilted his head in acknowledgement despite staying in his thinking pose, to let you know he was listening.

“Do not bring an ornament into this house with Malleus’ face on it.” Sebek went to open his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together on his head, a retort on the tip of his tongue when you cut him off again, “Not a tree topper, either!”

Sebek huffed, arms crossed as he wondered what other way he might make tribute to Malleus on the tree without you noticing.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Scenario

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bookofbonbon · 5 months

Text

strut: in the snow - coriolanus snow.

Characters: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Summary: Secrets are discovered, deals bartered and announcements made.

Word Count: 800+

A/N: Curious if this will make people regret their choice on the poll lol.

Your employee file proves to be almost entirely useless to Coriolanus; though the file was thick, the majority of it had been redacted, large chunks of information scrubbed out in thick, black, blocks. He learned part of it was because of Capitol laws that had come into place to prevent the exploitation of child labour; not that that had done anything to protect you.

The other part being your participation in highly classified projects that required the highest levels of security clearance to gain access too, information that wouldn’t be lying around in a regular old employee file in the back of the Archives.

Your file was a mess quite frankly and clearly no one had bothered to do a thorough check of it, only adding in new pieces of information as required.

Almost entirely useless but, still he’d learn three things of high value about you:

You had been in the Capitol for as long as Sejanus and the Plinth family however, judging from the photograph attached to your file, even longer - something told Coriolanus the photograph had been an oversight and should not have been in your file.

You’d been officially employed by the War Department at 15, primarily working in the Capitol’s Experimental Weapons Division under Dr. Volumnia Gaul - doing what? He was unsure.

Four years later, you’d transfer out of the Experimental Weapons Division - almost immediately after Sejanus’s death - remaining in The War Department but now, in the private sector of Munitions and under the tutelage of your uncle; coming out of the shadows and making yourself known to Capitol society - Coriolanus just couldn’t figure out why; there had to be more to it than just him.

Despite the limited and missing pieces of information however, Coriolanus was able to put one important truth together: Strabo Plinth was once notoriously known for his refusal to supply The Capitol with munitions in The First Rebellion. His stance however, had taken an unexpected and dramatic turn as he began to supply The Capitol with military weapons in droves. None knew what caused the sudden change of heart in stubborn Strabo Plinth but many assumed it was the first-class ticket it bought the Plinth family to Capitol Citizenship - given his new discoveries, Coriolanus knew that this was not the case, it had something to do with you.

It's what brings him to the door of Strabo Plinth’s office in the early hours of the morning. Strutting past the older man, the threat you posed to Coriolanus and his claim to the Plinth Munitions Empire; that loomed largely over him was about to grow smaller as he prepared to leverage his newly discovered secrets (and ambiguous claims) about you to his advantage and bring you to heel.

Your footsteps are hard and heavy, striking loudly against the marbled floors and echoing throughout the empty university hallway. Most students had gone home for the day and the sun was long gone from the sky - not that you noticed, eyes focused only on the ballistics report in your hands; you had been waiting for it in anxious anticipation all day and finally it confirmed what you already knew to be true.

So, focused however, you don’t notice the figure creeping in the shadows until she makes herself known-

“Trapped in the Snow, she is- trapped in the Snow and she doesn’t even know, she is trapped in the Snow and she doesn’t even know there is nowhere she can…”

Go, you think, but don’t say it aloud.

“Volumnia,” you close the file, not appreciating what sounded to be a veiled threat. “I hope you’re not still upset about me killing the upgrades to your laboratory. I’m sure you can understand why it had to be done.”

She laughs her usually maniacal laugh, quietly, her hands pressed together as if she knows something you don’t.

It unsettles you in ways it had never done before.

- and she doesn’t even know -

You straighten your back, all senses on high alert - something was wrong, something was very wrong.

“Come to kill me like you did my cousin,” you eye her wearily, waiting for her to pull one of her mutts out from one of the many pockets of her clinical looking dress.

She laughs again, louder this time.

“You insult me, Miss Plinth, you know very well that I prefer to take my enemies out in a spectacle,” she tuts at you.

“So then why are you here? You never just show up somewhere, there’s always a reason.”

“There is always a reason,” she repeats with a smile and speaking in rhyme. “Why I only came to congratulate you on the new season… he only just told me a few moments ago, so glad I am, to be one of the first to know - given the role I have played in your life, it seemed only right I congratulate the soon to be wife .”

“Who? What are you…” you trail off, blood draining from your face. “What are you talking about?’

She smiles wide, all her teeth showing.

“Your engagement of course, to Coriolanus-

- and she doesn’t even know she is trapped in the -

Snow.”

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow x reader #coryo snow #tom blyth

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saffyspirals · 1 year

Text

— lovesick.

[in which you miss your boyfriend terribly. and kaiser misses you more.]

❥ fandom: blue lock

❥ pairing: m. kaiser x reader

❥ warning(s): lovesick kaiser missing his girlfriend may come across as ooc?

❥ notes: first blue lock post! i love can tolerate this man, so i thought i’d write a little something for him :)

imagine a lovesick kaiser.

it’s your first serious fight, but the event is all a big jumbled up mess in his mind. all he knows for sure is that it’s been a week since you’ve started giving him the cold shoulder. seven whole days since you’d cruelly sentenced him to sleep in his own apartment instead of yours. it’s difficult for him to sleep on his own, especially after growing accustomed to sharing a bed with you.

from this experience, kaiser’s learned that if there’s anything he despises (other than those OG blue lock clowns who think they can beat him), it’s fighting with you. he’s sick of it, but doesn’t know how to reach out. rejection is a new feeling for him. how exactly do ordinary people deal with it?

no touching, no talking, no holding, no kissing. it’s worse than being benched (…not that he knows what that feels like. prodigies like kaiser can only imagine).

kaiser receives a call after being away from you for eight nights. he’d been teetering between reality and dreamland when his phone had started to ring. his eyes, heavy with sleep, don’t bother to look at who’s calling. he swipes to answer after the ringtone loops twice.

“…hello?”

“kaiser?”

you sound almost as exhausted as he feels. kaiser shuffles until he’s sitting up.

“i um…didn’t expect you to answer, actually.”

“you’re happy i did though, right?”

“yeah.”

his heart tightens with anticipation once things grow quiet on your end. he knows how you work. you think, process, and then make your move.

“come home. i miss you.”

kaiser shuffles some more. this time, he’s getting out of bed, and shrugging on a jacket over his shirt. he puts you on speaker as he puts on some shoes.

“i’m on my way.”

he wonders if he should pick a little something up for you on the way.

“don’t bring anything. i just need you.” you’re his little mind reader. kaiser chuckles.

“i’ve got it, darling. just hold on.”

you make him promise to stay on the line, as he makes the journey over (but it’s not as if he’d hang up now after finally getting to hear you address him after so long).

he can’t help himself, though, from stopping by the corner shop to purchase your favourite drink. you curse him now (“you’re taking too long!”), but he knows you’ll appreciate it a little later on in the day, once you’ve had a good night’s sleep and talked things out.

kaiser knows you.

later, when he enters your apartment through the unlocked door, it’s like an instant cure for his (love) sickness. he’s home, and he feels it with his entire being.

#michael kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock oneshots #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #bllk x you #blue lock #blue lock x you #bllk drabble #saffy x blue lock

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crevicedwelling · 4 months

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i have a question about bugs. bugses. most of what i know about wild animals is about mammals. and i know if you see a wild mammal in the wild you should not approach it or try to pet or feed it, you should just leave it alone. and i applied this idea to basically every animal. but i see you (and other blogs i follow) occasionally handle insects you see in the wild, like have them on your hand. how is that okay? i want to do it too now... (only if i know the species is not dangerous ofc) but does it not stress out the bug, being handled?

of course it stresses the bug out & I have some long post where I talk about this & related issues, but when you see me handling and messing with wild bugs (or even my pet ones, it’s not like captive insects are domesticated or tame) I weigh how badly I want/need to do that versus the outcomes on the animal:

I consider these questions:

does the animal need help immediately?

will handling hurt the animal even if I don’t intend it?

can anyone learn from handling this? (myself, others I’m with, followers online)

handling wild cockroach briefly for a photo? not necessary, but a good educational experience & helps others enjoy a creature they might not otherwise. she fluttered away a second later unharmed. I didn’t pick up any others of the same species that night since I already got my selfish wish to Hold Beast: the rest can be left alone.

picking up Alfonso because I need to clean his bark slab? yep, that should be fine, I’ll set him down in a moment & grab a photo first

picking up a Tenodera mantis? it’ll not be super thrilled with it but they often chill out in a matter of minutes and treat my hand like a branch. if not and it’s trying to attack or flee constantly, I’ll let it leave.

picking up a frog/slug/snail? probably not ok unless you’re moving it across a path or just holding it very briefly. their slime coat reacts poorly to human hand secretions.

in many cases your instincts are right: leave the animal alone. but I think it is worth it to handle a creature if doing so can help it or if doing so can help people appreciate it more without incurring a cost to the animal’s health.

#bug ethics

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sinsandsweetness · 8 months

Text

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @virtualreader @lust4lovee @fanngirl19 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37 @dylanisstilladumbass @dixonslvr @aangelbabysworld

taglist form is in my pinned post- let me know if I’m missing you<3

#drunk tank #Daryl Dixon x reader #Shane Walsh x reader #shane walsh x y/n #Daryl Dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #Shane Walsh x you

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gotham-daydreams · 8 months

Note

Fun fact: Dick used to play guitar and is still fairly good at it. Jason has an Electric guitar in his old room at the Wayne manor. Stephanie quit playing the piano but she can still the basics, and Damian plays violin.

Im not sure if it's completely right, but if it was, how would that go with the whole reader being a musician thing?

Ohhh that's interesting! I actually didn't know that before, but that's cool! (Jason definitely seems like the type to pick up an electrical guitar.)

If it was completely right I'd say that they'd probably have the reader play with them, or have the reader teach them how to play again/how they can improve. (Since again, the reader can play multiple instruments.) Though of course by 'have' I mean force.

Dick in particular would definitely always try to have a duet of some kind, or constantly suggest that hey, they should make their own song together! At least he asks even if he'll visibly sadden if the reader says any variation of 'no', but Damian does not. He will just barge in on whatever the reader is doing and either force them to listen to him play, and say how well he did, and or also force them to play with him. (Kind of like how he'll be with the whole art thing.)

Even if Jason doesn't play anymore, I think he'd kind of use it as a "oh, I used to do that too" sort of thing so he can bond with the reader more. (In theory.) He might pick it back up, but would heavily 'appreciate' lessons so he can refine his skill again, and maybe even become a lot better than he used to be, who knows?

Stephanie I feel is less forceful, and seeing as she did quit she'd probably prefer to listen to the reader's music than play with them, but she wouldn't necessarily mind if they played a simple duet either. Sure, she might be a little rusty but... if the reader's willing to help then she won't turn them down.

All in all, suddenly they're as interested in music as the reader is, and are definitely going to use it to bond with them in any way they can manage. With some being a 'bit' forceful when it comes to their attempts, compared to others.

Which may or may not 'ruin' music for the reader, or at least certain sounds for them. Since they'll begin to associate certain instruments and such with certain people, and, well, that definitely doesn't begin to mess them up after a while. No wayyyy.

Oh! Also, the other remaining members of the family might either feel compelled to learn an instrument, or just want to listen to you play that much more. Tim would at least think about picking up an instrument, same with Babs, and Bruce would join Alfred in listening. (Though lets be honest, Bruce can probably play something too.) Cass would probably do a bit of both if she can help it.

Expect the Batfam to be very interested in music suddenly, with them either asking for lessons or to play with you, or patiently waiting for you to play so that they can listen.

#talking daydreams #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #gn reader #sibling reader #platonic yandere #yandere dc

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izukuisbaby · 2 years

Text

⊹˚.⋆ SHOPPING HEADCANONS - MY HERO ACADEMIA

୭ flora's notes : this wasn't planned but I'm on vacation and izuku owns my heart, I couldn't stop thinking about him when I bought clothes 😔✋🏼

୭ female reader/ male reader and gn reader friendly 💓

m.list | comment and reblog if u enjoyed !

⊹˚.⋆ IZUKU MIDORIYA

℘. he insists on tagging along with you on your shopping trips. he just loves to feel useful and wants to give his opinion on what you try on !

℘. and he's honest too ! if something looks bad on you he will nicely tell you : "I think this doesn't flatter your body well enough", "you should try another colour baby ! I've seen you wear this one before and you looked stunning/handsome !"

℘. and if one of your clothes fits you well expect a SHOWER of compliments "Y/N THAT'S THE ONE, this looks so good on you and the colour definitely lightens up your face. YOU LOOK SO CUTE oh my god" and he would be a blushing mess🥰

℘. learns about your colorimetria so he can pick clothes for you to try on or as gifts !

⊹˚.⋆ KATSUKI BAKUGO

℘. you have to DRAG him to the shopping centre because he hates being around a lot of people. he says they are impolite, careless and disrespectful and he would throw a tantrum if one dares slightly push him to get to a display.

℘. is grumpy the whole time : "hurry up goddamn it, you take 3 hours to undress I'd better get in there and remove your clothes myself", "tf is that granny outfit, who in their right mind would sell that", "this colour makes you look like you're gonna throw up your guts dumbass, get rid of it"

℘. when something suits you, he will very discretely smile and his eyes will sparkle,

"looks good i guess, take it"

"you sure, you don't seem convinced katsu ?"

"MOTHERFUCKING TAKE IT"

⊹˚.⋆ SHOTO TODOROKI

℘. "sho, you're not supposed to come in the fitting room while i change !"

"oh, I'm sorry y/n i thought it was okay since i already saw you naked"

"SHO- I mean technically you're right but you could AT LEAST close the curtain, I wouldn't want everyone to see my underwear"

℘. yeah shoto opens the curtain WIDE instead of asking if you're dressed or not. to him, the world stops when you two are together and he only sees you. so of course he wouldn't notice the 20 other people around you in the fitting area, who can now see your fully exposed body

℘. shoto apologizes and is even more of a blushing mess than izuku at this point AND he pays for your stuff (rich bf shoto💥💳💥💳💥)

℘. he is whipped and biased, he thinks everything looks good on you so he isn't of much help but he is a huge support and compliments you a lot♡

℘. ... you'd have to call Mina to actually get advice though -

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orionchildofhades · 9 months

Text

steddie soulmate au, swapping bodies once in a while after a certain age part 1

and i can wait for you

part 1 | part 2 | Ao3

---

eddie cannot wait, he has always loved the idea of soulmates, of someone, be it platonic or romantic, meant for him, just as he was meant for them. he loved to know that someone, out there, in the big bad world, would accept him for himself. he clinged to it after his parents disposed of him, after his father went far far away once his mother passed from a disease no one had bother naming for him.

of course he had heard of people without soulmates, or of those who didn't get along like they should, or disagreed too strongly on some matters that they couldn't look at the other.

but eddie refused to believe he would be one of them, because then, the universe would really hate him, wouldn't it? because eddie, at least until Wayne, had no one. nobody by his side. the universe would make it all alright by giving him a soulmate that would love him. he knew it. he had to.

because what else could he do when he had been alone, scared in some shitty apartment where the electricity had been cut out for days, and not a soul had stepped through the doors for just as long. when the cops barged in, carried him out and told him he wouldn't be seeing his dad anymore, when he was left with a man he had never met before and been told this would be his new life.

so Eddie hopped and waited, patient, alone. but he had Wayne to tell him stories. tales about his own soulmate, Patricia. She was german, tall, and lived on the road, driving through Europe in her big truck just like Wayne had done for years through the states. they never met, but both agreed that their life was too much of a mess, too much moving, too much distant, to try and connect. they had their lives, they adored each other but as soulmates goes, there was nothing more than deep, platonic care for one another.

the first time Eddie met Patricia had been wild.he had woken from nightmare with a jerk, finding waynes too smiley face above him, all soft eyes and laugh lines out, and he flinched so hard he fell on the floor. she had apologized, they both had laughed. it was all fine and well. they spent the day cooking after that. Patricia, using Waynes body so differently than her soulmate, had cleaned and complained, reassured the young boy that she loved doing it and seeing what wayne had done with his life, that complaining, for the pair of them, was a way to show that they cared. she introduced him to the lord of the rings for the very first time.

so he waited and hoped until his fifteen birthday, he waited and listened to stories, to Patricia who told him in hushed tones in front of the trailer while hanging the laundry to dry, about soulmates who were not woman and man, about same gender couples, she told him about things he would hear but shouldn't listen to. and he listened to people ar school saying things that went the other way around. about the way the universe sometime made mistake and how gross and terrible it was.

but eddie did not care, he just wanted his soulmate.

the say he turned fifteen, he was buzzing. waiting desperately for it. he might not meet his soulmate now, he was young and couldn't afford to travel, but he could learn to know them, little things about their lives that built the soulmate he was meant to have. and Wayne kept repeating that he shouldn't get his hopes up.

Eddie knew, of course, that soulmates might not swap immediately. his soulmate could be younger, and swapping came at random. once he had not seen Patricia and her soft accent for almost six month before she was there again, and then she spent three days by his side, laughing loudly about how much Wayne would appreciate the time on the rainy roads of southern England.

and he waited and waited some more while he saw peers around him behaving strangely before they announced being the soulmate. there was a girl once who started spatting japanese at a teacher's face when he kept asking about her homework. and Eddie waited.

#idk how long or when im gonna be posting this #but here #it came to me in a vision #steddie #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #steve x eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #steddie ficlet #stranger things ficlet #steddie soulmate au #they swap bodies #orionwritesthingies

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sebastianstanisahotmf · 5 months

Text

Grinch

Tony Stark x reader

A/N I'm so sorry for being so unorganised I thought something like this would be easy but I realised that it takes a ridiculous amount of planning so next time when I do an event like this I'll plan it for a couple more weeks in advance, but at least I can learn from this mistake. The last few fics for my 100 followers celebration SHOULD be coming out over the next few days so thank you for your patience. Also, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary Tony is a bit of a Grinch and you plan to change it

DO NOT REPOST ONTO ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff

Christmas wasn’t Tony’s favourite time of year, if anything he hated it. It wasn’t hard to understand since he had spent many years alone as each day bled into another with the drink, drugs and women.

However, you were determined to get Tony into the Christmas spirit this year. The first step of your plan was to take him shopping for decorations.

“Come on Tony, stop being such a grinch, we're going shopping whether you like it or not,” you told him with your arms crossed.

“I can just get F.R.I.D.A.Y to order them for us,” he retorted with a pout on his face.

You walked over to him and kissed his pouty lips, “It will be fun babe, I promise,” you gave him the sweetest smile you could conjure.

“Fine, only because I love you,” he responded, kissing you again.

“And I love you too,” you grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out the door.

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

“What do you think of these baubles?” you asked Tony.

“They look good, they’ll go with the tree,” he replied.

Tony wasn’t ready to admit it, but he had started getting into the Christmas spirit. He was starting to enjoy this shopping spree that he almost didn’t join you on.

“We’ll get these then,” you put them in the basket with a smile on your face.

You noticed Tony’s new interest in the decorations which was unexpected but made you happy.

“I think that’s it for this shop,” you walked over to the till and Tony emptied the basket.

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

Two hours of shopping later, you were back home with countless bags spread across the living room.

“Please can you help me decorate?” you asked Tony.

You walked over to him and sat in his lap, “Pleeeease.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “You owe me,” he told you with a playful smirk.

You smiled and grabbed his hand. You took him over to the tree you put up in the corner of the living room and handed Tony a box of baubles.

“Put them anywhere you think it looks good,” you told him.

He raised his eyebrow, “really?”

“Yeah. I’m aware that I’m a perfectionist on everything else but I promise decorating the tree is supposed to be fun, not perfect.”

You both took baubles out of the box and put them on the branches. Around 40 minutes -and a lot of messing around- you were finished.

“Oh shit,” you exclaimed.

“What?” Tony asked, concerned.

“We forgot to put the lights on the tree.”

Tony looked at the tree and then at the lights on the floor, “I could still get them on, I’ll just have to be careful,” With that, Tony picked up the string of lights and carefully put them around the tree.

Once he was finished, he pulled back to look at the tree but had knocked five baubles off in doing so.

“Shit!” he shouted which made you laugh, “It’s not funny,” he told you whilst trying to hold in his laugh.

“I think it looks amazing babe,” you said.

“Me too, but I’m tired. We can finish decorating tomorrow, ” Tony feinforced this with the fakest yawn you've ever seen.

“Seems like it,” you grabbed the other decorations and put them in a box ready for the next day.

Then, Tony got onto the couch and started to flick through the channels on the tv before deciding to look through Netflix.

You walked over to Tony and smiled at his concentrated face.

He looked up at you and mentioned with a smirk on his face, “You owe me still.”

“What do I owe you Tones?” you didn’t know what answer to expect since Tony was so unpredictable.

“You owe me cuddles on the couch while we watch the Grinch,” he said, grabbing a blanket and shuffling back on the couch.

“One, you are the Grinch and two, that sounds fair,” you replied, smiling and getting onto the couch. Tony just rolled his eyes in response.

You shuffled back so Tony was spooning you and his chin was resting on your head. He threw the blanket over you and kissed your head. You both stayed like that until you fell asleep.

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Taglist:@nicoline1998enilocin, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @kandis-mom, @nekoannie-chan

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wisewolfprince · 2 years

Text

Wizarding World ➵ Nsfw Alphabet

ʚ character ɞ harry james potter x nb!reader

ʚ warnings ɞ mentions of sex and sexual preferences, breeding, unprotected sex, use of sex toys, masturbation, etc.

ʚ notes ɞ this was surprisingly really fun to write! my inbox is open to anyone who would like to request specific characters or nsfw prompts. i'll be writing nsfw alphabets for most of the HP characters eventually. reblogs/favourites are greatly appreciated <33 (all characters written are 18+!!)

A = Aftercare (What happens after sex?)

Harry LOVES to cuddle with you after sex, he absolutely craves the skin on skin contact and doesn't care in the slightest if you're both sweaty or half asleep already. He'll place gentle kisses on your skin wherever he can touch and murmur how great you were into your ear just to put your mind at ease.

B = Bodyparts (Their favourite part of you)

Harry absolutely adores your thighs. He's definitely a thigh fucker. It doesn't matter how big or small your thighs are, he'll grab them whenever he gets the chance. He loves laying his head on your thighs, sometimes even going as far as biting/marking them when he's between your thighs. Overall he's just completely infatuated with your thighs!

C = Cum (And anything to do with it)

He tends to try and avoid being messy most of the time BUT sometimes he just can't help himself when you're so willing to let him fill you up or even cum all over you. He loves watching you swallow and lick up his cum after he orgasms, it turns him on so much just to think about it. He may not look like it but he has A LOT of cum to share so be aware of the potential mess it could make.

D = Desires (What sexual fantasies do they have?)

I wouldn't say that Harry is the kinkiest person ever but he certainly has a few fantasies he'd like to try with you someday. He's particularly fond of the idea of fucking you on/over his desk at work, the risk of being caught by anyone walking past his office would drive him crazy in the best way possible and it's one of those "I shouldn't be doing this but it feels so good" type of scenarios. You should definitely visit him at work more often.

E = Experience (Do they know what they're doing?)

Harry isn't as experienced as you'd expect the "chosen one" to be — sure, he's practically the most famous person in the wizarding world but he's quite traditional and often misunderstands flirting for friendliness. I'd say he probably only slept with 1-3 people prior to meeting you but he makes sure to communicate with you and loves learning what you like and dislike, he takes personal pride in making you orgasm.

F = Favourite Position (What do they like?)

He's definitely a missionary type of guy. He loves the intimacy that comes with it and he especially loves being able to see your reaction to his thrusts not to mention how easier it is to kiss you this way. As I've mentioned before, he CRAVES skin on skin even after sex so this is certainly a win-win for him. Even if he's just grinding against you or getting you off, he loves being on top of you while he does it.

G = Goofy (How serious are they during sex?)

Harry tends to take sex a little more seriously than others but that doesn't mean he can't have a laugh once in a while. Sometimes he'll find himself giggling if you two accidentally bump foreheads with each other or if one of you makes a particularly amusing or unusual noise. He'd never laugh at anything you could consider to be embarrassing but he loves the little moments where you both pause to giggle at each other when something amusing does happen in the moment. Not taking yourselves too seriously is what truly makes sex all the more enjoyable.

H = Hair (How groomed are they?)

Harry isn't much of a groomer because it's virtually impossible to constantly manage his hair growth, even with the help of magical potions. He's quite hairy in the 'downstairs department' and has a quite impressive snail-trail but he does make efforts to keep himself clean and manageable for you. In addition to this, he doesn't have any qualms about your hair growth either and tends to enjoy the more natural look anyway, as long as you're comfortable w/ it.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they during sex?)

Harry can be very romantic during sex when he needs to be, sometimes it can feel clinical if you're both busy and don't have time to put in anymore effort but he always tries to go out of his way to make an impression on you. He goes all out during holidays like valentines day or your birthday, decorating the room with candles and rose petals, setting up a warm bubble bath that you both can share and enjoy yourselves in. Sometimes he'll involve different foods like whipped cream, chocolate sauce, different fruits to eat off each other but his biggest romantic gesture is his praise. He loves telling you how good you feel, how proud he is of you and how well you're doing, etc. Anything to make you feel good.

J = Jacking Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

It depends on the week he's having to be honest and also if you're available to help him with his needs. If the week has been difficult and or stressful, he tends to masturbate between 2/3 times a week. That seems to be his average, but it can fluctuate.

K = Kinks (Things they get sexual pleasure from)

As I've mentioned before, Harry isn't the kinkiest of people but he does have his fair share of quirks. His most riskiest kink would have to be breeding, it just drives him crazy to think of filling you up with his cum, watching it drip out and getting a rush from the lack of protection, even if it can't result in pregnancy. He also loves the risk of being caught, although he tends to be quite conservative sometimes he gets the chance to have sex with you at an inappropriate time, again the idea of someone catching the two of you in the heat of the moment drives him crazy in the best way.

L = Location (How adventurous are they?)

Harry isn't very adventurous when it comes to sex but sometimes, if the moment allows, he can be quite spontaneous. The riskiest place he'd fuck you is at his office, or in the bathroom at a friends house. The idea of having to be secretive and quick to avoid being caught is something that turns him on greatly.

M = Motivation (How high is their sex drive?)

I'd say that Harry has a moderate level sex drive, he wouldn't say no if you were to ask (unless it's at an inappropriate time or he's exhausted) but he also wouldn't be upset if neither of you had sex for a week or two, or even longer depending on the circumstances. It depends on how you're both feeling.

N = No (What are things they wouldn't do?)

Harry wouldn't do things that could seriously hurt either of you, in his eyes no amount of pleasure is worth risking your lives and safety. I'd say things that could restrict your breathing, cause scars/pain/blood as well as things that involve dubious-consent are all no-no's for him. He doesn't like hurting you or being hurt either.

O = Oral (What are their preferences?)

Harry wouldn't say no to receiving but he'd have some worries about giving, as long as you're communicating with him and being vocal about what feels good and what doesn't then he'll feel a lot better. When he's in the mood for it — he's REALLY in the mood for it, he'll slurp and lick and swirl his tongue all day long. Sometimes he'll use his hands if you're needing more stimulation but most of the time his tongue is good enough to use. He also loves when you go down on him, he likes the feeling of being deep-throated but he wouldn't force you to do it if you're not comfortable.

P = Pace (Do they prefer to be fast or slow?)

Harry prefers to use a slower and deeper pace but he isn't afraid to go faster or harder when you ask for it — sometimes in the heat of the moment he uses his initiative to decide what would be best, but he'll often ask you how you want it. "want me to go faster, baby?" etc. He tends to try and be as gentle as possible.

Q = Quickies (Do they do this and if so how often?)

Harry enjoys quickies but only when he's in the mood to do something a little more riskier. For example, if you're at his office or in the bathroom, he'd take pleasure in having a quickie with you to see how fast he can make you cum without getting caught and vice versa. He can get quite competitive sometimes.

R = Risks (Are they up for experimentation?)

As I've mentioned before, he does like a bit of risk when it comes to sex but not all the time. He's definitely up for experimenting with you but there are things he will be unwilling to try. He would ask you about your boundaries beforehand and make sure to respect your decisions as you should with his own. I think he'd be interested in trying different positions, different methods of dirty-talking and even trying out a few different toys.

S = Stanima (How long can they last?)

Harry tends to finish between 5-15 minutes, his average would likely be around 5-7 minutes depending on the circumstances. If you're both trying to be quick for whatever reason you have then it's likely to last between 3-5 minutes. If you're both trying to last longer then it can reach upwards of 30 minutes to an hour (although most of this would be spent on foreplay and exploring each other)

T = Toys (Do they use them and if so what are they?)

Harry would be open to using toys like vibrators, dildos (although nothing too big), he'd also be open to using some kind of wrist restraint like handcuffs or rope if he knew how to loosen or remove them. He'd also enjoy the use of a blindfold on special occasions.

U = Unfair (Do they tease or do they like to be teased?)

Harry isn't much of a teaser unless he's feeling particularly mischievous. He does get whiny and easily frustrated when you tease him, and he enjoys being teased over teasing you. His favourite kind of tease which he often inflicts upon himself is watching you change your clothes around him. He finds it hard to resist touching you when you're hardly wearing anything around him. If he wants to make himself last longer in bed, he tends to pull out before he can cum, which usually results in the two of you being teased/edged in the process.

V = Volume (How vocal are they during sex?)

Harry isn't the loudest when it comes to sex but he does get more vocal if he's in the privacy of his own home, he'll moan and whine if you encourage him but he loves to hear your voice and often doesn't want to intterupt your moans or words in the moment.

W = Wild Card (Random Nsfw Headcanon)

Harry definitely has a second favourite position which would be doggy-style. In this position he can absolutely lose control of himself, clinging onto your waist and hips whilst he feverishly pounds into you from behind. He wants to be as close to you as possible, even in this position, so he often ends up hunching over to hold you from behind, moaning and whimpering into your ear and occasionally biting/marking your back and shoulders.

X = X-Ray (What do they like to wear?)

Harry tends to wear loose fitting boxers instead of tight fitting ones, however during sex he likes to wear little to nothing unless he needs you so bad he can't be bothered to take off his clothes.

Y = Yearning (How long can they go without sex?)

Harry can go weeks without sex, months even if there's a reason why you can't participate. Although he enjoys having sex with you, if you're unable to participate and explain why (if he doesn't already know) then he'll respect your decision. If neither of you have sex for extended periods of time, he'll just masturbate.

Z = Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep after?)

Harry tends to fall asleep quicker if the two of you are able to cuddle after sex but it doesn't drain him completely. Sometimes he'll stay awake to talk to you, or if it happens during the day he'll take a nap if it's absolutely necessary. But generally speaking he can stay awake after sex for hours depending on the circumstances.

@ʷⁱˢᵉʷᵒˡᶠᵖʳⁱⁿᶜᵉ

#harry potter smut #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x you #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry james potter smut

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mouschiwrites · 5 months

Note

Ah can I request the ninja with a teammate that acts as an older brother

You sure can!

Ninjago - Ninjas With an Older Brother Figure

Kai

He’s used to playing the role of an older brother himself, so it throws him for a bit of a loop when he meets you

At first he’s a little wary

He thinks you’re trying to replace him

But once he realizes that you treat him like a little sibling too, he starts to come around to the idea of you

Surprisingly, he actually ends up liking you a lot

He finally gets to experience what he’s provided for others his whole life

It’s a huge weight off his shoulders; for the first time he feels like he doesn’t have to carry all the responsibility

He comes to you often with his troubles, taking full advantage of your relationship

(Not in a manipulative way)

He even asks for help when he needs it

He really does look up to you, and he’s grateful to have you in his life

He still carries a lot of responsibility though, no matter how much you might try to alleviate it

It’s just what he’s used to, I doubt you could convince him to change

Zane

He’s a little confused when he first meets you

He doesn’t know why you’re being so friendly towards the group, taking on the role of companion and mentor at the same time

He’s not complaining though, your presence seems to boost the others’ morale

One day you pull him aside and tell him that you’re there for him too if he should ever need anything

He just blinks at you, but after a moment he smiles

He won’t come to you at first, so you’ll have to come to him

Seeing you helping out with cleaning and sparring shows him that he really can trust you

He starts to come to you when he needs help with cleaning

One day, while you’re doing the dishes, he asks you for advice

You’re happy to help, of course

You’re also stoked that he finally trusts you like that

It becomes a bit of a tradition for you two; discussing life while you clean together

It helps Zane sort out his feelings

Though it took a while for you two to get that close, he’s really grateful to have a relationship like that in his life

Lloyd

He took to you straight away

Despite his mature nature, and as much as he likes to act grown up, he still feels like a kid inside

So he finds himself needing advice often

And to have someone like you, someone reliable who cares about him in an older-brotherly way, it’s no small comfort for him

He spends a lot of time with you, bombarding you with questions and always trying to learn something from you

Of course, he knows that you’re no sensei, but in a way that makes you more trustworthy

You’re closer to him than Wu or Garmadon, both in age and mentality

And he appreciates that it doesn’t always have to be a therapy session when he’s with you

He likes to mess around too, releasing that inner child

A sensei would never help him with pranks or buy comics; that’s another thing that makes you special to him

Overall you play a unique role in his life that he quickly grows attached to

After a while, he can’t even imagine a life without you

Jay

He’s not so receptive to the idea of an older brother

He’s a bit of a brat to you at first

He doesn’t accept your authority or wisdom; he doesn’t even see you as a friend

But when he finds himself in need of advice, he starts to regret the hostility between you two

Luckily you’re both forgiving and observant, so you come to him

He begrudgingly talks to you; you can hear the lingering apprehension in his voice, but you ignore it

You can see his face soften as you offer some advice and comfort

By the time you’re done speaking he’s actually smiling

He jumps up, hugging you tightly before running off to try out your suggestion

After that it’s like he forgot your rocky history together

He comes straight to you with the littlest problems

He usually just needs to vent, which is fine by you

It took him a while to warm up to you, but once he decides you’re okay he’s tied to you for life

Cole

When he first meets you, you guys get along pretty well

You’re more like friends in the beginning; Cole doesn’t really feel the need to come to you for advice

Mostly because he doesn’t trust you like that

So you just stay friends for a while

But after a while he starts to see the merits of your wisdom, so he tests the waters by asking little questions

When those questions lead you into deep conversations, that confirms it for him: you’re definitely a good source for advice

Mostly he just explores those deep topics with you though, learning what he can from the things you say

And it definitely helps that you guys usually have these conversations mid-hang out

So you’ll be working out or playing video games while talking

It certainly makes things more enjoyable for you both

Basically, your relationship is an even balance between deep talks and hanging out

Which Cole greatly appreciates, since he likes deep talks but at the same time doesn’t like to take things too seriously

So you’re the ideal companion :)

Nya

You’d think she’d be opposed to accepting you as an older brother figure, since she already has Kai

But you’re different from Kai

Kai might’ve been a rock in her life, but unfortunately he isn’t much one for advice

In the past when Nya needed advice, she’d have to go to Wu

His riddles were often confusing, leaving her more conflicted than before

But when she meets you, she finally has someone who will speak on her level

Someone who’s got more up to date wisdom, too

She likes to talk to you about her problems because she knows you’ll understand

Your wisdom is just more modern

Plus she likes that you speak to her like an equal, rather than a sensei

You’re just as open with her as she is with you

That’s another reason that she trusts you a lot

She’s glad to have Kai, but she’s also glad to have you :)

Thanks for this request! And thank you for reading, take care guys <33

(divider by saradika)

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rubynationwins · 2 years

Text

Wanna Be Yours

Sugar baby! Bucky Barnes x Plus size! Reader

Summary: You don’t have a problem letting Bucky see other people, but Bucky wants to tell you that you’re all he needs.

Main Masterlist

Warnings: angst, fluff, pining, jealous! bucky, dirty talk/thoughts, swearing, Bucky is in his mid-late 20s

Word Count: 2,816

A/N: I’m very excited to be posting a fic, I feel like it’s been forever since I last posted one! I’ve had this in my wips for quite a while now, but didn’t work on it because I felt guilty for not posting my other fics that are sequels/parts of series first. But those are still far from being done(I’ve kinda also been struggling w/ writing them oof), so I shifted gears and edited this one & feel very pleased w/ how it came out! I love this concept, and I hope you all are into this pairing/dynamic because it’s a little different than my others. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

You don’t keep Bucky – or James, as you call him – on a very short leash. You don’t want him to feel tied down when he’s at such a pivotal age for young, virile men like himself. He should be able to explore and enjoy his youth with partners he doesn’t feel obligated to be with. This isn’t your first sugar relationship, so you’re plenty aware that young men don’t want to only be with you; which is something you learned the hard way. It’s better to let them live their lives with predetermined rules instead of getting cheated on by men who don’t have the balls to tell you they need more than you have to offer.

So, with Bucky, you made your expectations clear from the start. He can sleep with whoever he wants as long as he’s safe, uses protection, gets checked regularly, and always puts you first; and in turn, you give him whatever he desires. Lucky for you, he has stuck to your rules and made good on his promise to be by your side when you need him. Honesty, communication, and companionship, that’s all you really need, nothing more. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

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

“James-”

Bucky spins around from the mirror he was checking his hair in and sucks in a breath. You are standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a playful smirk on your painted red lips.

“If you keep messing with your hair it’s going to fall out,” you give him a once over, “You look beautiful, darling.” And he does. He is absolutely stunning in his navy suit, a simple dark grey turtleneck underneath with a gold chain loose around his neck. It’s the one you bought him for your 6-month anniversary last month. Technically, you paid for the entire outfit he’s currently donning, but you personally picked out the chain yourself. It matches the slim bracelet that’s dangling around your wrist.

Bucky blushes lightly under your sharp gaze. He doesn’t know why, but a flutter erupts in his belly every time you compliment him. He never gets so worked up when others flatter him, only you.

“Right back at ya’ doll,” he flashes a wolfish smile, “you sure we have to go to this event? How ‘bout instead I get you out of that dress and we head to the bedroom because I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna keep my hands off you in that thing.”

Not too long ago you would have thought he was all talk, but Bucky has proven just how much he adores your body – curves and all. You can’t help but agree with his statement anyway, you look absolutely banging in your elegant Theia gown. The deep fuchsia color complements your complexion perfectly and the way it hugs your curves is like sin. The side slit stops just at mid-thigh and the off-the-shoulder straps mean your neckline is on full display. The way his eyes flash as they take it all in sends heat straight to your core, but unfortunately, you’re on a time crunch.

“As tempting as your offer is, James, I can’t miss this one. It’s a company celebration, and as the newest member of the board, it’s vital that I be there.” You gently grasp his hand and lean into the warmth of his large, muscled body, placing a modest peck on his cheek, “But since you’re going to be with me, I know the night will fly by. Before you know it, we’ll be back here and you can help me with this damn zipper.” You chuckle, winking playfully before walking away to grab your clutch resting on the table a few feet away.

Bucky’s pupils are like black saucers as he stares longingly at your ass as you bend over to slip on your shoes. As much as he wants to ignore your words and shove you up against the nearest wall and fuck you in that delectable dress, he knows that your work life is important to you, so he restrains himself – for now.

“Alright, doll.” He holds his arm out for you to take and you wrap yours around it, feeling the hard metal underneath the fabric of his suit jacket. “As long as you promise to help me out of my pants as well.”

You gasp and hit his shoulder playfully, “James!”

He shoots you a shit-eating grin and walks to the door with you hanging on his arm, your soft body melding into his.

Tonight is going to be great.

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

Tonight has been crap.

Bucky sulks at the bar, toying with a toothpick and sipping at his glass of brandy. Again, he glances over to where you stand surrounded by a group of coworkers, all of whom are men.

Shit.

He downs the remaining contents of his glass and motions to the bartender for another before going back to glaring at your little posse. He isn’t mad at you though, well, not that much. No, he’s pissed off at the slime-balls crowding you. Don’t they have their own dates to ogle at? Why did they have to steal you away as soon as you both stepped into the ballroom with the pretense of “private business matters”?

Turns out, those “private business matters” are getting you drunk and blustering about your many achievements and how lucky they are to have you on the board. Bucky knows his jealousy is misplaced. He, above everyone here, knows how hard you worked to get this position. You are the youngest person, and the only woman, to ever become a board member. He’s damn proud of you, in fact.

Still, he can tell these sleazy old men don’t give a damn about your work, not with the way they all stare at you like some kind of meal for them to devour. Bucky respects your boundaries and your work life, but how is he supposed to sit back when the tall shit-head with graying blonde hair on your right, who has easy access to getting a peep at your cleavage, keeps touching your arm? Can’t you see what they’re up to? Or are you being deliberately obtuse just to ruffle his feathers?

You wouldn’t do that though. Even if you were flirting with these geezers, which Bucky’s sure you’re not, you wouldn’t do it to get a rise out of him because you wouldn’t think it possible. You’ve never said it outright, but Bucky knows you don’t think he minds when you talk to other men. He does though, he fucking minds a lot.

How can he blame you for it, though? You made it abundantly clear at the start of your relationship that it was fine for him to see other women, even if he wasn’t the least bit interested in anyone else, not from the moment he laid eyes on you. When he tried to argue that you didn’t have anything to worry about – that he didn’t want anyone besides you – you shut him down completely, saying there was no room for argument, that he either accept the terms, or you wouldn’t be able to see him again.

Bucky wanted to strangle every selfish, fucker that made you go to such lengths to feel comfortable in a relationship. Of course, he conceded to your stipulations, there was no way around it, he needed to be with you. But, if you didn’t care if he fucked other people, how could he possibly demand that you only have eyes for him?

Still, though, it was taking all his strength to not rush forward and sweep you away from the group of lechers, and maybe kick a few of them in the nuts for good measure.

A new drink is placed before him and he knocks it back immediately. When he turns back around to continue stalking you from afar, his blood runs cold.

The other members of your group are gone and now it’s just you and blondie talking. The bastard says something and you laugh, reaching up and squeezing his arm, swaying on your feet. He places his hands on your plush hips to, supposedly, stabilize you. All the while, pulling you in much closer than necessary.

Bucky is out of his seat and at your side in a split second. He grabs the offending man’s wrists and yanks them off of you, “Watch where you’re touching, pal.” His threat comes out in a low growl and he pulls you to him, his grip tight around your waist.

“James? What are you doing here?” You hiccup, eyes hazy as they blink up at him. Your surprise at his presence sends a pang through Bucky’s heart. Had you so easily forgotten about him?

Even so, no man touches what’s his.

Bucky takes a step back, bringing you with him, and leans down to your ear, gritting his teeth together in a faux smile, “I’m here because I think it’s time we go. You’ve had too much to drink, doll,” he speaks lowly so only you can hear. He knows his words are a bit too harsh and his tone a little too strained, but he can’t shake the defensive anger coursing through his veins.

The blonde man, who for some reason is still standing there with a strangely satisfied smirk on his lips chooses that very moment to speak up, “So you’re James? Nice to meet you,” he reaches out for a handshake, seemingly unfazed by the murderous glint in Bucky’s eyes. Bucky outright ignores his proffered hand, but the finely clad man brushes off the rebuff and casually slides his hand into his pants pocket, “Y/N talks about you all the time. I can see why, you’re a nice-looking kid.”

He wants to punch the callous grin off of the old asshole’s face, but you snort, “Tod, quit it, stop teasing him.” Bucky’s jaw tightens, you didn’t say he’s not a kid. Bucky hates feeling unworthy of you; like he doesn’t belong at your side. He may be young, but he has just as much right as any to call himself yours.

Tod cracks a smile, “Ha, alright, I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N.” He nods his head at you in goodbye and moves to leave. But when he passes Bucky’s shoulder, he leans in and whispers, “Better get her home quick, son. Don’t you have a curfew to worry about?” He chuckles to himself when he catches Bucky’s seething face, not at all intimidated by the rage flaring in the younger man’s blue eyes. With those final parting words, Tod walks off, lucky to not have a bruise the size of Bucky’s left fist on his smarmy face, in Bucky’s opinion.

Bucky breathes heavily, trying not to run after the guy to show him where he can stick his fucking curfew bullshit. Instead, he switches his focus back to you. You’re leaning into him, your usually calculating eyes spacey and a goofy smile plays on your lips. He frowns, you normally don’t drink so much, “What the hell did you get yourself into, doll?” This time his voice is softer, worried, but less biting.

You glance up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, but once you understand what he’s asking, you let out an uncharacteristic giggle, “To celebrate, we did some shots, I don’t remember how many I had,” your words are slow and nonchalant, as if you are actively trying not to slur them together, “Anyway, why are you upset, darling? I thought I told you to find some guys your own age to chat with. I knew you wouldn’t be interested in all our boring old business talk.” As you talk, Bucky hurries you to the exit, only pausing at the coat check to grab your things. He messages your driver to be out front in five.

“Guys my age?” His tone is bitter but you’re oblivious to his simmering indignation.

“Yeah! It’s a party for mostly higher-ups, but a few of them brought their sons, and some brought their daughters too,” you give him a sly wink at that. Bucky just stands there in front of the decorated driveway, trying to temper the many unsavory responses he wants to make at your last remark. His arm is wrapped around your full waist, clutching you to his side. He stays silent as your car finally pulls up, the driver not bothering to hop out since Bucky already has the back door open before he even rolls to a complete stop. Bucky ushers you into the backseat before sliding in after you.

The partition is already rolled up so he turns to you, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Daughters?”

You scrunch up your face, confused by his questioning, “Yeah, I’ve met some of them. Mr. & Mrs. Willson’s daughter, Sarah, is a real looker. I think you’d like her, she’s just your type, and then there’s Melina’s daughter, Nata-”

“I don’t understand.” Bucky stares at you, trying to mask the hurt in his chest, “Were you trying to get rid of me? I came here tonight to be with you. Why would I want to spend it with some other girl? Why did you spend it with other men? Y/N, I-I don’t know what you want from me, why would you-” His tone has turned accusatory and befuddled. He wants to come clean, to shout that he doesn’t give a shit about other women, but the words are caught in his throat. He’s too much of a coward to speak them aloud.

You shush him, shaking your head, a placating smile on your red lips, “James, I don’t know why you’re getting so riled up, but stop. I just want to enjoy the rest of the car ride home with you, please, I’m tired.” You kick off your heels and relax your head against his shoulder; placing your soft hand in his. He gazes at your lovely face as you play with his metal fingers. The flashing lights that fill the car as it passes underneath brightly lit billboards and dim streetlamps cast fluttering shadows around your ethereal features. His chest fills with a sentiment he doesn’t know how to describe, one he’s maybe too scared to unpack. Your eyes drift shut and your hands still in his, as your soft snores fill the interior of the car. Bucky places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, soaking up your rich perfume.

When the car arrives back home, Bucky carries your sleeping form inside, hugging your plush body to his chest. He lays you down on the bed and goes to work getting you ready for sleep. He knows you wouldn’t want to go to sleep with makeup on, so he grabs a makeup wipe from with bathroom and removes your still pristine look. Bucky loves the power and confidence makeup gives you, but he adores your fresh face, which he doesn’t often get to see.

You tend to keep him at a distance, only letting him see parts of you, not allowing yourself to be “messy” in his presence. Again, there's that foreign panging in his heart. It feels like there is a wall between the two of you, one that you purposefully set up, Bucky’s afraid he’s never going to break it down. Even tonight, when you were fairly drunk, you held a certain air of professionalism about you, so to speak.

You always have to be in control and Bucky wishes that you would just let him be the one to shoulder the burden for once. It’s like you think he’ll abandon you if you ask him to commit more to your relationship. You just don’t know how much he craves you when you tell him he has the “weekend off”, or that he only has to come to events “if he wants to”. You may think you’re letting him have “freedom” and not feel “tied down”, but in reality, you’re denying him the time and companionship that he so desires from you. Bucky wants you to demand more of him, to expect more from him. He sure wants more of you; however he can get it.

What if all you ever want is just a good time and a good lay with a young, pretty face? A few months ago he might have been satisfied with that, but now he wants more. And he is terrified to ask for it.

He finishes cleaning your face and even has the mind to put moisturizer on you since you live and breathe the stuff. He unzips your gown and pulls it off your body. After taking a moment to appreciate the majesty of your body, he goes and hangs the dress back in the closet before coming back out with one of your pajama sets.

He removes your strapless bra and slides the soft, silk pajama top over your chest. You have shapewear on so he shimmies you out of it, which is a little challenging he’ll admit. He has no clue why you wear the restricting stuff. You say it’s to have a smooth base for your tighter garments to rest on, but he suspects there might be more to it. Either way, it’s your body and he gets to appreciate it with and without the shapewear on, so he’s plenty satisfied.

After he gets your pajama bottoms on, he quickly changes into a pair of boxers, not bothering with a shirt. He shuffles into bed beside you, pulling the covers over you both. He hugs you to his chest, trying to get the feeling of dread to leave his subconscious. You’re here in his arms, and that is enough. It has to be.

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